THE "OL MAN AND HIS FIRE!

Hi, I'm Scott, the other half of Catherine's "split-apart".  According to her we met at a Valentine's party in March of 1977 that was being held in that month because of a significant February snow storm in Minot, North Dakota that postponed the party until then. We somewhat disagree that this was the first meeting because I recalled being introduced to her the previous December at the military Officer's Club at the air force base where I was stationed at the time.  Anyway the results are the same....we've been together for going on 37 interesting and rather enjoyable years!

She kindly refers to me in the "blogs" as Salty.  The term could conjure up many thoughts as to where that one came; a crusty old retired military officer and commander that uses profanity more than not, a namesake because of my interest in Ernest Hemingway and his writing, my fondness for Jimmy Buffet and his maritime songs, writing, and prose, or the fact that my hair color has gone more from salt and pepper to all out salt.  I like all those reasons but suffice to know that I was born under the sign of Pisces on the Island of Alameda in the San Francisco Bay, spent not near enough hours abalone diving in the frigid Pacific waters of Northern California, and simply loved to swim and spend time at the pools and lakes around my adolescent and teen home of Napa, California.

Another activity I did when growing up was learn to build campfires in Boy Scouts, burn our trash in a big incinerator in our backyard, marvel at the fire salts that my Uncle Art would put in his fire while we visited for family get-togethers, and systematically punish the toy men I would capture when playing in the sand pile behind the work garage by placing them on the grates of the burning trash pit. (Don't judge me too harshly on that last activity. It was more a fascination with melting plastic than any deep seeded sadistic tendency!)

This brings me to the point of this blog by way of my introduction.  I love and take great pride in building the best, most perfectly symmetrical, and evenly heat producing evening fires in our portable fire pit just outside the beach-abode-on-wheels.  Catherine and I attempt to go to the beach every day when she gets home and we love to go along the beach in my 2004 Chrysler Sebring Convertible with the top down, the trunk open, and the seat belts fastened but not on for quick egress and entry when we come upon a treasure of charred yet usable fire wood.  I feel a sense of providing a dual service; recycling said fire wood into it's basic elements and cleaning up the mess left behind by beach goers that are less considerate by leaving not only their wood but usually beer bottles/cans and other items they should have taken to the trash receptacles that are abundantly available. (Yet I digress I will save my new-found interest in conservationism for another day of comment.)



The trick to any great fire is to get varying pieces of wood of different sizes and state of previous charring.  When I first learned as a Boy Scout we would "fur" a piece of wood by taking our pocket knives and make little incisions along several sides of the stick or dried sapling presenting something akin to a Christmas tree.  If one could also find small balls of fur or hair such as is available here at the beach from the bark of the palm trees, the stage is set for the perfect outdoor evening burn.  I start by placing the dry fur trees and hairy bark in the bottom of the pit covered with smaller to middle diameter pieces of wood and topped with the split pieces and partially charred ones.  Now when in the Scouts it was considered a sin to use any accelerate but I already got my Merit Badge and I will put a little BBQ starter fluid on it and use a lighter instead of getting a fire from friction wood.  I have less time now than I did when a young teenager.

The other day we had found two rather large 4-5 foot logs that I couldn't resist putting in the back seat of the convertible.  I knew after I had the perfect firing brewing I could simply lay one or both those logs across the pit and let the flames burn through the middle thereby giving me a fire lasting well into the night after putting the two halves into it....both fine objectives for a true yet controlled pyromaniac.  Well within a very short period of time the wind started pushing those central flames to both edges and dropping embers to the ground outside the pit.  That required an immediate and anxious rush to stomp out the grass burn and a decision to have a bucket of water near to put out the burns on the log edges.  The RV park owners were leaving for the night and half-jokingly called over that the fire was certainly large tonight.  We giggled back but I told Cath that the big logs were probably something we should leave on the beach!

Well, it's been nice introducing myself and giving you another insight to our journey-by-the-sea.  It's time to go outside and clean the pit for another evening of flame and fun.  Maybe I'll fire up the BBQ pit too....Er,Er,Er (in the tone of Tim Taylor, the Tool Guy).