No matter what they say, when the temperature is down around the area where Mobil Freezone turns into an ice-cube, there is nothing like a wood burning stove. You can keep all those modern heating systems where you turn a dial and warm air shoots out through a vent; those systems that keep the temperature at an even 68 degrees throughout the day.
No thanks.
If you want real warmth, you need a wood-burning stove. You need to torch some of nature’s finest deciduous timber. Just as an aside, is it any wonder that hickory, the best wood to burn in a stove because it is the densest, is the wood out of which the shafts for Bobby Jones’ golf clubs were made when he won the Grand Slam? I think not.
The good news is that building and regulating a fire in a wood-burning stove is no more difficult than operating a nuclear reactor without the benefit of the sophisticated gauges and dials. So, as a service to friends and family, and particularly to Ruth who inhabits the cabin next to ours and complains constantly about a recalcitrant wood-burning stove, I thought that I would share with you, based upon my experiences north of the 46th parallel, the secrets to operating a wood-burning stove.
Basically you need five things, presented below in chronological order:
[raw]- Newspaper
- Kindling
- Matches
- Logs (18 inches long)
- A Fire-Extinguisher
- Aloe lotion, and
- Band-aids
Now you are ready to build a fire the intensity of which will make the solid rocket fuel boosters on the Shuttle look like a malfunctioning hot-plate. It will send the overdressed running out the front door of any cabin, stripping down to their long johns, and making snow angels on the front lawn.
Personally, I think that Canadian French language newspapers are better fire-starters than English language newspapers. There is a local newspaper that is particularly good as a fire starter. It’s called Le Soleil. The Sun. Is there a better name for a fire starter than that?
You crumple up the sports section of Le Soleil into a ball, lay four pieces of kindling on it in a tic tac toe pattern and light it up. Within seconds you’ve got a blaze going. You hear snaps and crackles. Do that with the Wall Street Journal and all you hear is a long Pffffffftt and nothing happens. The WSJ acts like a fire-break in a forest fire. The hot air cancels out the hot air and all you get is Pfffffftt.
A word here about kindling. There’s kindling and then there’s kindling. Gino’s mother is in charge of kindling at Baisley Lodges. She’s 73 years old and wields a hatchet like Davy Crockett. Luckily, she’s friendly. She produces the world’s best kindling. It’s worth taking a drive up here to pick up a load of kindling but make sure you phone ahead. You don’t want to surprise her when she’s holding that hatchet.
So now we’re cookin’ with Le Soleil and a few select pieces of Gino’s mother’s kindling. The kindling quickly turns into red-hot coals. You’re ready for the delicate addition of several, I think three is a good number, 18-inch logs weighing roughly two-hundred pounds each. The heavier these are, the denser they are, and the longer the fire will last. This means that you won’t have to get up in the middle of the night, traverse the cold floor in you bare feet, crumple up the style section of Le Soleil and start over.
Once you’ve got the three eighteen-inch logs sitting right on those hot coals, close the door to the wood-burning stove, sit back, and watch the blaze build. It’s a thing of beauty. Makes you wonder why Earth, Wind and Fire even bothered with Earth and Wind.
This is also a good time, while you’re relaxing in front of the fire, to squirt a generous portion of aloe lotion on those two red welts on your forearms. When you’re adding those logs to the kindling you’ve got to be careful not to brush up against the top of the firebox. That little sucker is hot! Those welts will soon blossom into blisters, despite the aloe, and it might be difficult sleeping for a few nights. Once the pain goes away, put a couple of large band-aids on the arms.
Next summer when your golfing buddies ask you about the “new tattoos” on your forearms simply tell them they are designed to help you align your putter. Knock in a few long putts and they’ll be asking you the name of your tattoo parlor.
Now, this next piece of advice is critical. Never, under any circumstances, open the door of the stove while the blaze is raging. As they say after the Southwest Airline 737 lands, the logs may have shifted during flight.
If you ignore this advice, open the door, and one of those logs has shifted, it will roll out of the stove, shoot between your legs, and head for the new carpet. There will be an immediate and almost irresistible temptation to grab the log with your bare hands. Resist this temptation. There’s not enough aloe in your medicine cabinet to cover the palms and fingers of both hands. Now is your chance, under great pressure, to try to figure out how to operate that fire-extinguisher that’s been hanging on the wall for years.
So, that’s it in a nutshell. Wood-Burning Stove 101 in your course catalogue.
I’m off to meet Ruth, Gino, and the Head Musher at the trail head as they finish their 16-mile run. I remember when running two miles was an accomplishment for the Powers Pack. Now, 15 miles is a short run. So far the team has covered about 65 miles on snow since we’ve hit the snowy north.
Later,
The One-Man Pit Crew
P.S. I think it’s about time that you all learned the secrets of feeding sled dogs. So tomorrow I might just try to convince the Head Musher to declassify a couple of pages of her notebook, the title of which is: Square Meals and Trail Treats, Gastrointestinal Considerations.