My First Campfire

We already had television to provide us with images of cowboys and the like perched around a campfire. Here they did their cooking, told stories, and huddled under their blankets to keep warm. All of our campfire experiences were gleaned from these television dramas. One day, I along with two friends, Michael and Drew decided o have a campout. Michael’s folks let us have use of a large field behind their house. Camping out meant we would build and maintain a campfire.
We already had plenty of experience building fires. We gathered a quantity of wood and constructed a sizeable one. We had no experience cooking, even indoors. So our meal consisted of fruits, snacks and other cold goodies. We did know about roasting marshmallows, We cut a few sticks to hold marshmallows to the fire and gobbled down a few of these toasty treats before settling in. We had maintained a sizeable fire and still had ample wood to burn through the night.and provide heat for sleeping out in the open. Taking our cue from soldiering movies we posted a guard, whose duties included tending the fire. Even in Florida it was a chilly night and we figured it a matter of survival to keep our fire going.
With the first guard posted the other two of us fell to slumber. At some time in the night I was awakened for my guard shift. I tiredly maintained a presence watching fire. By the time our next shift was due, we agreed to abandon guard duty and just put the remaining wood on the fire and sleep the night through. We all managed to get enough warmth from the final blaze that we all fell in deep sleep. At some time in the middle of the night. I was awakened by a powerful acrid smell a sense of being too warm. I found my feet had swung into the glowing embers. Likely they were cold and sought heat on their own. My wool blanket was smoldering. That was the source of the powerful smell. I got up scrapped the burnt part of my blanket away, bundled back up and went back to sleep.
Through the night, I must have alternately felt cold feet and smelt bad smells. Several times I awoke to the same scene, my feet snaked over to the barely glowing embers and my blanket again smoking. By morning my fitful night ended and I discovered the nice US Army blanket borrowed from my Uncle Bob, pretty much charred beyond use. My two campmates suffered no such loss. Apparently their sleeping bags kept their feet enclosed and warm throughout the night. I was disappointed by my first camping experience, and felt regret I ruined a fine blanket I cherished. I determined that should I try camping again, I would obtain a sleeping bag, and find a way to stay warm besides letting myself crawl into the fire.

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Awakened by the blaze

Winter in Louisiana can seem just a cold as in the deep north. Houses do not possess the same degree o tightness nor insulation. The old tenement shack we rented also had no heat source apart from an electric space heater. Our well, out front, was at the bottom of a three foot hole. Down there, our water pump was exposed to the cold, which sometimes can get frigid enough to freeze water pipes until they rupture. To prevent that we had a 150 watt light burning all the time at the bottom of the hole. It probably worked since we suffered no broken pipes all winter.
Most likely since we lived in the deep south, we also lacked most gear that folks in the north wore in winter. I noticed no scarves, long underwear, woolen hats, nor heavy coats. Sweaters, long pants and heavy socks were the most used winter clothing. Damp mornings put a chill on us that usually was burned away by the sun when it arose. Days that remained overcast never seemed to warm, yet we did not suffer bone chilling cold, just uncomfortable dampness. At night leaving the space heater on did not seem safe, so we huddled under lots of blankets and comforters. Once tucked in it did not feel cold. The only problem presented when trying to get out of bed in chilly morning.
One night, I was awakened by an uncomfortable heat. I was puzzled at first since it seemed warmer than any sultry nights of summer. Then I noticed a strange glow coning around from the far side of our house. I got up to investigate. I noticed immediately it was not only warm, but unbearably hot. Once I got to the living room, I realized the house across the street was ablaze. The fire department was just arriving, but were unable to do anything except spray water at adjacent properties to keep them from igniting. The roar of the flames was intense and the heat issuing from the fire almost made it impossible to look in that direction. By now our housemates were awake and marveling at the intense inferno across the street.
We were amazed that temperatures were high enough to cause the electric wires strung along the road separating our house from the one on fire to sag until they reached the ground. Once in contact with the ground, sparks issued and our neighborhood was plunged into darkness except for glow of the yet to diminish flames. It was probably over and hour before the roof collapsed, dragging most of the high reaching flames with it to the ground. Finally the heat began to quell. We all got back to our beds and awoke the next morning to normal damp chilliness. The house across the street was reduced to a still smoldering pile of rubble. The electric lines had raised them selves off the ground and our electricity was restored. I sensed I had dreamed about the raging fires of Hell.

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Still Burning Trash

During the oil boom of the early 1980’s, I moved to Louisiana and took advantage of the building construction surge. Several of us lived together in a rural setting outside Lafayette. This area bounds the Atchafalaya Basin which defines the western edge the Mississippi Delta. The landscape is decidedly flat and drainage ditches crisscross the area to remove rain runoff, dumping it into canals that head toward the delta swamp. The ditch next to our house looked blackened. This puzzled me. I next noticed that many stretches of ditches had similar look. It appeared that ditches caught on fire. After settling in, we discovered that garbage was not collected in this area and it was several miles to a collection point.
Convention established that trash was placed in the ditch and burned on a regular basis. Trash fires happened on a daily basis. We got used to smelling incendiary garbage. At first, we were not used to this custom and gathered our trash and hauled it away. It was burdensome and we also discovered the site where we hauled it also burned it. It just burned larger quantities. It seemed no matter what, our trash would be burned. We gave in and piled it in our ditch. About once a week we lit the pile and tended the fire. It pretty efficiently got rid of the bulk. To our advantage, we could dispose of all our work related garbage too. This added wood and other building materials to the pile.
Neighbors did not seem to mind the smells created. Everyone seemed used to breathing the fumes from all the various materials being turned to smoke and ash. Later on we discovered another local solution to solid waste management. When a rain occurred, the ditches would be swept clean of all remnants of fire. Whatever had not been lifted away as smoke or fly ash was washed down to join the murk in the Mississippi Basin. Our collective sensibilities about despoiling nature collided with local custom. More deep seated than our philosophy was the reality of living in a area that for years had collected the sediment of anything poured into the vast Mid American drainage stream.
When the scope of that system was considered, the small amount that we added seemed insignificant. We lived near the edge of a catch basin that gathered water from a wide ranging area. Rivers that flowed into the Mississippi sprang from places as far as Colorado, Montana, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, and traversed all the states in between. What ever was washed into the streams along the way, settled in our neighborhood. All along the coast and out in the swamp platforms were drilling deep into the earth to remove sedimentary ooze that had no doubt gathered and settled eons ago. Today’s workers were just as happy adding to that sedimentary collection that may provide future fuel. It appeared the mindset of this area condoned open burning. This area also is home base to the vast worldwide oil exploration empire, which make allowances for bringing fossil fuels from the bowels of the earth and burning them on the surface.
We did not stay long in this area. The boom tapered off and eventually our crew headed back to other parts of the country. I became more sensitive to the effects of burning. To help my process of coming to terms with the element of fire, I approached the native outlook of taking responsibilities for our actions and acknowledging our connection with our mother--the earth. To help ease the feelings of the harsh reality of how out of balance we were becoming with Mother Nature, I for a time turned to another type of fire that seemed to assuage these feelings. I began to consume large amounts of firewater.

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Burning Trash

When I was in first grade, we lived in rural Florida. My first job was to clean my dad’s shop after the workers left. He built wooden boats and in a day turned out a considerable quantity of sawdust, wood scraps, paper waste, packaging materials and a small quantity of chemicals from the paint shop. My duties began with sweeping up the floors and cleaning out the sawdust hampers. We had a wheelbarrow which I would load up and haul to a burning pit we had just outside the chain link fence near the back gate. My last duty before locking the gate was to build and tend a fire that consumed our waste. Everything was burned.
First off, I stacked and arranged the pile. This experience taught me much about combustion principles. First, to have sustained fire air has to get to it. Sawdust even though it is combustible can smother a fire by preventing air from reaching the burn. I learned this when I dumped a whole load on a fire already burning well. Once smothered it would continue to smoke but all flames would extinguish. If I poked it, brief flame would appear but quickly go out after I withdrew the poker. If I left the fire, by morning an intact pile of charred sawdust would still be smoldering.. But by then all chance of flame would be gone since heat had left. On the other hand if a handful of sawdust is thrown into the air above a roaring blaze it almost explodes in flame. Plenty of air among the dust particles makes for an volatile mixture.
Next, I learned that some things may not have been meant to be burned. Once in a while a small amount I put it the fire would release a cloud of noxious smoke. Mostly, it was thick black smoke that concerned me. Although she never complained a neighbor whose house was directly behind the shop would often be subjected to dense smelly vapors rolling across her property. I must have intuited that this was not good. Close by, I could tell by the stinging in my nose that what was being produced should not be shared, besides not likely being good for me.
I learned that with a hot fire small quantities could be rapidly burned without producing toxic clouds. But mostly, I gathered some elements were not meant for my fire and would be saved for hauling to a burial dump.
Lastly, I learned that some stuff doe not burn up even in a hot fire. Even small pieces of metal would not be consumed, ceramic and glass likewise. Sometimes these items would melt and change shape but never be burned up. They also glowed when subjected to high heat for a spell. I felt fortunate to be able to conduct fire experiments as part of my tasks. I took to making hot spots in the fire. In these places I conducted tests with most items that did not burn. I learned that such objects retained heat long after being removed from the furnace, often times hot enough to cause burns or ignite fires. I suppose these experiments taught me much about fire safety.
Not only was I lucky to have a chance to play with fire, I learned the joys of just watching a it burn and letting my mind drift to the accompaniment of the moving light show. We did not have a television back then, but I do not think I missed much. I learned that there is always a good show to be had just watching flames perform their magic.

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Another Kind of Steam

Water that turns into steam when its temperature reaches the boiling point provides an analogy for other states of volatility. Apparently, human behavior has mimicked steam often enough that various phrases describing human behaviors have been introduced into English language. Examples are “I’m steamed up; I’m going to let off some steam; I’m just going to simmer; I‘ve reached my boiling point; or I‘m boiling over.” These are but a few that refer to human emotions, often anger, reaching an explosive state. This brief article will try to draw comparisons of the physical characteristics of steam to the less well known mechanisms that push human behavior.
I will give conjecture and a brief example from my experience in an attempt to analyze times when humans lose control and explode. One of the points that give rise to danger when dealing with steam is when there exists no pressure relief valve or when it malfunctions. . A similar danger may exist when humans try to bottle up and contain emotions that may produce pressure when not vented.
Just as steam relief valves vent extra pressure, humans have developed means to “let off steam. Two that come to mind are focused physical exertion to bleed off bottled up energy or calmness exercises that are designed to turn down the internal heat that builds stress. When these exercises are not in place or somehow not working, the danger of a human explosion comes to bear.
Like steam pipes that have gauges reading pressure and providing alerts that should be heeded, humans would do well to monitor their state in order to intervene upon an approaching angry outburst. Unfortunately human gauges are not as easy to read as mechanical ones. But usually with practice and helpful feedback, it may be possible to detect impending problems based upon precursor events unfolding. Of course, this assumes that a person is looking to curb violent outbursts. If they are not, it may pay those nearby to attend to reading the signs of looming pressure buildup so they may take appropriate evasive maneuvers. I hope that if I was near a pressure cooker that was showing sign s of going off, I could prepare an exit.
On incident that comes to mind, when I took this action occurred during a bout of cabin fever while living in rural Arkansas. I was not aware that being cooped up all winter can place inevitable pressure on human relations. I, Willow and her two kids had spent the whole winter cooped up with no electricity, no indoor plumbing, nor running water, and our only source of heat was a wood cook stove. There was certain romantic charm spending a winter in this gorgeous natural setting. However, probably neither of us regularly had pressure outlets, nor were we familiar with detecting coming flare-ups. One morning the pressure erupted.
My custom was to rise early, make a fire, and prepare a pot of coffee. Usually, I would sit enjoying my coffee, while waiting for Willow to arise and have breakfast and launch the kids off to school. One morning, Willow awoke in an agitated state. A heated discussion ensued. I remained in my chair holding my cup. At some point Willow placed her hand on my shoulder and started shaking it to make a point. She was unaware that her jerking my shoulder was spilling hot coffee on my wrist. I was suffering burns. When I exploded, I flicked the remainder of my cup up at her. It covered the front of her blouse. Fortunately she was not burned, but her pressure also reached explosive state.
Willow went over to the stove, picked up the whole pot of coffee and headed back to my chair. I saw her coming and detected a fit of anger in her stance. I sensed danger and automatically rose up and knocked the pot out of her hands and onto the floor. I rushed to her side and grabbed her in a bear hug, lifted her off the floor and carried her outside. There I remained in an embrace afraid if I let her go , we may start swinging at each other. In a few moments, pressure seemed eased, and I asked,, “If I let you go, can I go inside and get a few things, so I can get away for a day or so?” She agreed. Hastily, I gathered a small pack and walked down the road. Besides the small burns on my wrist, injury had been avoided. We both learned the necessity of not letting pressures build to unsafe levels. To this day, memory of that event provides me with an example of what may occur should I not attend to my pressure gauges.

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The Nature of Steam

Under normal atmospheric conditions water is liquid. When temperatures fall to 32 Fahrenheit (F) under normal pressure, water turns to ice -- a solid. Under the same pressure conditions when temperature reaches 212 F, it turns to steam -- a gas. This temperature is referred to as the boiling point. Liquid water on the earth’s surface cannot exist above this temperature. In its gaseous state, steam can continue to absorb more heat. This gives steam properties that can be useful, it also renders steam a danger.
Because of its heat carrying capabilities, steam is used for heating purposes. Under confinement, as steam is heated above its boiling point, its pressure increases. Therefore, steam carrying pipes and radiators must be able to hold great pressures. Whenever these systems fail, disaster looms, usually in the form of an explosion. Because of this danger, steam heating has largely been replaced by hot water and heated air heating systems. Steam is by far the most efficient, but its risk seems not acceptable. Steam under pressure also has another use, as it has an incredible ability to penetrate porous material.
Pressure cookers are an example of steam being used in this manner. Under pressure steam penetrates deep into food, carrying its heat and cooking quickly and efficiently. A safety feature of pressure cookers are built in pressure relief valves. These release excess steam pressure from confinement and into the air. Despite warnings to keep this valve clear, dangerous explosions have occurred when it gets blocked. Kitchens have seen metal cookers turned in shrapnel that has killed the cook. For this reason, many have abandoned pressure cooking using steam pressure.
Another use of steam’s penetrating abilities are found when working with fibrous materials. Wood for example is subjected to steam to help it absorb moisture making it more pliable. Various wooden products use steam to make them bendable. After being held in a bended state and dried, wood retains the bent shape. Common examples of this are found in boats, furniture and curved building frame construction. Another fibrous material commonly subjected to steam is cloth. Steam ironing is the example. Here, again, steam brings moisture deep into the fibers rendering them pliable. Pressure from the iron flattens the fibers and cloth and when dried they retain their flattened shape.
In nature, steam exists under tremendous pressure deep in the bowels of the earth. Water meeting earth’s molten core, renders it into steam. Because it is deep in the earth this steam is held under incredible pressure as it absorbs more and more heat. These steam pockets are called superheated. In some places, Iceland for example, these deep steam pockets naturally vent near the surface. This occurrence is used for heating purposes and gives an inexpensive source of energy. In other places where natural vents do not occur near the surface, pipes are drilled down to steam pockets. These deep troves of steam come to the surface and its pressure used to drive electricity generating turbines. As its pressure and heat is dissipated this steam returns to its liquid state and often is used for irrigation. For this reason, many steam exploratory projects are sited in arid locals.
Whether natural or man made, fires are constantly tended to produce this cycle of water being taken from its liquid state to gaseous and back to liquid. Water is not the only liquid that is brought to its boiling point turned into a gas and its properties changed before it is condensed back into its liquid form. Most liquids have a volatile gaseous state and heat properties are a constant part of this equation. Therefore fires of some sort are integral to our physical nature.

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The Steam Box

Outside the chain-link fence behind my dad’s boat shop was a fire pit. Suspended across the pit was an eight inch diameter cast iron pipe several feet long. One end rested on the bottom of the pit. The pipe tilted up and its other end supported by a metal frame. The upper end protruded through a hole cut in the chain link fence and ended as it entered a long wooden box that was perhaps 10 inches high, several feet wide and at least twenty feet long. The far end of the box was covered by a canvas flap. The pipe was filed with water. When a fire was sustained beneath it the water would turn to steam and travel upward to enter the steam box. The canvas flap contained the steam so that it would not escape and when it condensed back to water would flow back into the pipe to be converted to steam again.
This steam box had an integral part in the process of building wooden boats. Several lengths of wood, usually oak or mahogany, that were pre-shaped into their finished profiles would be placed into the box and subjected to steam for several hours. Wood that has high water content is pliable. After being in steam for a while, the wooden parts would be flexible enough to be bent around a frame to produce gunwales, chines, or bow stems. However, determining the correct moisture content was not exact and resulted in mishaps.
While waiting for the wood to steam, shop workers would stay busy with other boatbuilding tasks. These included milling lumber, gluing up sub assemblies, or preparing previously finished hulls for the paint shop. Every so often one of the workers would go over to the steam box, lift the canvas flap, peer inside, then shake his head and walk back into the shop. Eventually, a worker after peering inside the box would don a leather glove, reach in, retrieve one of the pieces and carry it into the shop. Bending it around and fastening it to the frame took all the available workers.
Besides working handling steamy hot material, it had to be formed into its structural shape before it was secured. First one end was fastened into place with wood screws, Next, all available hands bent and twisted and applied clamps to hold the cooling piece of timber into position before it was permanently fixed into place. Sometimes before this task was accomplished a loud cracking sound would reveal that this piece had not been thoroughly steamed. The result would be a splintered half fastened piece of useless product. This event was usually accompanied by curses, mutterings and clanging noises from clamps hitting the floor as they were thrown off the piece of lumber that no longer held its place.
Fortunately more material had in the meantime been cooking. So, likely the next piece withdrawn would have a better chance of being bent without problem. Usually after cleaning up the mess from the broken piece and before drawing out the next one, a break was called and good mood restored. Happy attitude seems important when handling wood withdrawn from a steam box.

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Our Florida Fireplace

When I was six years old we moved from Michigan to Florida. In the house my parents built was a fireplace; but, I do not remember it being significantly used as a source of heat. Only on the rarest of mornings would my dad put some scrap wood into the fireplace and take the chill out of the air. There were three of us kids at that time, myself, a brother and sister. After we stumbled out of bed, we would crowd in front of the fireplace screen to help transition from our warm beds to the chilly Florida morning.
There was not room for all three of us to be positioned to receive heat being radiated from the fire. Since it was usually too hot to stand still in front of the fire long, all three of us twisted and turned to spread and share the heat. We seemed to be performing this un-choreographed dance as we took turns being the one directly in front of the fire. It would not take very long to warm up one side and then turn around and get the other side cooked. Then the next kid in line would bump into position to take a turn at stealing the warmth. Just about as soon as we were sufficiently warm our dad would notice us absorbing all the heat.
With his stern voice we would chase us away from standing half dressed in front of the fire. He would order us to get on our clothes and get ready to go outside. We were reluctant to readily leave the warmth to return to our seemingly frigid rooms and scramble to retrieve room temperature clothing and struggle into it. It felt like by the time we finally got dressed all the heat we had captured would be evaporated and returning to the fireplace would not provide warmth next to our skin. Fireplaces seemed useless to clothed kids. But my dad’s cajoling worked since we did get dressed and move away from the fireplace.
Before the next heating season, the fireplace was supplemented by a kerosene stove at the end of the hallway that provided heat to the bedrooms. The fireplace fell into disuse and was only used to provide atmosphere, which was rarely called for. For a time, we kids, out of habit, would crowd around the heater like it was the fireplace. It was not the same. A kerosene stove does not radiate heat out, but rather heats the air which is fan feed into the house. It did not seem efficient to us. So before long, we abandoned our habit of crowding around the heat source in the morning and just routinely got dressed in the coldness of our bedrooms. I much preferred the flare of an open fire.

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Lighting Matches

I cannot remember the first time I lit a match. It may have been under my Dad’s tutelage. Or he may have offered help and instruction after catching me trying to strike matches on my own. I did have plenty of examples of adults lighting them and may have lifted a few and went off on my own to experiment. Many times I was joined by young companions who were also interested in finding out about matches and fire. There was certainly ample opportunity to obtain a pack and go somewhere to try this test of ordinary magic.
Whatever the circumstances, several properties of matches sprang to the forefront while learning to light them. First, considerable attention had to be given to the amount of pressure applied to the match head as it was dragged down the length of the abrasive striking surface. Insufficient pressure would not allow enough friction heat to be generated to spark the combustion of the sulfurous substance on the match head. Too much pressure might break the body of the match. This would result in a flaming match fragment launching into an uncontrolled spin. When it landed it could easily leave an unwanted burn mark. Or worse it could land in a pile of tinder and ignite a fire in an undesirable place.
Matches came in two styles. One had a shaft made of a small sliver of wood. The other had a shaft made from paper. Wooden matches came in a small box that made a nice container for small items once the matches were used. Paper matches came joined together in two segments that were attached by a small metal staple. Each segment held about ten matches that were separate from each other except at the stapled end where the cuts that separated them did not penetrate. When you needed a match, you pinched it between two fingers and with a sideways pulling motion pulled it apart from the rest of the book held tightly with the other hand.
Paper matches required much more manual dexterity than wooden matches. It took great skill to separate the match from its book without tearing the book apart or separating it from its cover. Without careful attention, separating a match from its pack could result in three detached pieces; the match you separated, other matches still joined by a staple, and the cover with the abrasive striking surface. Once successful at separating a match from its cover, the next part requiring digital acuity involved striking the match. Missteps here could result either in failure to light the match or sometimes burned fingers.

Unlike wooden matches, paper ones did not have a rigid shaft. When striking a wooden match it was possible to hold it with your fingers at the far end of the match head which would burst into flame when struck. Perhaps that was why boxes of wooden matches were often labeled “Safety Matches.” On the other hand paper matches required the placing of one finger directly on or at least very near the head when striking it. Otherwise not enough pressure could be applied to the head to generate the friction necessary to cause combustion. Because of this necessity to place at least one finger near the combusting surface, it required certain quickness in order to remove the finger at the slightest indication that combustion was initiated. Removing it too soon meant that the match did not light; removing it too late often resulted in a burn. Sometimes a small piece of molten sulfur would stick to the finger resulting in a small but serious burn. I do not remember paper matches being labeled “Not Safety Matches,” but, they certainly were not safe.

At first it seemed most of us kids would remove our fingers too soon, resulting in repeated strikes in an attempt to light the match. Sometimes repeated striking resulted in the gradual removing of the sulfurous material rendering the match useless. Often an unlit paper stick would be discarded because it was no longer workable. Many times we would even run out of matches because we could not get the proper striking technique before expending our supply. Most often one good sulfur burn would considerably lighten the touch. For this reason it seemed we preferred wooden matches. If I had my way, they would have been labeled “Kid’s Matches.”

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Matches vs. Lighters

In my Dad’s shop was a small oak barrel that contained a dried mass of tobacco mixture he made. He would carve out a small plug and carry it with him in a leather pouch. Occasionally, he would shave off a few pieces with his knife. They looked like dark wood flakes and he place them in his pipe. Next he would reach into his trousers and pull out a tiny box that held little sticks, slightly fatter than toothpicks and covered with a small droplet of dried reddish substance at one end. He would rub this end along the side of the box until it burst into flame. With two fingers he held this flaming rod up to his pipe and would inhale and draw fire down into the tobacco until it ignited. Once lit it would continue to burn, until he finished smoking and put it aside where the fire in the pipe would extinguish.
Uncle Ray, who smoked cigarettes, would light them with the shiny polished metal device that he called a lighter. Smaller than a pack of cigarettes, and with a similar shape, it had a hinge on one of its narrow sides. When he wanted to use it, he would flip the top open with a smart flick of his thumb. In the same motion he would rub his thumb along a small wheel, which twirled against a piece of flint. This would produce a spark that ignited a wick that was soaked with lighter fluid. After lighting his cigarette, he deftly closed the lighter and returned it to his pocket with the same hand that seemed to reverse the motion that produced it. Uncle Ray made the whole event of producing a flame and returning the lighter to his pocket, seem like an act of magic. Unless one was aware of the existence of the small case of metal, it appeared that flame sprang from his fingertips.
Seeing the almost magical way that Uncle Ray lit his cigarettes I asked my dad why he preferred matches. He told me that while serving in the US Navy in the Pacific theater during WWII, all the crew on his boat were issued gleaming new Zippo lighters. He stated that like most of his mates he could not wait to use it. After he obtained sufficient fuel all he had to do was wait until the smoking lamp was lit. This was a signal that it was clear to go out on deck and light up. It was against regulations and unsafe to have an open flame or anything that could cause a spark below decks. It was also not safe in a war zone to carry lights even as small as a cigarette or pipe after dark on deck. Dad told me that the first time he used his new lighter he promptly blew out the flame and like a spent match he tossed the used lighter overboard. I am not sure if this story was true, but might have been the excuse he used to not use a lighter. He did not like the smell of any oil or gas type fuels burning and referred to engine powered boats as stinkpots. Through out his life he continued to use matches to light not only his pipe or cigars, but he used them to ignite any type of flame, burner or fire.

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