Fritz
Trad climber
Hagerman, ID
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Topic Author's Original Post - Feb 8, 2010 - 09:00pm PT
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Finally he said: “I’ll tell you the story, but you have to swear not to tell anyone.”
It had been a slow summer day of retail. All my customers were out having “summer fun.” Suddenly: there was hope! I recognized the customer who had just walked in.
It was 1974: my second summer running an outdoor store in Moscow Idaho.
A month before: I had made friends with three forestry students who had won a contract with the Forest Service to “thin trees”. They would work all summer 60 miles east of Moscow: cutting down numerous small trees to give the surviving ones a better chance to grow and prosper.
These gents bought good gear: North Face sleeping bags, quality accessories, and the best 3-man tent then available, the Sierra Designs 3-man. I think the 3-man retailed for $150.00: which was big money in 1974. I owned one, I believed in it, and I sold them my one in stock and immediately ordered a replacement.
On this day: one of the “tree-thinners” once more, was back in my shop. He wanted another Sierra Designs 3-man tent. I was excited and nearly giddy about selling another of my best and most favorite tent. He was reserved and grumpy.
I couldn’t help myself:
I asked him if they had more people working with them.
He said no.
I asked if they found the 3-man tent too crowded for an entire summer of sleeping together.
He said no.
There was an uncomfortable silence, while he looked around the store.
After a while, he “loosened up,” and I swore a scared oath to “keep my mouth shut."
He then told the story.
He explained it had been nearly a month of tree thinning and “Spartan living”, until they received their first paycheck. Then they visited the local town of Bovill, and stocked up on food and other supplies.
Of course they bought a little whiskey.
That night the three of them, had a party in camp. The whiskey got nipped on. They built up a big bonfire. More whiskey was “sampled.”
Sometime during the fun, one of them cracked-open a new gallon of Coleman Fuel (white gas), filled an empty can with it, and tossed the gas on the bonfire. The fire flared up, and everyone danced and laughed.
Sometime later, after a little more whiskey: one of them filled a used orange juice can with Coleman fuel, pushed the top back onto it and tossed it into the fire. They all ran back from the fire, and screamed and hooted, as the slight explosion tossed out embers and flame.
They had a little more whiskey.
At this point in the festivities: my customer took the remaining gallon of Coleman fuel, strode forward, and placed it in the middle of the bonfire.
After a slight pause, to reflect on the consequences: they all ran into the trees.
Nothing happened for a long time.
After a while, his buddies cornered my customer, and told him to run back into camp and kick the gallon can out of the fire.
He finally made the run, and as he neared the bonfire: saw that the can of fuel was glowing “cherry red.”
As he hesitated, a corner of the gallon container finally burned through.
The gallon can “took off like a rocket.” It went about 100 feet up, then turned and plunged into the Sierra Designs Tent, exploding on impact.
And that was why he was back in Moscow, buying a new tent.
I hope it is safe to tell this story now.
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Salamanizer
Trad climber
The land of Fruits & Nuts!
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Ha ha... Good Times!
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Mungeclimber
Trad climber
sorry, just posting out loud.
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heh
good euphemism for a party
'gone tree thinnin'
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Reilly
Mountain climber
Monrovia, CA
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Sounds like they was 'thinnin' up on Broketent Mt!
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guido
Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
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That whiskey is dangerous stuff-boys would have better off with some "other" means of mental distortion. Heard of placing a unopened can of beans on a hot fire, probably did it myself a couple of times. Lucky lads that it didn't go horizontal.
Roper's old man Ed, worked for Shell Development in Emeryville and would often bring large bars of Magnesium along on Pinnacles climbing trips. We had these huge tire fires and once everyone was well into the vino he would toss a bar or two into the fire. Probably not the brightest of ideas?
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Mungeclimber
Trad climber
sorry, just posting out loud.
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Guido, that's some gold story, er magnesium, right there!
where did you guys camp? was it right at the end of the road there on the east side of Pinns? I seem to remember someone saying that's where it was.
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Ricardo Cabeza
climber
All Over.
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I've had a campfire explode.
Pig Rock, outside Reno, '04.
My buddies and I went exploring up a side canyon near Pig Rock, looking for bouldering and camping. The bouldering was all choss, but the campsite in the wash was awesome.
Fast forward a couple of hours, and it's dark. The fire's been burning for a while and just starting to crank the all night kind of heat. It was early spring, so the nights still were hovering around freezing.
The three of us are sitting there, digesting food and slowly puffing away brain cells when we hear a .22 type sound from in front of us.
We freeze, the cannibus not allowing us to do otherwise.
Another explosion. This time we realize it's the fire ring at the exact moment that burning hot shrapnel comes flying toward us.
We duck. Jay and I are ok, the stone only melting holes in our super stylish synthetics.
Chris, however, was not so lucky. Chris was crouched near the tailgate of his truck when a red hot fleck of exploding river stone lodged firmly in his eye.
He winces, ducks deeper and waits it out.
His eye was messed up for the better part of a week while the burn on his cornea healed.
Lesson learned. Do not put stones from the wash into the fire ring.
Funny thing is, we all knew this, something just seems to have clouded our judgement at the time.
Next morning, packing up, my big rock scrubbing brush that was hanging off the tailgate had three marble sized pebbles melted into the bristles....
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mucci
Trad climber
The pitch of Bagalaar above you
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There were some bullits in a camp in soyo that a friend of mine got the good pleasure of setting off.
Man, a coleman bottle and fast legs has always made for a good show.
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Fritz
Trad climber
Hagerman, ID
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Topic Author's Reply - Feb 8, 2010 - 09:39pm PT
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Richardo: Growing up with campfires, I barely managed to survive exploding "cobbles."
Big chunks of quartz do explode in campfires.
We learned to avoid river-rounded chunks of "milky quartz."
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guido
Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
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Munge
Would have been the campground closes to the Monolith and all???? Those tire fires were insane. Once you got them going there was little problem with smoke and we once had one with 22 tires! Then again the "man" was pretty forgiving and no hassles with the regulations and all. After all it was a Bona Fied Sierra Club Rock Climbing Section and there were few regulations back then.
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C4/1971
Trad climber
Depends on the day...
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IN 1972 in Camp 4 there was a wake (for Andy Cox) and a nice bonfire with lots of drinks. At some point in the early morning Werner was trying to walk across the fire, easily four feet high, and probably ten feet across, with a broom balanced on his nose. It got better when the broom was on fire also. The rangers eventually asked us to put the fire out, but that was after a lot of consumption. BTW, Werner managed to do it, after several attempts!!!
Andy's parents were there with us. I don't remember if they were there for the broom tho. I might have been under the influence. Andy was a good guy, died way too young.
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Salamanizer
Trad climber
The land of Fruits & Nuts!
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My dad used to ride his motorcycle up over the Slate Range outside Trona California (near the Panaments) and into the China Lake Naval Weapons Center to collect unburned military flares.
These aren't your ordinary flares. I'm talking solid magnesium, about 6in round and three feet long suckers they launched from aircraft flares.
You'd have to be quick in and out or you'd get chased off by a blackhawk, F-16 or whatever was up in the air at the time. Don't know how they know, but as soon as you cross the boundary you got about 10min before someones on your ass.
Anyway, one day we got hold of one of those suckers, then on the way back toward Trona came across an abandoned VW bug out in the middle of the Searles Valley. Naturally we decided to dump one of those flares on the back seat just before we lit the upholstery on fire.
Gunning it toward the highway as fast as one can, in the desert, on a motorcycle, at night, we made it about a mile before that thing went off.
In a micro second the entire Searles Valley went from pitch black to brighter than the center of the sun. I mean, you could see the mountain range in full detail on both sides as clear as day. Even a mile away, the heat that thing put off felt like a nice day at the beach. It was no short burst either, that thing kept up much to our horror for a good ten minutes.
When we got back to the highway we were met by the Trona Sheriff who did not seem too amused. We decided to play it dumb and ask if he had seen that "thing" light up out in the desert. His answer to the question was, "yeah, I saw it, everyone in the entire basin saw it... and everyone also watched two motorcycles plain as day riding away from it".
Lucky for us he wasn't too interested in arresting anyone and only took our names.
The mysterious light was the talk of the town for several days afterward.
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Dr.Sprock
Boulder climber
Sprocketville
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Dang!
any more of those flares left?
a sheriff in Trona, WTF?
i saw a fat security guard with butt cleavage, but no sheriff,
he was guarding some smudge pot factory that you could smell from Mohave,
he looked like the guy at Wally World,
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Fletcher
Trad climber
The beckoning silence
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Did someone say "pyro"?????
This is one of my least proud moments with respect to the environment, but the pyro factor won out. Probably a bit o' testosterone was thrown in too. Back right after college, I worked as a unit leader for a summer camp in Wisconsin. I was essentially the counselors' counselor. One night, between the kids' sessions, me and the staff went out and got hammered at the local bar. We came back to camp and made a big bonfire. That's when I decided to see what it's like to burn a plastic milk crate. Pretty cool, the light thrown increases massively as does the heat while it lasts. So does the toxicity...
It was so cool, I did it for the kids on their last night of camp. Probably explains the dementia in some of those Gen-Xers now!
And speaking of magnesium, I used to work for NeXT computer where the housing of our computers were made of the stuff. Here is what happens when you burn one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkvQ-BJD2rU
Eric
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happiegrrrl
Trad climber
New York, NY
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Not a campfire explosion, but it's my story and I'm telling it.
I was five. Had just started kindergarten.
We lived out in the country, not on a farm, but surrounded by them. Back then, there was no sanitation truck that came by and loaded up your garbage. You took the big metal stuff to the dump or, more likely, piled it up aside the barn until eventually the mass turned a rusted russet and, covered with vines and tall grasses, became a hutch for wild rabbits and other animals.
Everything else, you burned.
Our burn pit was in the back yard. It doubled as a summer picnic bonfire pit, and yes - we did cook hot dogs and marshmallows on a stick there(with clean scrap wood, not the trash...I think. I was only five; what did I know or care?)
So, one morning, I am out playing along the fenceline, about 25 feet west of the fire pit. We had one of those 500 gallon propane tanks setting there. That was my horsey. I'd jump on his back, thread a rope through the handles used to hoist it into location; a hackamore. And off I'd gallop, back in time..... I was an indian on my mount, and the hay field next door was the plains.
That fateful day, I was getting ready to ride ole Silver, and was standing alongside him, just enjoying the country morning. Suddenly, I heard a whizzing sound and must have reflexively turned toward it. I was hit; right between the eyes. Well, dead center on the forehead actually, but still - right between the eyes.
The impact was forceful. It knocked me off my feet, into the air and onto my back. It hurt like hell almost immediately.
I'd been shot.
There had been a ketchup bottle thrown out, and the cap left on. The cannon was a Heinz 57. With cannons, accuracy is not the best, as you might know. But fate had aimed it in my direction and, I'd been taken by surprise. I didn't expect no ambush! In my world, the white man had not yet arrived! Of COURSE I would turn toward the sound in wonderment....
The heat of the smouldering fire had caused the explosion and launched the cap, which passed through Gardner's plastic bread bag on it's way to my head. The doctor thought it best to not remove the plastic, fearing it would tear away the skin and make matters worse. He felt - he didn't know, that's for sure. He'd never had a kid shot by a ketckup bottle and branded by a yellow with red polka dot bag before. He felt, he said, that the plastic would eventually dissolve. Or fade away. Or something.
So, for weeks, I had to go around with a inch in diameter bindi. I was now an Indian from India, and must have been from a lower caste, because I was definitely made fun of.
There is still a small scar on my forehead, but it's barely noticeable. But as I was growing up? It was pretty obvious for years. Probably until I was 10 or 12, people would comment almost immediately on it, asking what had happened.
edit: My story is in Wisconsin too!(as the post above). Probably late September,1967.
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Strider
Trad climber
one of god's mountain temples....
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Wow, something about Coleman Fuel Cans and campfires...
Camp 4, Site 27, June, 2004. Had a pretty good fire going, still daylight at the time but the sun is setting and we are getting dinner ready. One of my friends grabs the can of Coleman fuel and starts to slosh the fuel out of the can and onto the campfire. After about the 4th slosh the flames climb up the stream of fuel and set the top of the fuel can ablaze. My friend reacts and simply drops the can into the fire. oops =(
Now the can is lying in the fire on its side, pouring more fuel into the fire. We all stare in disbelief, wondering what the hell we are going to do. Another friend says that it's won't explode until the can is nearly empty and the vapors and oxygen mix inside to the perfect level, but we need to act fast. He grabs a stick and starts poking and flicking at the can, trying to get it out of the fire. In the process he is flicking liquid fuel that is on fire across the camp site. Someone had brought a mosquito tent, big enough for 4 to sit at a table inside comfortably but now started to slowly catch on fire from the airborne napalm and you could drive a VW through the holes. A nylon camp chair received serious 3rd burns to the seat and now acted a better toilet seat than a lounge chair. A small mushroom cloud of black smoke begins to lift from our camp site and the whole campground is beginning to take notice.
Eventually the can was extricated from the fire, dirt was tossed on top of it to extinguish its flames and the fire ring finally settled into an angry smolder. Post-op some rope and tape were applied and the crippled camp chair stayed for 2 more months before being retired. The mosquito tent wasn't so lucky...
Dinner that night was good too.
-n
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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hey there happiegirrl, say, that was some shock for a kid... say, i had heard that propane canisters can blow up...
was it empty for a long time and aired out, out there where you were? i was curious... so very glad you did not LOSE an eye... :O
*think we only burned marshemellows, a bit of fallen food... and:
chicken feathers... seems someone told us it smelled bad, so, harmless enough, i at least DID try that... :O (without the chicken attached to it)
:)
*did crackled some sap from a few misellanious branches, though...
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Tom
Big Wall climber
San Luis Obispo CA
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Coleman fuel is for old ladies.
The Real Deal is magnesium. I like to toss a few shavings into the fire to produce the Magician Effect of white-hot light rising up to the heavens.
Or, if I were a real man, I'd put an old magnesium VW engine box into a hot fire. An even harder-core testosterone display would entail lighting off a much heavier, early six-cylinder Porsche 911 crankcase.
Once the sun starts shining in the middle of the night, don't look directly at it, kids.
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mcreel
climber
Barcelona
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There's a route up at Wright's Lake in the Tahoe area called Spanish Flamethower, in honor of my wife. She was trying to coax a fire to life with a little white gas. But she caught the bottle on fire! With flame coming out the top of the bottle, she got nervous and dropped it. The fire got bigger then. Things finally settled down without injury or forest fire, and we had a name for the route of the day.
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