We went tent camping as a family, for three nights. I’d not intended to make a campfire since there didn’t seem to be a compelling reason and we aim for simplicity when camping. We hadn’t had a campfire last year, and the year before that it had been a total bust with zero success getting wet firewood to burn. So I was a little surprised when my wife promoted having a late afternoon campfire on which we could also roast our sausage dinner. I guess I can root through our garbage bag to find combustibles to get the fire started and hopefully avoid a smoking failure, I thought, since I hadn’t specifically brought fire starter material. I had to go to the camp office to purchase ice anyway and we agreed that I’d pick up some firewood as well, contingent on the price. So the kids hopped aboard the wagon and off we went.
We clattered into the office and I asked the young man about firewood prices. “$10 for firewood,” he said. That’s actually better than I expected. “…and $7 for kindling,” he finished. Kindling?! I didn’t know they had that too. This may seem like a very simple choice but to me it was fraught. Maybe this is just a me thing but I believe other men can relate. Certainly there’s some pride involved (which isn’t a good thing). Here’s how the options felt to me:
1. Buy the kindling
Pros:
- Probably available because it’s hard to get the firewood lit without it and thus kindling will almost guarantee success
Cons:
- Burn 7 more dollars
- Admit that I don’t think I can get the fire started without kindling help (lose manliness points)
2. Leave the kindling
Pros:
- Accept the challenge of finding my own way to get the firewood started (gain manliness points)
Cons:
- Potentially fail to get the firewood burning and then return to the office to purchase kindling. Probably the same guy will be there. Probably I’ll have fail-fire soot on my face to mark my ineptitude at this basic survival skill. (lose manliness points big time)
“I’ll buy just the firewood,” I told the man behind the counter. “I think I’ve got enough at the site to get it started,” I said with carefree confidence I didn’t feel.
Back at the campsite I told my wife about the kindling option, and how I should be able to use our burnable garbage plus some sticks scrounged from the woods (yes, I know you’re not supposed to do that) to get the fire going. The firewood pieces were large. “You can’t just set them on fire with a match,” I said and tried to explain a little of the art of making a fire, mostly to justify myself in case of failure.
She didn’t see why I made such a big deal about it. If the fire wouldn’t start then I could just buy the kindling. Or just give up on the fire. “Is there something primal about building a fire?” she asked.
Yes! It’s man versus nature. Creating a sustained fire shows a level of mastery over nature, harnessing elemental forces for human benefit. I’m not particularly good at making fires so there’s the risk of failing at this challenge. While my wife and kids probably wouldn’t care much, I would feel like the father who couldn’t overcome nature to bring his family warmth and light (never mind the fact that we totally didn’t need the fire to survive or even for convenience).
In the end, the carefully arranged burnable trash, collected sticks, and big chunks of firewood did indeed catch fire and all burned to ash. We roasted meat above the flames and rejoiced in our triumph.