Last weekend, I went to New Hampshire to watch my husband
and eleven other men over the age of 50 compete in the Reach the Beach
Relay. The race is run in 36 legs over
200 miles, beginning at Cannon Mountain and ending on the coast at Hampton
Beach State Park. Along the way, the
course runs in or near other state parks, one of them being White Lake State Park.
Each year, one of the other wives and I set up a campsite at
White Lake State Park. We put up a tent
for the guys to rest in and cook a hot meal.
For several years, we cooked on a Coleman stove, but they really don’t
throw out a huge amount of heat, and when you are cooking for 12 hungry men, it
takes forever to heat up that quantity of food.
So, the last few years I have been cooking over an open fire. We have always started a fire anyway for the
guys to warm themselves. One never knows
what the weather will be like, and some years it has been cold enough to see
our breath.
This year the problem wasn’t cold…it was rain…lots of
rain. When we arrived at the campgrounds
on Friday afternoon, it was pouring. I
mean it was coming down in torrents. The
campsite was awash. In spite of a gravel
base, there were puddles, the picnic table was extremely wet, and a dry spot
had to somehow be created. We began by
putting up the canopy part of a screen house over the picnic table so that we
could dry off that area and have a place to work. Marsha and I were both wearing raincoats and
hats, but by the time the canopy was up, we were both soaked.
Marsha continued with the preparations at the picnic table,
while I tried to make the fire. The fire
circle, although on gravel, had some puddles in it. The matches, even though they had not been
out in the rain, were soggy from the humidity.
When I purchased the wood at the registration building, the nice park
ranger had throw in a fire starter block which seemed to be compressed
sawdust. This too was damp with
humidity. I knew every match I lit was
going to be quickly snuffed by the downpour.
Fortunately, I had tossed a very large umbrella in the car. I put this over the fire circle and crouched
underneath it assuming the fire would not flare up so quickly that the umbrella
caught on fire.
I started with a base of crumbled newspaper which rapidly
became damp from the puddles and the humid air.
We had brought a few pieces of scrap wood along. We used to bring all our own wood, including small
twigs for kindling, but it is against the law to carry logs/parts of tree
branches across state lines anymore. The
woods were too wet to be a source of kindling.
I pulled some small wood fragments from the logs I had purchase and
broke the fire starter block into pieces.
About 20 matches later, I was beginning to feel desperate. I began to recollect a short story, To Build a Fire, by Jack London, which I
read way back in high school. A man
traveling in the bitter cold of the Yukon realizes that he either has to start
a fire or die. He ends up dying. I wasn’t facing death….just 12 hungry men who
were expecting HOT goulash.
Thoughts of the Jack London story gave way to the Bible
story about Elijah and the prophets of Baal.
Elijah challenged the prophets of Baal to put a sacrifice on an altar,
but not to light the fire. Instead, they
would each pray to their god, and the god who sent fire down on the altar, would
be acknowledged as the true God. The
prophets of Baal didn’t have any luck with their god. Elijah even dumped barrel after barrel of
water on his altar, but when he called on God, there was a bolt of fire from
the heavens and the sacrifice burned and all the water was licked up by the
flames. I needed a bolt of fire!
I just kept praying and lighting more matches. Finally, a piece of the paper caught fire, it
spread to the sawdust fragments, and then to the small pieces of wood, and
finally to the soft wood I had purchased.
After that was well established, I placed some of the purchased hardwood. I picked up the umbrella and stood holding it
over the fire until I was sure it wouldn’t immediately go out. Then I quickly lowered the grate and placed
the pot of goulash sauce over the flames.
The macaroni would be added later, so that it didn’t turn to mush. Once the pot was in place, rain was not
hitting the fire directly under the pot, so that portion of the fire could be
preserved.
Dinner was about 30 minutes later than I had planned for the
first van which arrived, but the guys ate their first course of salad and
Italian bread, and then headed for the bath house to shower while the goulash
finished heating. After dinner they
huddled under the canopy, which we had extended by attaching a tarp between the
canopy frame and some nearby trees. They
said this looked like a still.
Later when the second van-load of guys arrived, we were able
to serve dinner promptly. The fire was
roaring and the rain had slowed down.
The second van of men rested for a couple of hours…some in the tent and
some in the van…before driving to catch up with the relay and run their
legs. All that was left for Marsha and me was to clean up the mess and fight off the raccoons which apparently like the
aroma of the goulash.
It wasn’t on my “bucket list,” but I can now say I have started a fire
in a puddle under an umbrella.
