A cold east wind flew through the gorge, bending Douglas Fir trees and complicating our attempts of starting a fire.
A small flame quickly warmed my hands and illuminated my shadow on a nearby bush. After thirty minutes of breathing wood smoke, dirtying my knees and periodic, frantic searches for pieces of dry firewood, the shy flames finally lingered. Quickly, the dinner plate sized blaze developed into a self respecting campfire.
Tim's well loved, size 14 Danners warming by the fire.
Some will talk over a beer, others over a caffeinated beverage, for me I will take a fire any day. I love the smell of smoke, the labor of splitting wood, the occasional teary eyes from changing wind and the lingering flavor of fire for weeks on your jacket or sweater.
Here are some more links,
A Campfire at Sunset (Picasa).