Building a campfire is both science and art

Last time I checked, a collared shirt and tie were not the preferable attire for building a campfire, or a blaze in a fireplace for that matter.

Yet, I found myself at a holiday party watching a dear friend load up an outdoor fire pit with wood just as guests arrived on his lanai. It was a brilliant idea to make a fire, what with the cooler evening temps Southwest Florida has seen this December.

But the tie was getting in the way and dragging through the ashes from a previous fire. And it almost became tinder along with the wadded-up News-Press he put beneath the lighter pine to get the fire going.

Let's face it: The tie was in the way of the image we have of campfire builders, too.

So as this below-average temp holiday season wanes and Southwest Florida's camping season runs from January through April, let's take time to pay tribute to campfires and our favorite fire-makers.

Every outdoorsy family has one: The one in charge of the fire.

The person who can appreciate the grain of wood; the person who packs both easy-to-burn stuff and long-lasting fuel; the person who makes that sound with an ax — the one where it hits a piece of oak that you know will burn to embers that smolder and warm you in the chill of a woodsy morning.

But if it's oak, then the ax handle may break before the oak splits. Some trees refuse to be accommodating even in death. Just throw the log in. Bigger is better, especially with campfires.

Or bring pine, too.

Florida has some of the finest pine around. What locals call lighter pine really means "easy pine." Lighter is the core of a dead tree, rich in pitchy goodness. Burns like creosote. You can light a match directly to it without any tinder or newspaper if there is a point on the edge of the log. Ah, instant warmth and light. An instant base for the next chunk of wood that will burn longer.

My friend knows all this, yet his fire was a smoke bomb.

Don't blame the tie. He overcame that obstacle, though being a woodsman and only a recent owner of an outdoor fire pit, he did admit he'd never built a fire while wearing a strangling garment that dangles.

His real problem wasn't attire after all. It was a recent torrential downpour that soaked his supply of in-town firewood. Lighter pine burns like a blazing building, but when it's drenched with a couple inches of rain, it burns like a tire.

Had he been in the woods at his hunting camp, he says he would have axed it down the middle to expose a dry spot, lighted it up and watched it burn as intended.

But when you're filling nibble bowls with nuts or arranging adult beverages at the makeshift bar, you sometimes can't find an ax. So you light the fire pit with newspaper and wet pine, knowing only the diehard outdoorsy types will stand near for a while.

Which is what I did. And even though by night's end my long hair smelled so intensely like smoke that I had to douse it within five minutes of arriving home, the pine smoke served as more than a too-strong outdoorsy perfume.

It was a party filter.

Only those who also appreciated camping and campfires came near as that wet wood sizzled. I chatted with a couple who had RV'ed it over the Thanksgiving weekend, free of video games for their boys and the fuss over cooking. They camped. They like campfires.

I chatted with another man whose sons are Boy Scouts and love that scent.

I hung with my husband, and we spoke of the new campgrounds we want to pitch our tent in during the dry season of 2009.

Oh, did I mention when we go do that, we will bring dry firewood?

— Betsy Clayton is a freelancer based on Pine Island and also is Lee County Parks & Recreation's waterways coordinator. Contact her at boatingbybetsy@ yahoo.com.