From the beginning Beyond the Campfire has concentrated on
photography as was its intent, but I also wanted it to become a combination
outdoor adventure / photography blog.
The adventure part has become the lesser of the two and somewhat in my
defense for various reasons I just don’t get out as much as I used to.
As I have taken time away from the blogging world I’ve been
able to reflect on seasons past, friends and special moments and began to
realize that collectively I have garnered many Red-Letter days through the
years. Some years ago before I understood what blogging was all about I built
a website called ‘Oklahoma Backcountry’. It no longer exists, but I still have
copies of the adventure stories I shared through its venue.
As I thought about how to proceed with Beyond the Campfire I
realized there was a treasure trove of
red letter days many of them focused around friends some of whom are no
longer with us. I am so glad I put into writing those stories for as I re-read
through many of them I was taken back to possibly some of the best days I can
remember.
So starting this month, I will be re-sharing those old
stories along with new ones to try and balance the adventure portion of Beyond
the Campfire against the photography aspect of the blog. A spattering of
images, snap shots really, taken during those amazing days will be included.
None of them warrant any kind of quality merit, but in their own way they are
priceless keep sakes of those bygone days and serve to accent just how
important they were.
Please share with me memories from the past as I begin this
amazing discovery of renewal.
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Zippo Lighter Moments
It is a subtle noise, more of a clink and less of a clunk,
but distinctive and recognizable well beyond what its simple action might
otherwise dictate. A simple flicking of the shiny cover with an upward motion of
the thumb activates the signature sound; clink, then a pause followed by a flick-zip that generates a stream of sparks to ignite the flame whose lighter fluid aroma drifts with the wind.
I hadn’t heard the clink of a Zippo lighter for many years
until recently, and when I did I immediately knew what it was. Upon its
activation I was in a moment taken back to another time more years ago than I
care to admit to. My mind jumped from scene to scene as the ghost reels of
times past flickered across the faded screen stretched across my imagination.
Each scene played out in perfect harmony as the sound of that old Zippo lighter
stamped into existence dormant long-to-come moments waiting for a trigger to resurrect them back to life.
I can’t rightly say when I first heard a Zippo lighter sound
but I can remember clearly the cold air and pipe tobacco aroma associated with the
use of one. My old friend Ralph as he was accustomed to doing, would flick his
lighter, fire it up, and light his pipe blowing short puffs of smoke until the
bowl would glow crimson red. Then he would again clink it closed. The sweet fragrance of the pipe tobacco would
softly fill the air.
I didn’t know it at the time but those obscure moments
became set in my mind by the actions and sound of him using that old Zippo. If
I recall correctly he inherited the lighter from his dad so it already had a long
history to it and by default those moments became part of my history. He used
the pipe and the Zippo just about every place he managed to find himself, but
my memories are locked more onto the hunting and fishing adventures we shared
together. You see Ralph was somewhat, maybe even considerably older than the
rest of us, a mentor of sorts although he would never have admitted to it. In
spite of his age we the younger had a hard time keeping up with him.
It didn’t matter how cold it was, if there was a duck hunt to be had, he’d be there. Those were the most memorable Zippo moments. We would arrive at our destination and as we scurried around trying to get rigged, he would calmly repack his pipe, flick the lighter open and fire it off. I can hear it now as clearly as then…clink…zip...puff and puff, the blue smoke wafting in the winter pre-dawn air set aglow by star light. He did it so often we hardly paid attention to it…then. It was just part of what he did and we got used to it.
It didn’t matter how cold it was, if there was a duck hunt to be had, he’d be there. Those were the most memorable Zippo moments. We would arrive at our destination and as we scurried around trying to get rigged, he would calmly repack his pipe, flick the lighter open and fire it off. I can hear it now as clearly as then…clink…zip...puff and puff, the blue smoke wafting in the winter pre-dawn air set aglow by star light. He did it so often we hardly paid attention to it…then. It was just part of what he did and we got used to it.
Sharing a canoe with Ralph was a fine pleasure that all of
us relished. His pipe and Zippo lighter were always there for every fishing
trip. What greater joy could there be than to see the sky glow before daybreak,
hear the whine of fishing line as it twirled toward a rendezvous with a summer
morning bass, and hear his Zippo clink and the subtle puffing of a lit pipe.
Everything seemed to fit perfectly in sync; time, place,
emotion, and moment. Our times together in a canoe were the best of times and
when we were able to combine that pastime with a camping trip, they became the
better of times. A hypnotic campfire that spoke of times past, old adventure
stories told and retold, hilarious and near disastrous at times brought us to
joyous tears. Then without fanfare almost unheard in the background against the
clutter of the evening chatter there would come that clink…followed by the
scent of pipe tobacco.
Sometimes he would be in the middle of telling a story when
he’d light up. The clink became a pause and each pause added to the impact of
the telling part. He’d hold the pipe in one hand and wave it with some kind of
animated gesturing as he elaborated on his story. Sometimes he’d simply let the
pipe hang from one side of his jaw and then he would talk through it. His
stories would often run a long time, he could take a two minute story and turn
it into a full length adventure, and inevitably his pipe would go out…then we’d
hear another clink, another pause as he reignited the tobacco...then the story continued.
We enjoyed many rendezvous’ across years of building a
reserve of memories that served us well. As Ralph aged he approached another
rendezvous with life that collided with Multiple Myloma. In spite of his
condition he continued to fish and get out as much as he could until he could
no longer do so. His Zippo and pipe were there with him along the way, and when
he passed he left behind a legacy of living that words can never fully define.
What I understand now that I did not then, is that we need to
have those Zippo Lighter moments for no other reason than to lock into place
what it means to be a friend. Even though he was not actively trying to teach
such admirable traits, he did manage to get the point across to us without even
knowing it. Yet, Ralph was more than a friend, more than a mentor he was a
maker of timeless memories and the clink of that old lighter became the stamp
of approval that solidified the texture and flavor of those adventures.
I harbor few regrets, but when I
recently heard again the clink of a Zippo lighter, I realized that my life
since Ralph left us has exhibited far too few of those moments. I do treasure the small
number that were made and can only hope that a simple sound coming from a
classic lighter will stir within me not only more self awareness but a greater desire
to become a maker of timeless memories. And even though I do not smoke, I purchased a shiny new Zippo lighter
today. On those melancholy days when my mind is set adrift and I forget why I enjoyed going on those
adventures, I’ll flick the lid to hear that clink and use it as a reminder.
Keith
