Large Fierce Mammal

There’s a saying I heard about 30 years ago uttered by a seasoned hunting guide who was describing the way inexperienced “woodsmen” build camp fires – “White man build big fire, sit far away. Indian build small fire, sit up close.”

He was talking about inefficient use of resources, and today I want to sing the praises of a piece of gear that is anything but an inefficient use of resources – the Kelly Kettle.

I first learned of the Kelly Kettle from an article I read in the long demised Survival Guide magazine. Impressed all to hell at what I read, I pretty much abandoned hope of getting my hands on one anytime soon because they’re made in Ireland, and that’s not on my daily route.

Coming forward though, I was delighted to learn that the original Kelly Kettle can be had in my neck of the woods, and in two sizes no less – the individual 20 oz size and the camp 50 oz size – from Lee Valley Tools, the Bayer’s Lake branch of which is a mere hour drive from where I’m sitting. Mrs. LFM and I scored ourselves the 50 oz size for $99.00 plus the damnable harmonized sales tax, and gave it its first boil a couple days ago. Following are a few pictures that illustrate that experience. One word of advice – our ancestors were used to working daily around open fires and steam. You, most likely, are not. If you buy a Kelly Kettle, read the instructions and remain clued in while using it, or a number of things will happen that make me point at you and laugh.

As usual, clicking on the pictures will enbiggen them somewhat.

Here you can see the water filled Kelly Kettle sitting next to its fire box, along with a small amount of twiggy forest debris and a little birch bark to get things going (already in the fire box - what's off to my right is part of my stash). The fuel you see here was MORE than enough to boil 50 ounces of water faster than our electric kettle could ever hope to accomplish. (Mrs. LFM photo)

Birch bark lit, the Kelly Kettle is placed on top of its energy source. (Mrs. LFM photo)

Fuel is fed down the chimney, starting with the smaller bits. The beauty of the Kelly Kettle is that anything that burns will fuel it. I used Birch bark to start and followed with dry twigs from our Maple trees, only because that's what I had readily to hand. If you have pine cones or prairie grass and cow chips, so be it! (Mrs. LFM photo)

The engine room, in all its glory. (Mrs. LFM photo)

Thay don't call these "volcano kettles" for nothing. (Mrs. LFM photo)

Mere minutes later, we have a most palpable plume of steam, and any food or beverage requiring hot water is seconds from reality. (Mrs. LFM photo)

There will be more to come as we adventure with our Kelly Kettle, but both Mrs. LFM and I feel safe in saying that this item bears the LFM stamp of approval.

In every war in every era, the lives of some have been ending violently at the same time those of others have been blossoming. Such is the way of things.

In Lunenburg, the morning of 11 September 2001 dawned foggy enough to obscure the coffee cup in front of your face. Nothing surprising for late summer in Nova Scotia, and fog be damned, I was seeing the world with a clarity that I hadn’t experienced in years.

I had clients to meet that morning, and in the afternoon, my schedule included a large block of time that my staff had orders to leave untouched on pain of death. It contained all the time I could squeeze out of my life back then for the most important meeting of my life, with the most important person in my life.

The first plane had hit the World Trade Center before I even left the office. There was no word as to the type of aircraft, nor whether it was accidental or an act of intent. I was driving to my first meeting when I learned of the second plane, and the fact that people were dying by malicious hands. I was on the way back when I learned of yet a third plane.

The road to Halifax had never seemed so long, but I savoured the exquisite anticipation as I kept to the speed limit and made my way through intermittent drizzle while I listened to news coverage that spoke of mayhem, carnage, hateful motives, zealotry, and revenge. All over the world, non-military aircraft were being ordered to ground. I wondered where things were going and what the hell was up with the handbasket, even as I nestled in the warm feeling that comes from never going anywhere at any time without first girding my loins for battle with the unknown and unexpected.

Dalhousie University, approximately 13:30 hours ADT – I took She who would become Mrs. LFM in my arms and made Love to her for the very first time.

In the blissful aftermath of a frenzy of mutual ravishment that I can only inadequately describe as Legendary, I disclosed to my Love that, on my way to her, as I listened to the news, I had a song in my head. This is it.

As an outdoorsy, self-reliant guy, I carry and use knives daily. In my personal and professional life – which being self employed tends to be the same thing most of the time – it’s a rarity for me not to find reason to use the pliers, Phillips screwdriver, and one or both blades on my Leatherman Charge XTi Multitool in any 24 hour period. If you follow us here at LFM, you’ll also know that I often equip myself with other items of cutlery whenever I believe the trip or situation warrants it, and that Mrs. LFM is cut from the same cloth, although from the end of the roll with the much finer weave.

We live in rural Nova Scotia where people don’t really bat an eye when you whip out a knife, flip open a blade to cut something, and then make it disappear again, and I know quite a few who would be surprised if I didn’t. I suppose one might attract attention if the chore was done at the local post office with a 10″ Bowie knife, but for the most part everybody hearabouts is pretty laid back. Not so for people in more urban centers, nor in many other parts of the world where a lot of government money has been expended in the raising of a generation that now believes that knives are the exclusive province of cutthroats, brigands, and rapists, and are solely to blame for pretty much everything that ails their neck of the woods. Worse yet, The US Department of Homeland security has come out with encouragement for citizens to report any “suspicious” activity that might brand their friends, neighbours, or even family members as potential “domestic terrorists”. Such suspicious behaviour can include being prepared for disasters (natural or otherwise), being self-reliant, and owning anything that could be considered a weapon or makes the observer “uncomfortable”. Interestingly, being a combat veteran can also brand one a potential domestic terrorist, but that’s a story for another day. (more…)

Yesterday, Mrs. LFM posted this announcement:

A decade ago, after many hours of in-depth, personal, soul-baring conversations, a smart, sexy, hysterically hilarious man named Randy grabbed me and kissed me, changing the course of my life forever.
Happy 10 years baby! I love you !

My Love said a mouthful there, and the day I kissed her for the first time is only one of the anniversaries we celebrate throughout the year.

Mrs. LFM and I had known each other for years before that day a decade ago yesterday, and as her words declare, before that night we had spent countless hours in conversation learning the measure of each other, and revealing things neither of us had ever revealed to anyone ever before. While there was a powerful attraction between us, neither of us had any anticipation that we would be together for a host of reasons I won’t deal with in this article, but the connection that grew gave us all the information that dating is supposed to get, only without the dating.

A lot of facts are missing here because they will cloud the point, but let me say that in the darkness of those early morning hours ten years ago she was leaving after a visit, conveyed by a family friend who was at this point warming up the car for departure. Briefly alone, speaking at the door, our eyes met meaningfully for an instant before I pushed her against the wall and kissed her with all the meaning my soul possessed at that moment. And it was a long, reciprocal moment my friends, let me tell you.

There’s a song by the Beatles that’s been playing in my head since yesterday that I’d now like to plant in yours. Dedicated to Mrs. LFM, what other title could it have?

According to Flagle’s Law of the Perversity of Inanimate Objects as quoted in The Laws of Experimental Science,

Any inanimate object may be expected at any time to behave in a manner that is entirely unexpected and totally unpredictable for reasons which are completely unknown or thoroughly obscure.

This concept has been further explored by sainted artist Al Capp in his Fearless Fosdick cartoons …

We’ve all experienced the reality of this phenomenon – mostly the perversity of inanimate objects part, not the I’ll kill a criminal for your child part – and today I’d like to provide an illustrative anecdote from my own experience. (more…)

Nature is unpredictable. All Nature’s creatures are equipped to work with that fact, and it’s why we humans created such damnable things as religion and statistics. It’s also why, without looking like it, I have a tool and first aid kit either on my person or within reach 24/7  that includes a heavy duty multi-tool, a Swiss Army Knife, a cellular phone and three alternative methods of signalling, three methods of igniting a fire, three methods of finding navigational direction, and a minimum of two flashlights, even in the day time. It’s why cops swelter in body armor while they drag three pounds of handgun and spare ammunition through every shift when there is only one item in their gear they know they will need constantly – a pen. Because bad shit happens, even when you’re savvy, experienced, and prepared. Knowledge, realistic training, and good basic equipment will often bail you out when you reach down one fateful day into that bag labelled “LUCK”, and find it’s empty.

I have a unique perspective here because I am both a wilderness skills instructor and a professional in dog behaviour rehabilitation, and therein lies the catalyst for this article. (more…)

Anything that bears this logo is certified as "intrinsically safe". You will NEVER find it stamped on an animal.

Intrinsic (adjective) – Belonging to or part of the real nature of something/somebody.

Safe (adjective) – Not likely to lead to any physical harm or danger. Not involving much or any risk; not likely to be wrong or to upset somebody.

I obtained the definitions above from the online Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary. Please note that the  definition of “safe” includes that word’s meaning as it applies to where I’m going with this article.

Now here’s a term many of you may not be familiar with – intrinsically safe. This refers to engineering and manufacturing measures employed to ensure that electrical and electronic systems can be used in the presence of explosive gas/oxygen mixtures without blowing the user to kingdom come. This is important in certain industries, such as oil and natural gas drilling and fuel refining. Whether it’s an on/off switch, an electric motor, a camera, a hand held communications device, a test instrument, or a flashlight, intrinsically safe technology ensures that no matter how tired, distracted, stupid, negligent, untrained, misinformed, delusional, or intoxicated the user, normal interaction with the device will never end badly because all the real smarts went into the item long before it got into his hands. (more…)

… Is just to love and be loved in return…
~Eden Ahbez, Nature Boy

Mr. and Mrs. LFM. As you can see, we've never been able to stand each other!

Most of my writing is motivated by spite. Something annoys me and rather than ranting someone’s ear off about it, I’ll either take it to my diary, Facebook or a blog post. I don’t often write when I’m blissfully happy… I stay in the moment and enjoy it.
Today’s post is a bit unique. I’m talking Love, with a capital LUH. (more…)

The rig in the field on an island in Kejimkujik Lake on 1 July 2011. Click the picture for a better view. (Thompson photo)

Thanks to a post on the always informative Bladeforums.com a while back, I got serious about something that’s been on my mind for a couple years now –  employing a shoulder rig to get some essential gear up off my belt, and away from interference with any outerwear I might have on.  Hiking in cold weather , or wearing a PFD while boating, can make access to belt worn tools difficult to impossible for the non-double jointed. (more…)

Click the picture to enbiggen.

“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing — absolute nothing — half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing… about in boats — or with boats. In or out of ’em, it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you’re always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you’ve done it there’s always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you’d much better not.” ~ Rat (The Wind in the Willows)

Mrs. LFM and I enjoy time spent together on and in the water, and particular by canoe. This here article connects with a song my mother told me about when I was a bairn, and that I only actually got to hear sung by anyone around 1982 when Jimmy Buffett performed it on a segment of the Second City Television (SCTV) comedy series called The Fishin’ Musician, starring the late and great John Candy as Gil Fisher, owner and operator of Scuttlebut Lodge. Word was, ol’ Gil couldn’t stand the taste of fish, but loved catchin’ ’em!

So here it is folks – Jimmy Buffett singing the classic Slow Boat to China, a song I have since learned to do a credible job of singing myself, always with Mrs. LFM in mind.