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From: James Lofton <n5yyx_at_etsc.net>
subject: [Paddlewise] stove report
Date: Wed, 10 Jun 1998 07:19:39 -0700
Here is a report I got yesterday from one of my paddleing buddies. With 
his permission, I'd like to share it with you. Hope you enjoy it as much 
as I did!(this is about a home built alcolhol stove)
http://www.backpacking.net/stove/stove.html
James

<report follows<

I put on the earplugs and had the fire extinguisher and firetruck
standing by as the fueling process began, knowing that a single spark
could endanger the entire neighborhood. The flameproof firesuit I had
borrowed from Red Adair's team was slightly singed and I could smell the
aroma of burnt hair from the unlucky previous user of the suit.

The alcohol was transferred smoothly from its original container to the
test stove. I trembled as I poured, knowing that it was more volatile
than nitro.

The amount of fuel in the stove had to be precise and I was in a state of
confusion as some New Mexico know it alls had recently tried to convince
me that an ounce is not always an ounce depending on which state you were
in.

I sighed a deep breath of relief as I replaced the lid on the alcohol
container, knowing that the most dangerous part was still to come........
the actual ignition of the fuel. Could the stove contain and direct the
heat as it was designed to? Months of analysis by some of the best minds
in the country were behind this design. The eggheads refused to  put
their life on the line when it was time for testing, though. Yep. It was
just me and that stove.

I had flashbacks of all the times and people in my life up to that point.
I hoped it was not a precursor that I would soon see long departed
friends in a more celestial place. My wife had checked the insurance
policies to make certain that there were no exclusions for stove testing.
I had written letters to all the close people in my life to be delivered
if the outcome of the testing went poorly.

My rapid breathing was fogging the inside of the visor. OK, Leland, this
is it. The guys are counting on you for a stove report.

My gloved hands fumbled as I started groping for a match. Was it really
worth it I kept asking myself? Everything was blurred by the condensation
on the visor. Where are matches? I can't see them. Fear was rapidly
turning into frustation. Let's get this over with I told myself. What
ever will be, will be. Don't be a wuss, just find a match and strike it!

That stupid visor I could not see through and the helmet were flung to
ther floor in a rage. I was ready to look death in the face. I could do
it. Where were the matches?

No one had put matches on the countdown checklist. There were none.

Sorry guys, tonight I will get some matches and really test that stove.

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