Mildfires


Sitting around a campfire is a uniquely human experience, one so unique that we may have even evolved to sit around a campfire. The alluring draw is evident if you have ever been captivated by a dancing fire’s glow late at night in the Colorado mountains. There may be more at work and new information suggests a deep biological connection may be at play where we can discover more about our modern selves through our ancient past.  

Widespread mastery of fire by modern humans began around 125,000 years ago and has been a useful technology for nearly as long as modern humans have walked the earth. 

A campfire today brings people together today as it has for thousands of years. It also, in doing so, invites conversation, stories, song, dance and ceremony. 

One hypothesis as to why we have adapted alongside fire suggests that when humans were given the opportunity to converse and share information around a campfire they were more likely to thrive based on information shared among the group. Particularly plentiful gathering grounds or hazards could have been passed from one person to the next. Early humans would have also known the relative safety provided by a fire that could ward off cold and predators. 

It is right here in Colorado, near Fort Collins, where one of the most significant prehistoric campsites in all of North America was discovered. Situated on a sloping hillside overlooking the plains of northern Colorado, the Lindenmeier Site has revealed evidence of prehistoric paleoindians living around 11,000 years ago and who were among the first to settle the North American continent. 

Through stone points left behind and other evidence, archeologists have worked to reassemble a story of life on the continent that would appear far different than today except for at least one aspect. 

Sitting around a campfire with the flickering light, crackling sound and warmth strike a chord that has ensured the success of thousands of generations. 

When I worked as a backcountry guide for a therapeutic wilderness program, a student’s ability to master fire was made into a right of passage. To advance from one stage of the program to the next they would have to prove their ability to start a fire by hand or “bust a coal.” The methods used have been known for thousands of years but all of them require planning, patience, and a few choice found materials.

For students and guides, a well-assembled fire kit became a prized possession. It consisted of a fireboard and a spindle to twist against it and in some configurations a bow, string, and the hardest piece of all to find, a “top rock.”  Used together a person could generate enough friction with the pieces to create an ember worthy of igniting your carefully prepared tinder. It is physical work, a process that requires impeccable technique and could take anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours of your time. When a student persisted and started a fire for the first time, their excitement lit up and was shared by the group. 

It has been years since I have worked as a therapeutic wilderness guide but while organizing some gear during the pandemic lockdown I discovered a fireboard and some yucca spindles I had saved in a pack all these years. Starting a fire is a skill that remains important and during a time when everything seemed uncertain, it was comforting to see the pieces of my fire kit I had squirreled away for all these years. 

Since then I have rekindled an interest in the technology. I took my kids on a hike recently and while they toddled up the trail I scanned the ground for the perfect palm-size top rock to complete my bow drill. Soon, I will teach them how to start a fire, the one piece of technology that can bring people together in a way no other technology can. 

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Ecological Existentialism

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Eudoxus of New York