I was packing for a chill spring evening counting seagulls on the reservoir, so I tossed the thing in my pack along with a couple of tea bags and a quart of water. 5:30 in the evening found me assembling the stove. I filled it from the 60 ml bottle, which just fit. A light breeze filtered through the cleft in the rocks where I stationed myself. I started two cups to boil. While the water heated, I listened for birds and counted gulls as they flew north, away from the intake. The geese were arriving now from wintering grounds in the south and they honked at every one and every thing as they established their nesting territories around the reservoir. It was a chill, breathless evening and I could hear the swish of their wings as they flew, a half mile off shore. While the geese were readily visible, I could only hear the cries of the gulls, long before I could see them. Scanning the far shore and the sky, I would suddenly discover a far-off flock of fifty little white dots sparkling like snowflakes in the sun.
They arrive in the thousands, ready to spend the night on the reservoir, out of reach of predators. We need to control the gulls, because each gull takes a crap about every twenty minutes. The effect is also like little white snowflakes, but wafting down through the drinking water. We discovered that if we keep them three miles from the intake, the bacteria levels are pretty low. At five miles, it's almost always zero.
In ten minutes I had a rolling boil and I poured the two cups into my travel mug along with a tea bag of ginger-aid, a potent ginger tea, which "aids in digestion". I love that stuff; it has quite a kick. I like to let it steep for fifteen minutes, which really brings out the flavor. I added the rest of the quart to the stove to boil. Back to bird watching, I hear "Gull One", the southernmost of two boats on the water, report over the radio that they have birds landing down by the intake. First they fire off a screamer, which puts the birds up, then a banger, which send them packing. Fired from a pistol, a screamer sounds like a cross between a sick gull and a bottle rocket. A banger is a big firecracker which is launched into the air before it explodes. From my perch, I see the puff of smoke and count to fifteen before the noise reaches me. About ten minutes later, here come the gulls, flying north to where we let them roost.
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| The stove, the pot-support, and the wind screen. |
After the stove cooled, I poured the remaining fuel back into the bottle. It had used 50 ml to boil the four cups. When I was done with my first tea, it took the remaining ten ml to reheat the second batch for another mug full. I figured, then, that fifty ml was enough for a hot drink and freeze dried dinner. The stove could also run for almost thirty minutes on a fill-up. On a camping trip, I'd double that per person per day, for a hot breakfast and hot dinner, and double it again so I could simmer stuff and have extra. So that would add up to 700 to 1400 ml for a week-long trip. Two or three liters would then be plenty for two people.
As my brain churned out these facts, my eyes were turned to the vast view of the sky and water, where a half dozen loons scattered themselves throughout the open miles. As the clouds darkened from orange to gray in the red and purple sunset, I welcomed the eerie laughing that echoed across the serene calm. It was a long winter and I was happy to see Spring again. Too dark to see the gulls anymore, I packed my stove away and headed back to the boat ramp to guide the boats back in. Wood stove crackling, propane lamp roaring, diesel generator chugging away, I realized what was missing out there: the alcohol stove made only the faintest hiss while merrily cooking away. Nothing like my old brass Svea, which roars like a jet-engine the whole time. We have one of those portable light towers and had the place lit up like Fenway to welcome the guys on the boats. After the sky is completely dark, the gulls are settled in way up north and our job is done. The boats power up onto their trailers and we haul them up and put them away for the night.
I like the stove. I think it's on the list for my next canoe trip down the Machias, and certainly my next week-long sea kayak trip along the Maine Island Trail. From what I've read, it's best at heating two or less cups at a time and takes a bit longer to heat than other fuel-types. The positive thing is that there are no moving parts or valves to break or clog, the fuel doesn't stink, it's noiseless, and it weighs very little. I might try building one a little bigger, the next size larger can. After all, this design was developed for ultra light camping, and canoe trips are anything but that. The other thing I have considered is buying a Trangia before they disappear from the market altogether. They're brass, have a regulating flap, and a screw-on lid so you can carry it full of fuel. For about twenty bucks, it could be worth it.