Camp Tales
The Legend of Eddy
Lessons from a Fire Whisperer
Near a college far away, lies a mystical land of enchantment known as Weiser State Forest. It spans an astounding 30,000 acres and occupies seven counties of Pennsylvania, making it the perfect location for all sorts of outdoor activities. Amidst the vast natural expanse, there is a magical stream where I spent most of my time.
On my first visit to Weiser, I joined a group of strangers on a camping trip. We parked our car at the designated spot and embarked on the main trail into the forest. After walking down the gravel path for half a mile, we stumbled upon a dirt trail guarded by some rhododendrons.
We gazed at each other with curiosity and unanimously decided to venture down that path. Luckily, the stubborn trees granted us passage. We trudged through the mud for a quarter-mile, and the sound of a stream grew louder and louder as we approached.
Finally, we reached the bank of a mesmerizing creek, which spanned ten feet across and flowed under a wooden bridge covered in lichens. We scanned the area once more and nodded in approval. The tall pines around us were perfect for hanging our hammocks, and we quickly unpacked our gear.
We realized that the sun would soon set, so we set out to build a fire. We gathered some rocks and sticks to construct a fire ring, then cracked open some beers, and settled around the pile of wet sticks. We tried to light the fire in chaotic fashion, but our attempts were futile.
We cracked open a second round of beers and sat in silence with the dirt. Our manic grins and bloodshot eyes locked onto the pile of wood, like predators stalking their prey. Another round passed taking turns toiling away at the altar, in hopes of summoning the fire spirits.
Suddenly, a crunch in the leaves caught our attention, and an old man with a backpack appeared. Golden beams of sunlight shined on his face. The man had to walk through our site to reach the trail, and he stopped when he entered our circle of hammocks. He looked around at our hopeless group, huddled around an imaginary fire.
“I reckon you need a hand with the fire?” he said with a stolid grin that quickly turned into a smile.
Our group snapped out of our trance when we accepted the mysterious man’s offer of help. He began instructing us on the basics of fire building and showed us how to find dry wood by pushing over dead trees. He then taught us how to whittle tiny dry strips of tan shavings that roll off the ends of a stick, which we called “feather sticks.”
After some finishing touches, we built our foundation, and it was time to ignite it! Our woodland friend used a match to light a pipe before tossing the tiny flaming twig in the center of the intricately stacked structure. The fire quickly became hot enough for the first log to be laid across it, and the large bush of flames divided into several streams of flickering light licking the sides of the burning wood.
The man puffed his pipe and savored the sight of a job well done. My friends and I shot our smiles through the fire towards our very own Prometheus. Our teacher was truly a fire whisperer taught by the wizards of the wood.
When we first arrived, we were only a few lost souls naive enough to believe we could provide for ourselves. Now, we held the sacred secrets of the spark! We had no one to thank, but the hermit who had stumbled upon us in our time of need.
The sun soon set, and we shared some laughs and sighs of relief. We now had a heat source and enough light to enjoy the brisk autumn evening. We even had food to cook over our beautiful fire!
Staring into hot coals is far better than scrolling social media for hours. After downing a couple more beers, our friend got ready to leave. It was at that moment we realized we had not yet caught his name.
“The name’s Eddy,” the man said as he threw on his bag and paused for a moment.
The glow of the fire illuminated his rugged mug and fire flies danced around his head. A gust of wind blew through the trees as the smoke from the fire began to whirl around him. The ring of crickets, frogs, and coyotes in the distance grew a few decibels louder.
“Full disclosure: I do work at Chocolate World,” he shared before disappearing into the night.
We never saw this mystical creature again. A special ritual is held in Eddy’s honor on every camping trip. May he guide all those who stumble upon the spellbinding stream that slices through the moss where the fairies lay to rest.
