Containment

(C'mon, admit it -- when you saw the title of this post, you thought I was gonna talk about nuclear radiation. Am I right?)

I absolutely love my Zippo lighter. Its brass case, over time, has developed a wonderful patina. (No, I don't polish it.) Like old leather, it's smooth and warm in my hand. As long as I keep it fed with fluid and flints, it fires every time.

If there's a down-side to a Zippo, it's the tendency for the fluid to evaporate. That's not a big problem, practically speaking, when I'm carrying it every day, but it's downright annoying (to say the least) when I pull it out to start a backyard fire, only to get all flick and no flame.

Yesterday I employed a trick that helps prevent the vapor from escaping. I cut a 3/4-inch Ranger Band from a mountain-bike inner tube and slipped it over my Zippo, right where the case splits. It's by no means a hermetic seal, but it'll definitely extend the life of a fillup.

Even with this fix, it's always smart to top-off a Zippo before heading into the woods. Carrying a little extra fluid isn't a bad idea, either.

Now, about the tin in the background of the photo -- it's one of several that Mrs. KintlaLake and I picked up at an after-Valentine's candy blowout (75% off). The rectangular box is hinged, measuring a useful 5-1/2 inches long by 2-1/2 inches wide by 3/4 inch deep.

I suspect that it'll be "re-purposed" soon to hold a kit of some sort.

Picking up threads

It feels like a good time to re-visit some topics covered on KintlaLake Blog in recent weeks and months. In no particular order, then...

Scouting arms
I posted a pointed commentary last month about the disappearance of marksmanship from the list of essential Scouting skills. And while it may be endangered Scoutcraft, it's not yet gone.

Two long-gun merit badges remain -- Rifle Shooting and Shotgun Shooting. Earning each requires a Scout to demonstrate knowledge and proper mindset as well as skill with firearms.

Rifle Shooting gives a candidate the option of firing a .22 rifle, an air rifle or a muzzle-loader. The marksmanship standards might sound simple -- putting five three-shot groups inside an inch at 50 feet, for example -- but I'll wager that many of us gray-haired shooters can't do that reliably with open sights. Shotgun Shooting is similarly challenging.

It's also worth noting that Shooting Sports is an elective Ranger Award in the Venturing program, which succeeded Exploring in the 1990s.

There's no telling how long it'll be before runaway political correctness relegates those awards to Scouting's trash heap, but I wanted to temper my previous pessimism with some (encouraging) facts.

Urban Resources: Ranger Bands
Seldom does the sun set without another use for "Ranger Bands" popping into my head. It's a curse.

One sub-zero February evening I pulled a Mini Maglite from my TrailBlazer's console, and after just a few minutes the ice-cold aluminum had my hands aching. The next morning I cut a length of road-bike tube and slipped it over the housing -- problem solved.

I also found a neat idea (above) in a 1919 issue of Popular Science. Soon I believe I'll cannibalize a motorcycle tube and use that "cobbled" sheath on my Vaughan Sub-Zero Axe. Pictures (mine) to follow.

Sharps: Pocket sheaths
Looking at my "pocket sheath for the woods" the other day, it occurred to me to dose the hide with Montana Pitch-Blend Leather Dressing -- beeswax would help repel water, protecting the knife and (especially) the tinder in the fire kit.

The sweet-smelling paste darkened the leather slightly and gave it a nice sheen. Tested afterward, the surface beaded and shed moisture well. I treated my smaller pocket sheath, too, but with the Leather Oil -- less water-repellent than Leather Dressing (owing to the lack of beeswax), but just fine for the application.

Waste management
I hate to see food go to waste -- any food, for any reason. It's safe to say that it's one of my pet peeves. And although composting is a perfectly responsible way for us to turn truly disposable matter into fertilizer, I've been thinking about better ways to save fresh fruits and vegetables that risk spoiling before we're able to eat them.

At a local odd-lots store the other night I spied a brand-new five-tray food dehydrator. It was a convection-only model (no fan), so it wasn't ideal -- but it was "marked down" from $40 to $25. Besides, it came with a jerky kit.

So we brought it home. We'll do some drying, some vacuum-sealing and some canning and see how it goes over the next year or so. As for making jerky, I'll use the nifty convection oven that was in the kitchen when we moved into our house.

Winchester Model 67

I uncovered a relatively recent article about my old single-shot .22 -- "Winchester Model 67: A Product of Another Era," written by Gil Sengel and published in the January-February 2009 issue of Rifle Magazine. It covers the M67's history, development and variants, and I found it a fascinating read.

I'm unable to offer a hot-link to the piece, however -- it's vanished from Google Books. Go figure.

Scout at 16 weeks
The last time I wrote about our new puppy, she could sleep in a teacup with room to spare. Now she's four months old (give or take) and weighs about 25 pounds. She looks more Lab-ish every day -- otter's tail and all.

I agree with our vet that she'll top-out between 50 and 60 pounds before she's done growing. I hope she doesn't grow out of her disposition, though -- she has the most amazing personality.

Smart? You betcha. She was obeying "sit" and "stay" a long time ago. And she doesn't just "shake hands" -- last week she mastered "gimme five," "high five" and "all ten, up high."

She's definitely Daddy's Girl -- and Daddy is incurably smitten.

Saturday-morning rewind

It's quiet here in the KintlaLake household, as I'm the only one who's stirred at this hour on a Saturday. Sitting at my desk, sipping coffee from a stoneware mug, I found myself browsing Google Books -- specifically, trolling its trove of old magazines.

The first article that caught my attention today was "The Scout and His Equipment," penned for the February 1934 issue of Boys' Life by the incomparable Dan Beard.

There's nothing earth-shaking in the piece, certainly. It's basic and, from a modern perspective, undeniably quaint. To the clear-eyed reader it's also obvious that it was placed to accompany dozens of "official" product pitches from the likes of Remington, Eveready, Ulster, Marble, Buster Brown, Plumb, Johnson & Johnson and others.

Seems the "special advertising section" isn't exactly a new concept.

Beyond the commercial slant, and given my own affection for sharps, one particular line stood out to me:

"A boy without a knife is as bad as a canoe without paddles, a lumberman without an axe, or a girl without a compact."

Uncle Dan was right about that, of course. Knowing that present-day Scouts are explicitly discouraged from carrying knives, however, his words have almost a poignant ring.

Moving on to a 1950 issue of Popular Mechanics, I flipped through a primer on "Trail Knives," which prominently (and intentionally, I'd wager) featured Marble's fixed-blades and the Woodsman's Pal.

Last I landed on the June 1919 issue of Popular Science, where I found reader Rodney Bryson's advice on what to do with old inner tubes (pictured at right).

Strange -- he didn't call them "Ranger Bands."

Whenever I catch myself craving the latest and greatest something-or-other, rewinding through these old publications often reminds me that there truly is nothing new under the sun.

Urban Resources: Ranger Bands

I'll admit to being hesitant about this installment of Urban Resources. I mean, just about every outdoorsman, farmer, biker, cop and firefighter I know is familiar with Ranger Bands. I figure most KintlaLake Blog readers are, too, and the subject has been covered extensively on the Web.

Then last week I saw an online retailer selling a pack of ten for $9.95, and it occurred to me that this post might be worthwhile after all.

My Scoutmaster, while prepping a group of us for a trip to Philmont Scout Ranch, introduced me to making industrial-strength rubber bands by cutting up inner tubes. On our trek through the Sangre de Cristo range, the bands were indispensable for securing all kinds of gear.

I've been using them ever since. It wasn't until years later that I learned that they're commonly called "Ranger Bands."

Depending on the type of inner tube -- mountain bike, road bicycle, truck, tractor, motorcycle, etc. -- and the width of section cut, it's possible to make custom bands for specific tasks. Some folks use a utility knife; I prefer scissors. Either way, it's ridiculously easy.

So there's no need to spend money on pre-packaged "official" Ranger Bands. And although it may be forgivable (and less expensive) to buy new inner tubes for the purpose, that's not necessary, either.

Last evening, for example, the younger spawn needed professional help lacing a BMX wheel, so we paid a visit to a local bicycle shop. As the shop owner patiently wove spokes onto the rim, I asked him if he had any huffed tubes laying around.

"We've got tons of 'em," he said, gesturing toward a large cardboard box in the corner. "Help yourself."

I rummaged through the castoffs, picking out a couple of skinny road-bike tubes that should yield about a hundred small bands -- and they were absolutely free.

Over the years I've done the same thing at tire installers, motorcycle shops and tractor-supply stores. All I had to do was ask.

There's truly no limit to the ways that Ranger Bands can be used. In the photo, there's a band around my motorcycle's tool roll and another securing the optics wrench supplied with my new Leatherman MUT. Lengths of bicycle tube make the Bic lighters grippier. Each of the Altoids tins holds a fire kit -- Ranger Bands keep the lids shut and the rubber can come in handy as a firestarter.

The band shown on my Bravo Necker's sheath gives me a place to stow a whistle, a compass, fatwood sticks or other small items. My modified Mora 640 no longer fits securely in its plastic sheath, but adding a wide mountain-bike band fixed the retention problem.

Beyond what's pictured, I'm always using Ranger Bands around the garage -- to clamp wood or leather, to suspend brake calipers while I have the wheels off my motorcycle, and more. Also, long strips of inner tube make dandy tie-downs.

I could go on, but I won't. Use your imagination -- just don't spend any money.

Spark of inspiration

Checking out with my purchases at the drug store last week, I glanced over the selection of mints and chewing gum. Next to the regular-sized tins of Altoids was something called "Altoids smalls."

The tiny cinnamon mints appealed to me. The tiny stamped-metal package inspired me even more. Unable to resist, I bought one.

Fifty mints later, left with an empty tin measuring 2-3/8 by 1-5/8 by 5/8 inches, I set about building an ultra-compact (and yet effective) fire kit that'd nest inside.

Some of the contents were no-brainers: an eighth-inch firesteel blank two inches long; a four-inch stick of fatwood, quartered to fit; a length of jute twine; and a piece of bicycle inner tube (a.k.a. the multi-purpose "Ranger Band").

I struggled a bit with what to use to strike the little firesteel, ultimately choosing a knockoff of the Victorinox Classic, a freebie that I had hanging around. If I'd had an old LMF striker or a hacksaw blade to cut down I might've done that -- smaller, lighter and arguably stouter -- but this knife will do in a pinch.

It occurs to me that the el cheapo pocketknife can be used to shave the fatwood, too, and make small fuzz sticks. It was a tight fit for the Altoids mini-tin, so I filed-off its key-ring tab to make it a bit easier to stow.

With a firesteel and striker, jute, fatwood and yes, rubber -- that Ranger Band not only keeps the tin shut, a chunk of it also will burn for quite a while -- I've got a useful pocket-sized fire kit. It may not be ideal or perfect but it'll work, and the whole thing cost me less than a buck in real money.

That's damned near free.