Tea Addiction Breeds Dangerous Crackpot (Redux)
This piece was originally posted on August 22, 2006. The stove was ultimately left behind on the trip to Ireland, but had it been taken along, it would have worked admirably!
Next month Jose and I, along with my mother, will embark on a 10-day bicycle adventure around Southeast Ireland. We have everything we could possibly need--panniers, maps, raingear, first aid kit—but what we don’t have is tea. My mother and I take our tea intravenously, and in the four years or so since Jose and I have been together, he has gradually come to satisfy his own caffeine addiction through the more genteel traditions of tea drinking. The dilemma, therefore: How to get a steaming hot mug of tea in the middle of the Wicklow Mountains? Enter the alcohol stove.
When Jose first handed me instructions on how to make your own alcohol-burning stove out of two Heineken cans and a penny, I dismissed him as a dangerous crackpot. He’s full of good intentions, but the dirty work somehow always falls to me. Yet, somewhere in my subconscious, the idea tapped away at the long-dormant engineer in me, until last weekend I found myself wielding a steak knife and hacking away at a beer can like some lunatic inventor.Within a couple of hours, and without inflicting serious injury on myself or anyone else, I was the proud owner of an alcohol penny stove.
Stepping out into the backyard, armed with a camping kettle, a can of denatured alcohol and my stove, I felt like a pioneer setting out into uncharted territory. Yes, I could have driven to REI, plunked down my credit card and bought a super-lightweight Pocket Rocket, but I am 21st Century Woman, a trailblazer following the lead of those great British explorers: Scott of the Antarctic, Sir Walter Raleigh and Mary Kingsley. I am a rebel.
Admittedly, it was with no small amount of trepidation that I poured in the fuel and struck the first match. In fact, it was with so much trepidation that I had Jose pour in the fuel and strike the first match. Even rebels and trailblazers need a sidekick; Hillary had Tenzing, Lewis had Clark. And after all, I’m a rebel, not a fool.
To my astonishment, it worked and ten minutes later, we were sitting around the dancing blue and orange flames sipping freshly made, piping hot tea. I was so impressed with myself I went on to fix the screen door that had been torn and hadn’t closed since we moved into the place two years ago. And it was with a certain sense of satisfaction that as I pulled the last corner of the replacement screen into place I, 21st Century Woman heard the vacuum cleaner whir into action inside my house, with 21st Century Man at the helm.
Want your own alcohol stove? Click here for instructions.
Thanks to Mark Jurey for his excellent directions.
Next month Jose and I, along with my mother, will embark on a 10-day bicycle adventure around Southeast Ireland. We have everything we could possibly need--panniers, maps, raingear, first aid kit—but what we don’t have is tea. My mother and I take our tea intravenously, and in the four years or so since Jose and I have been together, he has gradually come to satisfy his own caffeine addiction through the more genteel traditions of tea drinking. The dilemma, therefore: How to get a steaming hot mug of tea in the middle of the Wicklow Mountains? Enter the alcohol stove.
When Jose first handed me instructions on how to make your own alcohol-burning stove out of two Heineken cans and a penny, I dismissed him as a dangerous crackpot. He’s full of good intentions, but the dirty work somehow always falls to me. Yet, somewhere in my subconscious, the idea tapped away at the long-dormant engineer in me, until last weekend I found myself wielding a steak knife and hacking away at a beer can like some lunatic inventor.Within a couple of hours, and without inflicting serious injury on myself or anyone else, I was the proud owner of an alcohol penny stove.
Stepping out into the backyard, armed with a camping kettle, a can of denatured alcohol and my stove, I felt like a pioneer setting out into uncharted territory. Yes, I could have driven to REI, plunked down my credit card and bought a super-lightweight Pocket Rocket, but I am 21st Century Woman, a trailblazer following the lead of those great British explorers: Scott of the Antarctic, Sir Walter Raleigh and Mary Kingsley. I am a rebel.Admittedly, it was with no small amount of trepidation that I poured in the fuel and struck the first match. In fact, it was with so much trepidation that I had Jose pour in the fuel and strike the first match. Even rebels and trailblazers need a sidekick; Hillary had Tenzing, Lewis had Clark. And after all, I’m a rebel, not a fool.
To my astonishment, it worked and ten minutes later, we were sitting around the dancing blue and orange flames sipping freshly made, piping hot tea. I was so impressed with myself I went on to fix the screen door that had been torn and hadn’t closed since we moved into the place two years ago. And it was with a certain sense of satisfaction that as I pulled the last corner of the replacement screen into place I, 21st Century Woman heard the vacuum cleaner whir into action inside my house, with 21st Century Man at the helm.Want your own alcohol stove? Click here for instructions.
Thanks to Mark Jurey for his excellent directions.
posted by Lisa at 5:44 PM
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