Musings on Education

 

Fixin' tractors with firewood and milk cartons.

 

I recently acquired a used BCS two-wheeled tractor and discovered some significant mechanical gremlins that went unreported by the seller (caveat emptor, eh?). I took a stab at the job rather than paying big bucks and waiting weeks for a small engine repair shop to perform the work and I am happy to report a successful outcome. The major work included repairing the power take-off transmission to address some worn gears and a fuel system overhaul (including a carburetor rebuild) to address a fuel starvation problem. Other work included general control cable adjustment and lubrication, repair of an electrical short circuit, engine valve adjustment, and replacing spark plugs and the air filter. All told, the project was fun, vastly informative, and very attainable with the help of online tutorials and a willingness to tinker.
 

What does small equipment repair have to do with education?

I have absolutely no formal training in small engine repair. I also have no formal training in any number of trades that are commonly employed around the home such as plumbing, carpentry, wiring, and painting. Heck, let’s even throw sewing in there for good measure. A homeowner faced with a need for these skills typically has two options - learn the skills or hire them out. I, being of frugal stock, typically (but not always) chose the former. I am fortunate to have a father who showed me how to change oil as a youngster, thus imparting the first lessons of mechanical literacy. The rest has been trial and error.

Again, what does this have to do with education?

Aside from one semester each of shop and home economics in middle school, my public education was completely bereft of trades topics. The trades are almost completely absent from the American curriculum even though they are essential to our daily lives. Grade schools focus nearly exclusively on math, history, science, writing, and reading and the obvious path preferred by society is for students to graduate high school on a college track to prepare them for a white collar career. This was my path and it has suited me relatively well but I feel that I missed a whole lot. Yes, I have a broad liberal arts training and can hold conversations on diverse topics in mixed company. But I get a bit anxious when I am faced with an ostensibly simple task such as replacing a water heater. I mean hell, I cloned my own DNA in biology lab, how hard can replacing a water heater be? Umm..yeah...screw up that 240 volt wiring and you can kill yourself pretty quick. Or flood the basement if the pipes aren’t soldered correctly.

So what, hire a contractor, right? What I’m getting at the education system displays an inherent bias that “smart” kids should only pursue academics and that everyone else is predestined for the seemingly less worthy world of trade work. For a high school student with good grades to even express an interest in the trades would bring the immediate scorn of guidance counselors, teachers, and peers. And unfortunately, the kids with less than exceptional grades are made to feel like they are not as worthy and their future successes will be limited. Except, trades are no second fiddle and require as much training and intelligence as academic work plus a whole lot more common sense! Plus, the trades offer the possibility of business ownership that is often absent from the white collar world. Recognizing that tradespeople work long hours in demanding conditions, I think that there is a lot of satisfaction and pride in the problem solving and craftsmanship that accompany these lines of work. And then there is the college educated office worker who shuffles through the workday alternating between boredom, apathy, expediency, and contempt. Sure, the trades have these attitudes too, but I just don’t see as much pride and satisfaction in the white collar folks. Certainly not as much common sense.

I think there may be a sizable percentage of high school and college age students that would be much happier if they were given a chance to explore alternatives paths. Perhaps some core classes such as introduction to trades, entrepreneurialism, basic accounting, and agriculture (one can be optimistic). The school system wants to develop specialists; I say let’s develop well rounded citizens literate in academics, arts, and trades. I once heard the concept that conflict between two people or groups arises from differences in skill sets. Or to quote Mark Twain, “it ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble, it’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” Expand literacy, bridge the gap between blue and white collar workers, build an educated and capable citizenry, and rebuild this democracy.

 

Keep tinkering on those tractors!

The Wood Shuffle

The arrival of the autumn foliage means that it's time for the annual firewood shuffle. I have about four or five cords of seasoned wood that have been drying in the shelter of pine and hemlock trees on the north and northeast side of my property. I'm in the process of restacking this wood on pallets on my back patio so I'll have easy access to it through the hatchway door come winter. Last year I burned about 3 1/2 cords of wood and ran out by late March. I should have plenty on hand for this winter! 

The seasoning area beneath the trees will be occupied shortly with freshly split white oak, maple, and hickory that will constitute next season's fuel. The wood burning game means I'm always stocking (and stacking) wood for a season or two in the future. I quite pleased to note that I've scavenged all of this wood for free from family and friends who have had trees taken down for various reasons. I've yet to cut down a tree for the sake of firewood.  With all this wood, I only burned 3/4 of a tank of oil last winter.  Burning wood is a lot of work but it keeps the oil man away!

Speaking of splitting wood, I've switched over to the Fiskars X27 splitting axe. I've previously used a standard splitting maul from the hardware store. The Fiskars axe is lightweight and has a razor sharp edge to slice its way through wood rather than bludgeoning the log like a maul. I can swing this axe for hours with far less muscle soreness. The trick is to keep the edge very sharp; Fiskars offers a slick little sharpening tool. Of course, the largest logs require the traditional wedge and sledge technique to make smaller chunks that I can split with the axe. I save the gnarliest and knottiest pieces for the hydraulic woodsplitter.

Here's the equipment I'm using right now.  I use the maul to drive the wedge, but a long-handled sledgehammer is probably a better tool.  Stay safe and get yourself a pair of safety glasses and work boots, too!  The Fiskars axe is worth every penny.  I've split about 5 cords with mine and I've been very pleased.

A season's worth of heat = homeland security.

Now, allow me the opportunity to wax poetic on wood splitting for a bit. I love it. I really love splitting by hand rather than using a hydraulic splitter. Why? First and foremost, hand splitting is quiet…I can listen to the birds in between chops with the axe. Also, hand splitting is highly meditative; much like motorcycling and backcountry skiing, complete focus is needed to do the task well. Each piece of wood becomes a silent puzzle…I become the Log Whisperer and read the grain to determine which way it wants to split. I look for knots and other features that might influence the direction of the split. The swing of the axe is a calculated application of inertia and muscle. I can step back for a moment and admire the remaining color in my fall vegetable garden and watch the evening sunlight play on the pines that tower above my chopping block. A few hours of splitting settles me into a slow rhythm of physical labor that is eminently rewarding as I sweat out my frustrations and the pile of split wood grows. 

Gabby dog supervises the stacking operations with a tasty pine cone.

It ain't just choppin' wood, folks!

Chimney Sweep on the Cheap

Autumn is here, which means the first fire in the wood stove is only a few weeks away.  Although the forecast this week is for daytime temperatures in the 70s and 80s, the shortening days inevitably mean colder weather to come.  This winter will be the third season I've burned a wood stove at my home.  I decided to do a quick chimney sweep on the cheap to ensure trouble-free heating once the frost makes itself at home in central Connecticut.

Here's an easy method to sweep a stainless steel chimney using household materials and some vegetation.  You may have to modify this method to suit a masonry flue.  Disclaimer: Please hire a professional if your chimney is heavily fouled with creosote (and stop burning green wood, eh!).  Chimney fires are no joke.  This technique is for lightly to moderately fouled chimneys. And don't blame me if you fall off your roof!

Materials:

1. Rope, at least as long as your chimney plus a few extra feet
2. A branch from a tree or shrub that is big enough to scour the flue without getting stuck
3. An old tennis ball or similar sized object
4. Duct tape 
5. A buddy to call 911 if'n you do something stupid 

Step 1:  Remove the rain cap on the top of the chimney and the clean-out plug from the bottom of the chimney, if it is so equipped.  Enjoy the different perspective while standing on the roof.
 

Of course I somehow had to include the garden in this blog post!

Step 2:  Duct tape the tennis ball onto one end of the rope.  The ball acts as a weight to carry the string down the chimney.  Drop the ball and rope down the chimney (hold on the other end of the rope, duh!) and cut the rope a few feet longer.  Duct tape the branch onto the upper end of the rope.

Step 3:  Position the branch in the flue.  Have your buddy on the ground slowly pull the end of the rope with the tennis ball to draw the branch down the pipe.  A good amount of dry dust should come down with it.  Repeat the sweep a few more times.  Reassemble the chimney.

Appropriately enough, the branch I used was from a shrub called Lena's Broom.

If the branch comes out of the chimney coated with sticky tar-like substance, then you have a real creosote problem.  Creosote is formed when wood gases are not completely burned in the stove and then condense into tar on the cooler flue surfaces.  The best remedy for avoiding creosote is to burn properly seasoned hardwood instead of resinous softwoods such as pine, avoid slow smoldering fires, and use a stainless steel flue that will heat up faster than a masonry flue.

There are reasonably-priced DIY products if my dirtbag approach is not your style...

Woodheat.org has a ton of well-researched and FREE information on how to season and burn wood efficiently.  Check them out right now!  

The woodlot in all its glory.  Bonus points if you can spot the dog.

The sun sets on another suburban homestead project.

Can't wait for winter, but I love fall!

A Season of Change

It appears that five months have elapsed since my last post!  I have a great excuse for not writing.  He looks something like this...

 Yes, the Woods Hippie tribe has expanded its ranks by one.  As of this writing, the little guy is seven weeks old and has already enjoyed his first hike in the woods of Burlington, CT and has tasted some delicious squirrel stew (albeit processed into breast milk by Mama).  So, I haven't had much opportunity of late for grand outdoor adventure, but plenty of grand life adventure!  I can't really ask for much else.

Although, it would have been a blast to be able to ski on some of that freak October snow.

The venerable Coleman stove was impervious to the power outage.

As I alluded to above with the stew reference, I have been hitting the small game hunting season with some regularity, and the squirrels have made some tasty fare.  Don't knock it till you've tried it!  Squirrel really is a flavorful meat and an elusive quarry, too.  Forest greys are much more wary than your average suburban squirrel.  My setup of choice has been my Remington 870 12 gauge shotgun outfitted with a full choke, shooting no. 6 game loads.  The tight choke allows for longer shots in oaks still loaded with foliage, and I don't have to worry about the consequences of sending a .22 slug skyward in the relatively populated areas in which I hunt.  That, and the scattergun gives me options should I flush a stray pheasant or partridge.

I'll leave you with a few scenes from a Connecticut small game hunt...

Think snow.

Easy Ridin', Northeast-Stylie

Left to Right: Hippie's bike, IIA, Hippie, IIA's bike.

This past weekend, my cousin and I decided to skip out of Connecticut on the bikes and get lost in the Pennsylvania and New York countryside.  Or, as my new-found Irish relative P. K. would say, "We're gonna fuck off to PA for a bit?!"  With a half-day of work on Friday locked, loaded, and time sheet submitted by noon, I kissed the wife, dog, and son-to-be goodbye and threw a leg over the saddle and spun over to my cousin's place where we took a look at the map to confirm his route for the day.  My cousin, to whom I shall refer only as the Irish Italian American (IIA) in deference to his internet privacy, was visibly giddy at the outset of his first motorcycle camping adventure (though by no means his first motorcycle adventure).  And I, as the Self-Proclaimed Motorcycle Adventurer (SPMA), was more than eager to show him the ropes (and my stash of cool camping gear).  Also, sometimes it's healthful to sack up and drop the whole hippie thing and expand my carbon footprint every now and again.  Gas is cheaper than Zoloft, eh?

The IIA on the shore of the Delaware River.

Well, I should back up a minute here and explain things.  I felt as if I owed the IIA an adventure of some sort as a result of his ill-fated experience with the glorious backcountry cabin ski trip which I gushed over here and here.  Those dedicated readers of this blog may have noticed that the IIA was not mentioned in that trip report, but alas, he played a brief, albeit spectacular, role in that trip.  The IIA joined his brother Johnny G and I on the first day of the trip with every intention of enjoying a weekend of snowboarding and backcountry shenanigans but, to his chagrin, he fell victim to an unfortunate case of food poisoning at the hands of a D'Angelo's grinder in West Lebanon, NH on the ride north.  Halfway up the trail to the cabin, the tainted bacon or chicken or whatever gained the upper hand in the gastrointestinal battle for digestive dominance and the rest was in the history books.  Johnny G. and I escorted him to the base lodge, booked him a hotel room for the night, and left him to dance the porcelain two-step as we reascended the mountain to keep our date with a cabin in the woods.  So, in the end, I did feel bad for abandoning him in his hour of need, but every skier knows and accepts the one hard and fast rule of the slopes - there are no friends on a powder day...

50 mpg and cooler than your Prius.

So, after stashing the last of the gear on the bikes, we roared off towards the New York line in a fury of partially-burnt hydrocarbons and hot rubber.  Well, perhaps the IIA's bike roared westward whereas my steed probably purred along with mild flatulence...while we both rock V-twin engines, his has a few more cubic inches and a hell of a lot less muffler than mine!  The whole MoCo vs. Japan thing...such distinctions are pretty worthless once you get on the road.  In my book, it doesn't matter what you ride as long as you ride.  At any rate, the IIA's bike is the type that provokes either love or hate in the ears of the pedestrian subjected to the raw explosions of the straight-piped Twin Cam 88 engine as it passes through some quiet hillcountry town.  On the one hand, the midnight purple Softail Night Train inspires moist panties and envious looks from, respectively, twenty-something females in tight blue-jeans and pussy-whipped males driving automatic transmission Toyota Corolla sedans with tan interiors.  (alright Dad, that's not too "Thoreau" for you, is it?)  On the other hand, the bike probably has the capability of drawing the ire of anyone who works third shift and sleeps in the daytime.  At any rate, I think his bike is straight up rad (yup, child of the 90's here), and, having had the opportunity to swap bikes and ride it, I can totally appreciate the whole Harley-Davidson thing.

Diners, bikes, and Jeeps.   This is America, bitches!

Alright, so back to the ride.  Throwing myself to the whims of the weekend, I totally entrusted the first day's route finding to the IIA, which, according to his father (my uncle), was akin to handing him the keys to my as-of-yet unborn first child.  I could not have been more pleasantly surprised, as his route brought us through pastoral New York farm country and a magnificent traverse of the Shawangunk mountain range outside of New Paltz, complete with conglomerate/sandstone cliffs, 180-degree hairpin turns, and mountain laurel in full bloom.  Breathtaking, I assure you, especially atop a motorcycle.  Port Jervis, NY served us our first taste of adventure as a cloudburst tested our riding mettle mere minutes after we donned our raingear in response to a light shower.  We kept on trucking despite fogging helmet visors and were rewarded with spectacular scenery along the raging Delaware River and some technical (if not gravel-strewn) riding once across the PA border.  As the day grew long in tooth and our odometers climbed towards 200 miles on the day, we pulled into a dive bar in Hawley, PA for a well-deserved burger and pint (just one, Mom, don't fret) of Juengling.  And, much to our delight, the bar also sold 12 packs of High Life to-go, so we were able to fulfill our needs for dinner and camp beer rations in one convenient stop.  Thank you, Pennsylvania!  The last half-hour of the day found us winding around the shores of Lake Wallenpaupack, PA's largest man-made lake, in search of a campground, which we discovered at the motorcycle-friendly Ironwood Point Recreation Area.  A modest expenditure of twenty-five dollars bought us a chill campsite and ample firewood for the night.

'Nuff said.  Either you're on the bus, or you're off.

We slept well, which I find is always a boon on the first night of a camping trip when the body is not really accustomed to outdoor life.  Awaking on the late side of 8 AM, we jumped into the welcoming waters of Lake Wallenpaupack before striking camp and aiming the bikes toward the nearest greasy spoon for corned beef hash and pancakes.  After the obligatory and much welcomed deuce, we struck out toward the Catskills on the most obscure and winding back roads that we could find on our maps.  We had three sets of maps - my Rand McNally set and the IIA's H-D guide and an anonymous atlas page for NY state.  The funny thing was that these maps could not agree on what roads existed in this part of the United States.  Here we were, no more than 50 miles from NYC, one of the largest cities in the world, and we were left to navigate by dead reckoning, the positioning of celestial bodies, and a wet thumb stuck into the breeze.  

Once again, take that, Utah!  Although, this looks pretty steazy, too.

Okay, so I may be prone to hyperbole, but we were in the country for sure, which I fully enjoyed.  The IIA later commented that there were no chain restaurants to be seen for almost two full days.  Windy side roads brought us to the gateway of the Catskills in Liberty, NY where we faced our only stretch of interstate riding in no less than a veritable downpour.  The remainder of Day Two was destiny unbound motorcycle heaven - 60 mph sweepers alongside a mountain reservoir with views of high peaks and tumbling mountain streams to either side of the handlebars.  In true carefree road trip style, we pulled into a secluded roadside rest area and snoozed under a maple tree as hazy afternoon sunshine gave way to a brief shower.  An hour or so later, we pulled into the ski town of Hunter, NY to stock up on grinders (sandwiches, to the uninitiated) and beer before throttling southward to the evening's destination of Devil's Tombstone Campground.  (We had to pick a badass-sounding destination for our bike trip, ya dig?) 

The Delware in raging flood stage.

After a night of wet firewood (the IIA truly impressed me with his dedication to getting the fire started), we struck towards home, but not before ripping some RIDICULOUSLY FUN twisties right out of camp.  In true Woods Hippie fashion, I navigated this circus right into Woodstock, NY (yes, that Woodstock) for breakfast amongst some real granola/hemp/crunchy/tie-dyed folks in the one organic, vegan, don't-eat-anything-that-casts-a-shadow coffee/artisinal bakery shop in a town that boasts more yoga studios than gasoline stations.  And all I was really jonesin' for was a fucking sausage-egg-and cheese sandwich!  Well, at any rate, we supported local agriculture and independently owned businesses and all that jazz, and, with bellies full of low-glycemic-index complex carbohydrates and fair trade joe, we pointed this show east, crossed the Hudson, and made our triumphant return to the Nutmeg State.  After winding through Connecticut's gentrified western hills, I deposited the IIA and his gear at his domicile and sped towards home on the last ten miles of an absolutely fabulous weekend spent on two wheels...

Have a great Independence Day weekend, everyone.  Play safe, and think deeply and honestly about what liberty means to you...

-Hippie

New Toy

Simmons scope on a Marlin 25N .22 rimfire rifle.

This weekend I picked up a Simmons .22 Mag riflescope for my trusty .22 rimfire rifle.  I've been shooting the rifle with the stock open sights for the last 15 years so I figured it was time for an optics upgrade.  The scope is relatively inexpensive, less than $50, and comes with mounting rings.  I was impressed with the quality of the metal construction of the scope body, and the coated optics will be sufficient at the yardages afforded by the .22 long rifle round.  The magnification is adjustable between 3x and 9x, and the optics feature a quick focus to fine tune the image to the shooter's eye.  The friendly staff at Dick's Sporting Goods mounted and boresighted the scope.  OK, the staff was friendly because he happens to be my cousin and I would tell his mother if he behaved otherwise.

First shots with the boresighted scope are to the right of the quarter

I dropped by the local indoor range to dial in the scope.  The first seven shots landed about two inches wide and a half inch tall of the target at 25 yards (the maximum distance at the range), but this isn't bad considering some scopes won't even land lead on the paper at first.  I fired off another dozen rounds or so while incrementally adjusting the windage and elevation on the scope.  I quickly moved the shot group exactly where I wanted it and ended up with half-inch groups dead center on the target.  Coincidentally, the orange target is roughly the same size as a squirrel's head, so hopefully Mrs. Woods Hippie can look forward to a tasty pot of squirrel stew since Connecticut's small game season runs through February.  Perhaps Savage can post up a good squirrel recipe to go along with his venison creations... 

The end result.  7 shots in a half inch group.

The true test, of course, will be a moving target in the field without the advantage of a climate-controlled bench rest.  I shot several rounds free-hand at the range and let's just say that the game will have a sporting chance.

Do you trust this man?

Equipment Review: Rossignol BC65 Nordic Skis

The latest addition to my ski quiver is a pair of Rossignol BC65 POSITRACK 195cm backcountry Nordic skis.  I chose these to replace my aging Madshus Voss MG, which have seen me through thick and thin (snow cover, that is) for over five years.  The Rossis are designed to be a backcountry nordic ski and feature a full-length metal edge with Rossignol's Positrack waxless pattern.  The ski measures 65mm at the tip, 53mm at the waist, and 60mm at the tail, which Rossignol claims to aid in flotation and turning.  I chose Voile's HD Mountaineer 3-pin (75mm) binding since these are lightweight, durable, and are compatible with my nordic and telemark boots.  I ski the BC65s with Alpina BC 1575 boots, which are comparable to a medium-stiffness hiking boot.  Just like running SPD pedals on my road and mountain bikes, having one binding system makes everything easier.  My experience with system bindings, specifically the Salomon SNS BC, is that they are prone to failure and do not offer sufficient lateral stability for attempting turns...but that's a topic for another day. 

I got the skis and bindings online from Onion River Sports out of Montpelier, VT.  This is the second ski rig I've purchased from this outfit, and their customer service and pricing is spot on.  Check their website.  ORS will mount bindings free of charge upon request.

Float.  Since Christmas, New England has been blessed with at least three good snow wallops so I've had ample opportunity to test the Rossis.  The first outings found me breaking trail in up to 18 inches of powder over minimal base.  Did they "float" as advertised?  Well, not really.  Most of the time, the tips were submerged beneath the powder and occasionally porpoised above the surface.  I attribute this to the shape of the tips, which don't curve up very far in comparison to my previous skis (picture the tip of an elf's shoe).  Plus, any Nordic ski is going to punch through light powder.  Once I had broken trail, the goings were obviously much easier but the ski didn't track very well and kept wandering out of the trail.  To be honest, was more the result of my unfamiliarity with the ski rather than the side cut, but this ski, by design, won't track as well as traditional Nordic ski meant for a groomed trail.  But, I bought them to be BC skis, so no big deal.

The quiver.  The BC65s are 2nd from right.

Climbing.  Frankly I'm a little disappointed with the Rossi's ability to straight-climb even moderate slopes, by Nordic standards.  Keep in mind though; I have been skiing in cold, fresh, untracked powder, which is typically a challenging condition to get grip on any waxless ski.  Kick-waxable skis will outperform waxless skis any day of the week in fresh snow.  Once the fresh pow was packed down by skiers and snowshoers at my favorite haunt, the climbing became easier on the low-grade slopes but I still had to herringbone on the "steeps".  The metal edges gripped nicely on the climbs.  I have not had the chance to ski the BC65s on wet spring snow but I'm confident that the waxless pattern will prove its worth.

Turning.  Hey, it's a skinny ski.  It likes to go straight.  Just like any Nordic ski, don't expect to do any grand slalom carving; the best you can hope for is some awkward stem turns if the conditions permit, or maybe some kicked-out telemark turns if your boots are up to the challenge and the snow is light and fluffy.  Making shuffled-Alpine turns will be easier in the early spring when there is a light layer of corn over a solid base.  That said, I have a penchant for dropping stupid lines on Nordic skis (Mt. Moosilauke carriage road, Teardrop on Mt. Mansfield, and  Sherburne on Mt. Washington), and I fully intend to keep that trend going with these skis, regardless of how poorly they may turn in comparison to telemark gear.  Descents in anything but icy conditions will be slow because of the waxless pattern, and don't be surprised if you find yourself double-poling on moderate downhills just to keep moving.

Gabby dog prefers 3-pin, too.

Overall Impression.  I think the BC65 is a good ski for its intended purpose, which is exploring fire roads, hiking trails, and golf courses.  The ski manufacturers and retailers love to blow smoke about the multi-disciplinary abilities of backcountry nordic skis.  Be realistic.  It is a waxless ski so it will not climb particularly well and does not have the effortless glide of a waxable ski.  It will not turn like a telemark ski.  Therefore, do not expect to take these skis out alongside your buddies who are skinning and dropping slopes on tele or AT gear.  You will suffer and die.  However, the ski is well suited for day adventures on moderate terrain and can even be used on groomed Nordic tracks.  Aside from some occasional glide wax, there is no maintenance.  The construction of the ski seems rugged yet relatively lightweight, and I am anticipating years of trouble-free skiing.