He knows it and we know it. At this point we are just humoring him.
Excuse me while I go throw some old, used vinyl siding in my Jotul.
I figured that Tree,I just hate to see anyone get in trouble,when they do not need to.
Burning Tires?
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I figured that Tree,I just hate to see anyone get in trouble,when they do not need to.
Good question. I wonder about what kind of seasoning they need, and whether they do better stacked or just left in a pile. Do I put a tarp over them in the winter? What about studs? Studs are illegal to drive on here in IL, but I wonder if it's legal to burn tires with studs? :biggrinbounce2::biggrinbounce2:
If you wanna talk burning of seals and buffalo, how about the tale of Sam McGee? (my favorite is the part where the guy had to leave because he didn't like to hear old Sam sizzle!)
Robert Service (1874-1958)
The Cremation of Sam McGee
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold, till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you, to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — Oh God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear, you'll let in the cold and storm —
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Robert Service (1874-1958)
The Cremation of Sam McGee
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold, till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you, to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — Oh God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear, you'll let in the cold and storm —
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
CrappieKeith
Addicted to ArboristSite
A dear friend past could recite The Cremation of Sam McGee...it's been awhile...thanks for the post.
Wampum-
3 points and a question or two;
3 points and a question or two;
- If anyone here should know about cement kilns it sounds like it would be you. It could very well be that I didn’t understand completely what dad said (I’ll ask him), or maybe things have changed since 45-years ago (which is likely possible). If I’m wrong... than I’m wrong... and it sounds like I am.
- Unlike industry, private Citizens and homeowners are rarely required to secure state and/or federal environmental program permits to burn any type of heating fuel, but burning some fuels may fall under local ordinances.
- I didn’t advocate the burning of tires in home heating appliances... read my last (before this one) post where I recommend against it.
We burned Tires on a trail basis and eventually burned Hazardous liquid waste. Our Kilns were better suited for Hazardous liquid waste. The tires we burned,burned very hot,hotter then the coal we used. We did however burn tires at other plants. The wire in the tires actually melted and became part of the clinker. Our plant stopped burning hazardous waste about 10 years ago,basically because of the permit process.
I really only have 2 problems with burning tires at home. One in an indoor stove,I really do think it would be tough controlling the heat. If you have a cat,I imagine it would burn it out fairly quick. My second concern is the pollution. This would be my biggest concern on an OWB. I know guys are burning all kinds of stuff in the OWB,tires,treated wood,garbage,railroad ties and so on.If you can not see your nearest neighbor and do not mind the smell,have at it,just be on the look out for the EPA. But if you do have close neighbors they probably will not like your choices. Local and state laws are starting to ban or restrict OWB in a lot of places because of bad burners.
Back in the 50's it seems like everyone burned coal around here. I guess growing up around coal it did not bother me much. My MIL burned coal up until 2 years ago and I did not notice a problem. A neighbor of mine about a mile away burns coal in her OWB. Every time I drive by and the wind is right,it really stinks bad. This has to be because the chimney is so short. A lot of areas are starting to require new OWB to have an 18 foot chimney. Personally if no one is being bothered I have no problem with it.The problem is to many folks are starting to complain. My suggestion is if you are close to folks burn good clean dry wood. The further folks are from you and you are not bothering anyone be your own judge.
I guess that would depend on the type and quality of the coal. Anthracite,hard good coal burns clean with high BTU's with little odor all the way to High sulfur coal that is softer burns with less BTU's and more odor.
never smelled soft coal but makes sense- sulfur smells like rotten eggs?
beerman6
Addicted to ArboristSite
I wondered what that smell was :yoyo:
mga
wandering
indiansprings
Firewood Purveyor
I unhooked the oxygen bottle off of the torch set, got the hose plumbed into the side of the stove. I'm getting ready to throw some tire chunks, dried hog **** and dead chickens that froze to death in the stove.
What pressure do you think I need to set the oxygen regulator at to get the optimun burn?
Will I have to plumb in the acytelene to get the fire hot enough to heat the house, it's been a little cold lately.
I've already burned all the railroad ties and old utility poles I had soaking in oil and diesel, damn flues a mess, looks like it is coated in tar, but I guess it adds
insulation.
What pressure do you think I need to set the oxygen regulator at to get the optimun burn?
Will I have to plumb in the acytelene to get the fire hot enough to heat the house, it's been a little cold lately.
I've already burned all the railroad ties and old utility poles I had soaking in oil and diesel, damn flues a mess, looks like it is coated in tar, but I guess it adds
insulation.
barnumb
ArboristSite Operative
The smell you get is from the school cafeteria.
Good planning ! See ya saved the best for the coldest months....
Hmmm, might pick up some S&H Green Stamps, if'in ya switched over to Hydrogen. Said it burns cleaner that acetylene....
PA Plumber
Addicted to ArboristSite
I'm sure you've got this all figured out, but be sure to use a rubber hose to connect the oxygen line to the stove. It should stay flexible longer.
Oh, and don't use any e10 stuff in your stove. It might break down the rubber oxygen line!
indiansprings
Firewood Purveyor
I'm thinking it might be better just to hook it to my 1000 gal propane tank, I wouldn't have to change the bottle that often. I just use it for back up and cooking anyway, it might get stale if I don't use it soon.
Like the propane plan.
That way the tire chunks and dead chickens could be used in an emergency.
That way the tire chunks and dead chickens could be used in an emergency.
barnumb
ArboristSite Operative
New Plan!!! I am pumping the septic down to the solids then one 5 gallon pail at a time in the clothes dryer(when the wifes not home of course). When it's dry........straight into the fire. Plus I think I might have found some more tires.
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