After another lazy day of fishing and Frisbee, the crisp campsite air is suffused with smoke. They say there's no smoke without fire but ... The guy in the metallic orange pickup over there has a pile of logs big enough for a Hindu funeral pyre (if only he could get it to burn), and that chap under the big tree seems to be performing CPR on a heap of pine needles. Talk about a twisted fire starter. My fire's burning, though, and without a moment of chest beating.