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The Usefulness of Polypore Fungi
in Primitive
Fire Making
Page 1
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| (Previously published in Mushroom:The Journal of Wild Mushrooming and Wilderness Way
Magazine) Five thousand, three hundred years ago Ötzi, also known as the Ice Man, died
at 10,500 feet in the Ötztal Alps, which divides Italy and Austria. The 1991
discovery of this mummified neolithic time capsule yielded a treasure trove of
artifacts to anthropologists and challenged current theory regarding that
transitory period between Stone Age and Iron Age. Among Ötzi’s possessions were
various species of shelf fungi (other known as conks and polypores—named as such
for the tiny pores on the underside of these wood-inhabiting fungi) commonly
found in the surrounding lowlands. Why did he carry such fungi? Was he aware of
their inherent medicinal value? In such a barren, wood-less tundra, would a trek
through this inhospitable landscape necessitate the importation of fire-starting
materials or cooking fuel? My intentions with this article are three-fold: to
address potential ancient uses of polypores; to share my experiences
incorporating Kingdom Fungi into my primitive skills practitioning; and unite
the disciplines of mycology and primitive technology in order to assist
mycophiles and "abo’s" in recognizing a primal link between mushrooms and
humanity.
Bow Drill Ember--Clematis on Artist's Conk:
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Being both a lover of mushrooms and stone-age skills practitioner for a
couple years now, it was inevitable that these two passions would merge. As I
wander the temperate rainforests here in the Olympic Peninsula of Washington, my
foraging eye is constantly searching for useful natural items, be it straight
branches for friction fire (as thimbleberry and big-leaf maple often provide);
stones for flint-knapping; or lichens, insects and mushrooms for the table.
Brown and White Rot: |
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| During the winter of 1999 I was fortunate enough to teach at an outdoor
school in southern California with Jeff Stauffer, ethnobotanist, amateur
mycologist, and an adjunct primitive skills instructor for Raven’s Way
Traditional School in Arizona. It was then that I first became aware that fire
lay dormant within sticks, ready to expose itself with a little coaxing from us.
Surrounded by sand, sage and seep willow, Jeff would reverently produce a stout,
slightly curved bow, whose ends were loosely connected by a length of twisted
desert agave fibers. He would loop once the desert agave cordage around a
half-inch thick, six-inch long wooden spindle, made from the flowering stem of
California fan palm tree, and lay this apparatus aside while he prepared the
rest of his friction-fire bow drill kit: a rectangular, three-quarter inch
thick, foot-long hearthboard of the same wood; and a palm-sized, wooden
hand-hold containing a small, carved, central depression. Coal Extenders (clockwise--brown rot, Sulphur Shelf
fungi processed by fungus gnat larvae, white rot) |
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| Jeff carefully inspected the length of the hearthboard, along which were
circular sockets of varying depth and charred condition. A triangular notch, cut
all the way through the thickness of the board with a piece of sharp stone,
connected each socket to the board’s edge. The arrangement of the socket and
notch are reminiscent of a traditional-style keyhole, with one point of the
triangular notch intruding into the round socket. Selecting one of the newer,
shallow sockets, he placed the hearthboard on the ground, taking care to avoid
any moisture laden grassy areas which would conduct heat away from the
hearthboard and render the attempt at friction fire much more difficult. To
control conditions further, Jeff placed a thin piece of bark underneath the
socket and notch that he would use to house a rotating wooden spindle in hopes
of coaxing a glowing coal from desert wood.
Cubical Brown Rot: |
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| Flint and Steel On Powdered
Sulfur Shelf Fungi: |
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Momentarily fingering the deep calluses on his palms, Jeff turns his back on
the prevailing wind in order to shelter this ancient attempt with his body.
Picking up the spindle, which is still wrapped once by the bow’s cord, he places
one end of it into the socket, while the hand-hold is brought to rest on top of
the spindle’s other end. The spindle is sandwiched between the hand-hold and
hearthboard, perpendicular to the ground. With one foot on the hearthboard to
steady it, he gently, steadily pushes and pulls the bow, toward himself and away
from himself, again and again, allowing the spindle and hearthboard socket to
warm up as friction slowly carbonizes and disintegrates the cell walls of the
fan palm wood. These small, darkened, powder-like wooden particles, or char,
which will fuel the future coal, fall into the notch—the notch protects the char
from energy-sapping wind and allows heat to accumulate here from the frictional
process.
Flint and Marcasite On Tinder
Fungus (unaltered): |
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| Letting the tourists do the work for me (pulverized white rot wood
on trail): |
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| Using his index and middle fingers on his bow-hand he takes up the slack from
the stretching cordage, which secures the cord’s grip on the rotating spindle.
Pressing the hand-hold down harder with his other hand, Jeff increases the speed
of the bow-draw. Whitish-buff smoke emanates from the socket as more char pours
into the notch. After a few more seconds a hint of bright red color emerges from
the notch as the char reaches approximately 800-degrees Fahrenheit and
spontaneously combusts. Tinder Nest -- Brown Rot (good for ember) on White Rot
(good for flame) and moss |
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| Success! |
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On to
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