Autumnal Comings and Goings
-
Fred Brown - Oct 1, 2022
- 5 min read
October is that deep-breath month we take when the sizzle of summer begins to fizzle and fades into the joys of autumn. The month always puts me in the mood for a walk in the mountains. With pipe, of course.
Fall colors depend upon weather, shorter days, and cooler nights. These events limit sunlight, starving deciduous trees of chlorophyll, its sugary food.
So, following the natural chemistry of deciduous trees leads us down a trail of transformative annual colors. Greens change clothes from green to reds, yellows, purples, and a painter’s palette of art-worthy other hues, showcasing special autumnal moments in the natural world.
And no, the Pundit is not a arborist. He just thinks he is.
Each fall deciduous trees in the mountains do their best to festoon hills and ridges with so much beauty. When the mists rise over the ridges, and lift away, beneath lie the changing hills and valleys.
During this short, in-between season of nature in its rainbow of natural blush, it seems as if the slopes rust from tiptop to their root tips, in nature’s full kaleidoscopic fashion.
Back in the Pundit’s flyfishing days on burbling mountain streams in fall, it was de rigueur to make sure pipe and tobacco pouch were firmly housed safely in flyfishing vest.
On one of these precious long ago days, Pundit waded an Arkansas mountain stream, a beautiful four-mile stretch of water known as the Norfork. The river was a tailwater of the famed White River, a trout fisherman’s paradise.
Here rainbow, brown, brook, and cutthroat trout frolic for a variety of watery bugs, such as hatching mayflies.
I had just purchased a special German-made trout knife that hung around the Pundit’s neck for quick access. The shiny blade was housed in its nice leather pouch, sans button-down leather flap to hold it secure.
Pitching a fly line into this water one fall day with knife—and a pipe clenched tightly—Pundit found a willing customer nibbling one of my special hand-made ties.
Excited, I fought the big trout and watched it leap in attempting to dislodge the fly hooked in the trout’s hard upper lip. There was wild acrobatics swooshing up and out of the stream with more leaps and frantic tail flapping.
And—as the Stoics warned, do not become attached to things, for they are not forever—I hastily leaned over to haul in the big boy with my net when suddenly, away into the wine-dark water flew my lovely knife vanishing ‘neath the billows like Odysseus’ Ino (Goddess of the Sea) veil. With sincere apologies to the ancient Greek poet Homer.
Like our mortal hero lost at sea, I yelled expletives. So aghast I was, I believe I heard dark Poseidon himself reply, “Go! Go, rove your high seas if you must, and take your blows!,” for right then I lost my most precious pipe as “a wave suddenly took it and Nymphe Ino’s hands received it” away into the fast-running water.
Dear reader, pause a moment if you will, and imagine my shock at the burbling, green-blue stream so immediately thieving away my treasures, along with the now dislodged trout as if for good measure. Just a moment earlier I was a placid hunter in the god-loved lands of the Phaeacians.
Now I was a forlorn man.
A complete loss! Total discombobulation. In addition to losing the big one that got away, Pundit lost a fine German-made trout knife and a very pricey pipe.
Lesson one: Never purchase a German-made blade and hang it around your neck in an open leather pouch while flyfishing fast-moving trout waters.
Lesson two: When flyfishing fast-moving trout tailwaters below power-producing rivers, smoke only inexpensive cobs—they’re the best smokers for the money. And if they drop into the “sucking ebb sheeting with foam” of our finest fast-moving trout waters, at least you haven’t lost expensive blade and pipe, which continue to float in the mists of dreams to this day!
These days, Pundit is content to stroll about in the color sensation of the moment in mountains, pipe firmly in hand. Flyrod left at home.
My enjoyment today sitting next to mountain cascades is watching others wade the streams, whilst I confidently puff and marvel at the splashy canopy of colors.
Which reminds old Pundit of one of his favorite poems by one of his favorite poets, Robert Frost.
A couple of lines if you please, maestro, will do here:
From the poet’s autumnal poem, Nothing Gold Can Stay: “Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.”
If you are a poetry, buff, ahem, you can read the short poem at
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/148652/nothing-gold-can-stay-5c095cc5ab679
Now for a few more short takes.
This time of year, I enjoy pure Virginias. Okay, call me flaky, that’s perfectly fine. I love Virginia flakes as well when ridge-chilled winds rush into the valleys.
I am among those who bemoan the demise of the cherished McClelland blends, most especially the famed nonpareil 5100 Red Cake Virginia.
And, of course, the much-lamented loss of McClelland’s annual Christmas Cheer of outstanding broken flake Virginias. I first found this fabulous blend in 1992.
One more to whet the tobacco appetite is Iwan Ries IRC slices, another favorite this time of year.
This is a fine Old Belt flue-cured Virginia flake with a dollop of perique. You can find its review at https://www.tobaccoreviews.com/blend/2725/iwan-ries-irc-slices
Now, a couple of old pipe smokers of the past: Günter Grass, Nobel Prize winner in Literature and a prolific German author of novels, poems, plays, and graphic art. He was born, Oct. 16, 1927, and died April 13, 2015.
And Evelyn Waugh, British journalist, novelist, and travel writer, was born Oct. 28, 1903, and died April 10, 1966.
A parting quote from Waugh sums up the autumnal comings and goings:
“Change is the only evidence of life”–Brideshead Revisited
Photos by Fred Brown
Written by Fred Brown
Smokingpipes.com Updates
3 Fresh Tom Eltang Pipes |
New Cigars |
6 Fresh IMP Meerschaum Pipes |
9 Fresh Dunhill Pipes |
12 Fresh Neerup Pipes |
Recent Posts
Ok, so it’s that time of year, as we all know. Family feasts, houses, yards, and big trees festooned with lights and dangling ornaments, just high enough to keep the cats from reaching a paw into the greenery. It’s also the time of year when your pipe-smoking-significant other makes vast hints about a new pipe. That’s to be expected since he or she was a good boy or girl during the year. Yes, ladies smoke pipes, too. Oh, you want an example? Okay, try Actress Greta Garbo, Millicent Fenwick, Mary Frith, and my late grandmother (who died when she was 93) dipped snuff and smoked a cob occasionally. So now that we have settled that the gentler side of life will puff a pipe too, let’s move on to the upcoming biggest holiday of all. Of course, that huge event is brought to us by the hefty fellow in a red suit, puffing his pipe all the way in a sled filled with presents, being led by a reindeer with a red nose. Or some such. That’s Santa Claus, of course. Becoming a bit more serious, Christmas is such a wonderful time for families and friends. It’s also quite special for pipe puffers. For many of us, this brings up a nostalgic look back to our pipe-smoking or cigar-smoking friends who have died during the current year. A great journalist pal whom I often joined in a local brick-and-mortar pipe and cigar shop. I puffed my pipe, and occasional cigar, as he enjoyed a cigar. He died in October and will be missed. On the happier side of things, Christmas is also a time when mind workers of the world renew their collections with fresh additions. Pundit included. A French passion has overtaken Pundit, from reading more Albert Camus, a heavy cigarette smoker, as were many French intellectuals of a certain time. Instead of cigarettes many of us prefer the more relaxed enjoyment of pipes for that “calm and objective judgment” in the comings and goings of the world. This brings me to French pipes. While visiting France once in the long ago, I happened by a “Tabac” shop in Paris, Tabac Des Vosges. I purchased a beauty of a Chacom bent. I also later bought a Ropp made from ancient briar. To learn more about the dawn of briar pipes and beginnings, take a peek at a well-done piece by Davin Hylton in Pipe Line on April 12, 2023, on Saint-Claude, France, the birthplace of briar. Also in the long back when, on a cold Christmas afternoon, Pundit wandered into an Atlanta bricks and mortar pipe shop to look around. There, resting in an enclosed glass counter was an exquisite Comoy. An older gent, smoking a beautiful bent, asked me if I wanted to look at that pipe. It had a $100 price tag. A college student working for a grocery store chain to help with college tuition at the time, Pundit didn’t have one hundred cents, let alone a C note! I declined and found a $5 basket pipe. A Christmas tradition had just begun. Since that early time, Pundit has made it a holiday ritual to either reward himself, or a special friend, with pipe or tobacco. A Claudio Cavicchi would be nice. Just sayin.’ And now for a couple of December-born Pipe Smokers of the Past: Joseph Rudyard Kipling was born on Dec. 30, 1865, and died on Jan. 18, 1936. I always prefer to believe the best of everybody; it saves so much trouble—Rudyard Kipling. Martin Van Buren, born Dec. 5, 1782, and died July 24, 1862, U.S. President, 1837-1841 As to the presidency, the two happiest days of my life were those of my entrance upon the office and my surrender of it—Martin Van Buren. And one more note to recall a deceased World War II veteran who loved William Somerset Maugham, the author. Maugham, a pipe smoker, was born in Paris, France, on Jan. 25, 1874, and died on Dec. 16, 1965. One cool afternoon as the veteran and I talked while sitting in his backyard patio, he looked off into the distance as if studying something. Nothing in particular. Just looking. He turned to me and said if I wanted to learn about life, “read Somerset Maugham.” I did. It wasn’t until late in life that I discovered how easy it is to say, ‘I don’t know’ –W. Somerset Maugham And now a Parting Shot: Any day with an old friend with pipes and tobacco is a good day.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 637. Our featured interview on tonight’s show is with Nate King. Most people know of Nate as an excellent pipe artisan. He also has an honorary Master of Pipes degree from the Chicagoland Pipe Collectors Club, and is a member of the prestigious Confrérie des Maitres Pipiers de Saint-Claude. To be inducted into the Confrérie, this past May Nate travelled to Saint-Claude, France with master tobacco blender G.L. Pease, who was also inducted. It was quite a time in France, and at the ceremony. We’ll hear all about those adventures on the show. At the top of the show we’ll continue the virtual tour of Brian’s pipe collection with six of his Satou Dublin-shape pipes.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 636. Our featured interview on tonight’s show is with Barry Kane. Barry started smoking a pipe in 1961 when he was 14-years old. Back then it seemed like everybody smoked, and you could buy pipes and tobacco just about anywhere. Barry is a true old-school pipe smoker, sticking to just one blend. See if you can guess which one before listening. At the top of the show Brian will give his take on Scandinavian Tobacco Group’s purchase of Mac Baren and Sutliff Tobacco and their announcement that they will be shut down.
There’s a pipe in my collection that I cannot bring myself to smoke, though I’ve had it for more years than I care to recall. It’s old, or shall I say, well experienced; that experience, that oldness came to it long before it was in my possession. The pipe is an old Comoy’s Grand Slam from the 1940s. The shape (#93), a slightly canted, stack billiard (sometimes referred to as a Belgian) is right up my alley, and it’s a beautiful example of it. It came to me with some wear and tear; nothing unusual for an old pipe, but more the signs of one that has been well loved, smoked a lot, treated as a favorite tool, cherished, in a sense, by frequent use. It’s the pipe equivalent of a vintage car that’s been driven a lot, enjoyed fully and maintained adequately, rather than one kept in a spotless garage, dusted and detailed weekly, brought out only for leisurely Sunday drives, or to be ogled behind the ropes at the next Concours d’Elegance. When it arrived, those uncounted years ago, it wanted a little restoration. Nothing dramatic needed to be done to it, but the stem was oxidized, the finish a little dingy. The cake was even and fairly thin, and the airway was relatively clean, both signs that its previous owner cared for it, but the bowl’s surface was a little drab and dull. It took little effort to reveal its beauty, to show the lovely contrasted stain and interesting grain beneath the old wax. I often think I should do before and after photos of pipes that I work on, but those thoughts always come after the work’s been done. This one would have been a great illustration of how years of handling that can sometimes make a pipe more beautiful, can other times make it just look grungy. Once I’d cleaned up the externals, it was time to address the inside bits. I approach this a little bassackwards, I realize. It would be more sensible to take care of the inside before addressing the outside, but it’s how I roll. If an old pipe isn’t pretty to look at, it’s unlikely that I’ll care much about it, and cleaning is usually the hardest part, or at least the most boring part of any restoration for me. Alcohol and pipe cleaners. Lots of pipe cleaners. That’s why I leave it for last. Sometimes, I’ll even give a pipe a test smoke before a deep cleaning, just for a point of reference. I gave it a sniff to get an idea of what I was up against, and it stopped me cold. There in that bowl was an aroma that I had not smelled in decades. My head was instantly filled with memories of being in the back room of a fabled Berkeley tobacconist’s shop where I stumbled upon a few jars of long discontinued blends. One of them, a blend called Forty and Eight, had the most engaging and unusual scent of any tobacco I’d stuck my schnoz into. It was sweet, but not in a candy store way. There were none of the usual vanilla, cherry, berry or anise notes of typical aromatics, nothing that could be compared to aftershave or deodorant soap, but something almost musky, a little earthy, something exotic. The shop’s owner couldn’t tell me what was in it, how, or where it had been produced. The old blend had been retired before he’d bought the place. The printed catalogue gave no clues, either, other than being overprinted with the word “DISCONTINUED” in bold, rubber-stamp type. (And, I don’t recall it as being “highly aromatic” as the description indicates.) There was still quite a bit in the jar. Being, at that point, an intrepid explorer of all kinds of tobaccos, whether I thought I’d like them or not, I had to give it a try. It was burly based, but also comprised a good measure of virginia leaf, and maybe some other varieties; I didn’t have enough experience at the time to really pick it apart. But, that aroma was unlike anything I’d experienced before or since. It was something now completely lost to time. Until it wasn’t. Memories are powerful things, and there is no sense more tightly bound to memory than our sense of smell. One whiff was all it took to carry me back in time, conjuring a vivid recollection of something long submerged in the inky depths of a subconscious mind. Look, I know as well as anyone that pipes are meant to be smoked, and that many feel it almost sacrilegious to have a pipe and not set it to its intended task. In this case, I simply can’t. I won’t. Ever. Rationally, I am fairly certain this pipe would probably be a great smoke. It was too well loved by its previous caretaker to be anything less than that. My choice not to smoke it is an emotional one, not something rational. Of the thousands of pipes that have passed through my hands over the years, this is the only one to create such a singular and vivid, almost Proustian recollection of temps perdu, of lost time. It revivified a long dormant memory that is mine, and mine alone, and that’s enough. I keep it in a drawer with other old English pipes. In some ways, it’s nothing special, just a nice old pipe. I don’t lavish it with any particular care that arguably befits the hidden treasure that it holds. It’s not in a special box, or displayed preciously in a glass cabinet. Every once in a while, I take it out, point my nose bowlwards, and every time, those memories return just as powerfully as they did the first time. I have no idea how long it’s been since its last owner smoked it, but in the years I’ve had it, there seems to have been very little degradation of the aroma, and that’s […]
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 635. Our featured interview on tonight’s show is with James Ravenwood. James is the boutique tobacco blender of Ravenwood Blends. His blending started out as a fun hobby, and he now has professionally packaged commercially available products with some great tin art. Part of his interest in pipe smoking goes back to fond memories of a retired Navy Veteran that lived on his street while he was growing up that would sit in his driveway smoking a pipe all day. Later, in 2011 he began smoking pipes and soon after started experimenting with mixing different tobaccos. His other hobby, that he has been doing for 30 years, is photography. He takes wonderful photos of outdoor spaces, and still life pictures of pipes and tobacco. You can see them on his Instagram @thebriarfellowship. At the top of the show we’ll have an Ask the Pipemaker segment with renowned pipe artisan Jeff Gracik.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 634! Our featured interview on tonight’s show is with Warren Ertle. Warren is an extremely accomplished musician with a PhD in music. He started early as a percussionist in sixth grade. Later his grandmother got him a cheap Casio keyboard which he taught himself to play. He started playing in blues bands in high school, and has been a pianist with jazz big bands for years. Even though he was already a professional musician, he took his first real piano lesson when he enrolled in college with his studies in classical music. He is of course a pipe smoker. At the top of the show we will have an Ask the Tobacco Blender segment with Jeremy Reeves. Jeremy is the Head Blender at Cornell & Diehl, which is one of the most popular boutique pipe tobacco companies in the USA.
