If I truly analyze it, I suppose I cursed, and set out to prove that I was not just a piano key.
What Got You Into Pipe Smoking?
- Thread starter Milleniumsmoker
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Magnum207
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When I was young (70’s), it seemed as if everyone smoked cigarettes, my parents, grandparents, friend’s parents, teachers, everyone…. except Uncle Norman. Although Uncle Norman lived several hours away in the State of Ohio, I only saw him a few times a year. On those occasions, while Dad was tamping his non-filter PallMall on the face of his wrist watch, I would intently observe Uncle Norman bury his large, bent Briar into a black leather pouch of Borkum Riff Tobacco. I noticed that with neither looking nor interrupting his conversation, after a few seconds of jostling his pipe in the pouch, Uncle Norman withdrew a perfectly packed pipe. He only used stick matches to light his pipe, and although he always lit his pipe twice at first (something I did not understand at the time), I never once saw him tamp the tobacco while lighting or smoking.
I was completely enamored with the smell of his pipe especially due to constantly being assaulted by the odor of cigarette tobacco of which I was not a fan. Due to the latter, I never smoked cigarettes.
It was not until approximately thirty years of age, when I met my step-Father’s best friend, Jack, whom also smoked a pipe…only MM Pony Express cobs with Prince Albert…. that I decided to try pipe smoking. When I carefully watched Jack bury his cob into his “Luxury Pouch” of Prince Albert, and seemly removed a perfectly packed pipe, it reminded me immediately of my fond memories of Uncle Norman. Although Jack occasionally used a Pipe Nail to rarely tamp.
I immediately went to the drug store and purchased myself a Dr. Grabow “Rivera,” a pouch of Borkum Riff Whiskey, and a Bic. I raced home, sat on the deck, and buried my pipe into the fresh tobacco. I shoved the tobacco into the bowl with the same hand holding the pipe, as learned by observation. I pressed the tobacco down around the top edges as I had seen Jack do with each new pipeful. I then commenced lighting and puffing. I just knew if Uncle Norman and trapper Jack could see what they didn’t know they had taught me, they’d both be proud….but except for some reason, I had built an overflowing fire I had never seen in their pipes. Undeterred, I kept that Bic working constantly, every second the entire pile of tobacco wasn’t quasi-glowing. I kept at it, like a real man should, even through the gurgling and occasional liquid splashing my tongue through the bellowing smoke. I smoked that entire bowl and even enjoyed some bits of hot ash at the end. There, I finally smoked a pipe but no one was around to notice my complete relaxation while doing so or enjoy my pipe tobacco’s scorched aroma.
Too embarrassed to admit my blistered-tongue experience to anyone, and knowing I had may have possibly made one pipe smoking error during that process, I commenced investigating the gentle art of pipe smoking. Once “educated,” I purchased a new, Nording, smooth-Dublin, an ounce of Proper English Tobacco, and have further learned and enjoyed since. That was 24 years ago.
Still to this day, I wonder how Uncle Norman and Jack had seemly continuous, pleasurable pipe smoking experiences devoid of the “Frank Method,” needing $200 lighters, “only” smoking the obviously superior artisan pipes, using solid Gold Tampers, and deciding of which vintage tin of rare tobacco from the 100 available to choose before they need to be sold.
Uncle Norman and trapper Jack unknowingly encouraged my pipe smoking, and I feel blessed to have had them in my life.
I was completely enamored with the smell of his pipe especially due to constantly being assaulted by the odor of cigarette tobacco of which I was not a fan. Due to the latter, I never smoked cigarettes.
It was not until approximately thirty years of age, when I met my step-Father’s best friend, Jack, whom also smoked a pipe…only MM Pony Express cobs with Prince Albert…. that I decided to try pipe smoking. When I carefully watched Jack bury his cob into his “Luxury Pouch” of Prince Albert, and seemly removed a perfectly packed pipe, it reminded me immediately of my fond memories of Uncle Norman. Although Jack occasionally used a Pipe Nail to rarely tamp.
I immediately went to the drug store and purchased myself a Dr. Grabow “Rivera,” a pouch of Borkum Riff Whiskey, and a Bic. I raced home, sat on the deck, and buried my pipe into the fresh tobacco. I shoved the tobacco into the bowl with the same hand holding the pipe, as learned by observation. I pressed the tobacco down around the top edges as I had seen Jack do with each new pipeful. I then commenced lighting and puffing. I just knew if Uncle Norman and trapper Jack could see what they didn’t know they had taught me, they’d both be proud….but except for some reason, I had built an overflowing fire I had never seen in their pipes. Undeterred, I kept that Bic working constantly, every second the entire pile of tobacco wasn’t quasi-glowing. I kept at it, like a real man should, even through the gurgling and occasional liquid splashing my tongue through the bellowing smoke. I smoked that entire bowl and even enjoyed some bits of hot ash at the end. There, I finally smoked a pipe but no one was around to notice my complete relaxation while doing so or enjoy my pipe tobacco’s scorched aroma.
Too embarrassed to admit my blistered-tongue experience to anyone, and knowing I had may have possibly made one pipe smoking error during that process, I commenced investigating the gentle art of pipe smoking. Once “educated,” I purchased a new, Nording, smooth-Dublin, an ounce of Proper English Tobacco, and have further learned and enjoyed since. That was 24 years ago.
Still to this day, I wonder how Uncle Norman and Jack had seemly continuous, pleasurable pipe smoking experiences devoid of the “Frank Method,” needing $200 lighters, “only” smoking the obviously superior artisan pipes, using solid Gold Tampers, and deciding of which vintage tin of rare tobacco from the 100 available to choose before they need to be sold.
Uncle Norman and trapper Jack unknowingly encouraged my pipe smoking, and I feel blessed to have had them in my life.
More or less the same for me really.
I started smoking at around age 13. I'd sneak cigarettes out of the packs of my father, grandparents and other relatives (only my mother was a non-smoker back then--she never smoked). This was well over 25 years ago now. Once I was in high school though all the smokers smoked cigarettes, with the occasional cigar thrown in the mix. Being a Floridian, the Cubans brought their cigar culture with them, so even teenagers smoking a Hav-a-Tampa or other more premium machine rolled cigar wasn't out of the question.
I of course wanted to be different and no one I knew smoked pipes, well except for one great uncle who was in my view at the time positively ancient. So I got myself a couple of Grabows and a few Cobs and started on my pipe journey back in 1995 at age 16.
Since that time I've smoked primarily pipes though I do have the occasional cigarette or cigar.
I got my butt whipped at about 14 when I got caught smoking cigarettes. It was on a family vacation in Maine, way up at my grandparents place where the bulk of my family lives. My great uncle Jerome had a farm up the road and smoked a pipe constantly. He heard about the trouble I got in, and gave me a talking to that included, “maybe you should try smoking a pipe”. He gave me a 30 second tutorial involving an old Dr Grabow, a pouch of half and half and a nimrod sportsman. He let me keep the lighter. Absolutely loved it from there out. My parents didn’t mind terribly either, so long as I smoked outside.
On a side note, I smoked only half and half in Dr Grabows for nearly ten years, using the dip in the pouch method and that nimrod lighter. He died this year at 86, he was a good fella.
On a side note, I smoked only half and half in Dr Grabows for nearly ten years, using the dip in the pouch method and that nimrod lighter. He died this year at 86, he was a good fella.
I didn't have any relative in my family who smoked a pipe except for my father who gave up before I was born.
I loved the smell since I was a child, I also think it gives a lot of distinction to a man, especially if he has facial hair. It is definitely uncommon nowadays, I tend to like vintage and different stuff so that's a point to add.. and also a great way to enjoy tobacco without destroying your health (if you don't inhale). Smoking a pipe is a gourmet experience, smoking a cigarette is like going to McDonald's. Pipes are beautiful objects. There are so many reasons to smoke a pipe!
I loved the smell since I was a child, I also think it gives a lot of distinction to a man, especially if he has facial hair. It is definitely uncommon nowadays, I tend to like vintage and different stuff so that's a point to add.. and also a great way to enjoy tobacco without destroying your health (if you don't inhale). Smoking a pipe is a gourmet experience, smoking a cigarette is like going to McDonald's. Pipes are beautiful objects. There are so many reasons to smoke a pipe!
During the pandemic lockdown I realised I only truly enjoyed smoking my cigars sitting in the garden on bright sunny days, which we don’t have too many of year round in ??. So I needed to think of how to still enjoy sitting outside and relaxing when the weather was cooler, damper and darker. The obvious solution appeared to be a pipe. So I picked one up and am happy to say it’s very enjoyable.
Grandad and Sherlock Holmes.
I used to get farmed out to my Granny and Grandad’s house during school holidays and Gran would always take me to the village library to get a book. She loved to read and imparted that love onto me. I must have been 14 or so, armed with “The Hound of the Baskervilles” and Grandad said “You’ll be smoking soon - don’t smoke cigarettes, they’re awful bloody things. They’ll kill you quicker than the Germans!”
He was mildly obsessed by the Germans, a favourite saying of his - “They’ve been too quite for too long - what are they up to?” As if he was personally keeping an eye on developments gleaned through the pages of the Daily Mirror or the Huddersfield Examiner.
He let me smoke one of his pipes, a fairly cheap Zulu (I’ve still got it) and whichever tobacco he had in. If memory serves me right it was ready rubbed Condor but it could have been any of the “magic 3”: St Bruno, Erinmore or Condor.
Grandad preferred flakes to ready rubbed - “Keeps it’s flavour longer and doesn’t dry out too quick” - and he showed me how to prepare them.
He also showed me how to make his favourite blend - 1/4 Condor, 1/4 St Bruno, 1/2 Erinmore - all mixed up on a sheet of newspaper and pouched up.
He used to tell war stories as the blue and grey smoke swirled up to the ceiling. These stories got more truthful the older I got - flicking excrement at Germans in a wadi, associates getting STD’s in Alexandria, the use of the phrase “cocksucker” by the Americans when referring to anyone, the first dead German, his time in Palestine after the war, getting shot at by the Stern gang.
The smell of the smoke mingling in with all of these places, all of these events; for quite a while I couldn’t fully grasp the horror of war when burning battlefields were replaced with
burning burley.
He died in 2001. My Gran used to make me smoke his pipe, as she said “ It’s like Harry’s never left” which made me chuckle because she used to play old pop with him for smoking when he was alive - “Oh you’re not smoking that rotten old thing again are you? Get yourself into the kitchen with it!!!” While shooing us both out into the cold.
Meanwhile I was growing ever more appreciative of the detective living at 221b Baker Street and the beauty of a pipe.
Grandad said that pipe smoking was a bit like fishing - it required a level of knowledge and skill and was best passed down from father or grandfather to son. You had to know how to rub out the baccy the right way for the right pipe, you had to know which pipe to smoke and when to smoke it, you had to know when the cake was building up too much, how not to break it.
In my youth it was frowned upon to be seen smoking a pipe, I tried it once in the smoking circle at school but it became obvious that it wasn’t going down well with the lads so away it went, except for moments of solitude and there it stayed until lockdown: part I.
I ordered some Bruno off the web and loved it, though I was saddened to see that Ogden’s, Murray and Gallahers had all given up the ghost and been replaced by inferior imitations, at least from my recollections anyway but I could have been confused. I bought some Condor soon after but that just smelt like a vinegary mess, I eventually bought some G and H Rich Dark Honeydew and that tasted a lot more like I remember Condor was - again, I could be totally off the mark.
Over the last few years my collection of pipes and tobacco has grown which is odd - Grandad had three pipes and only ever one tobacco open at any one time whereas I have got 20+ pipes and 30+ tobaccos on the go.
Anyway, some happy memories.
Happy pipes.
I used to get farmed out to my Granny and Grandad’s house during school holidays and Gran would always take me to the village library to get a book. She loved to read and imparted that love onto me. I must have been 14 or so, armed with “The Hound of the Baskervilles” and Grandad said “You’ll be smoking soon - don’t smoke cigarettes, they’re awful bloody things. They’ll kill you quicker than the Germans!”
He was mildly obsessed by the Germans, a favourite saying of his - “They’ve been too quite for too long - what are they up to?” As if he was personally keeping an eye on developments gleaned through the pages of the Daily Mirror or the Huddersfield Examiner.
He let me smoke one of his pipes, a fairly cheap Zulu (I’ve still got it) and whichever tobacco he had in. If memory serves me right it was ready rubbed Condor but it could have been any of the “magic 3”: St Bruno, Erinmore or Condor.
Grandad preferred flakes to ready rubbed - “Keeps it’s flavour longer and doesn’t dry out too quick” - and he showed me how to prepare them.
He also showed me how to make his favourite blend - 1/4 Condor, 1/4 St Bruno, 1/2 Erinmore - all mixed up on a sheet of newspaper and pouched up.
He used to tell war stories as the blue and grey smoke swirled up to the ceiling. These stories got more truthful the older I got - flicking excrement at Germans in a wadi, associates getting STD’s in Alexandria, the use of the phrase “cocksucker” by the Americans when referring to anyone, the first dead German, his time in Palestine after the war, getting shot at by the Stern gang.
The smell of the smoke mingling in with all of these places, all of these events; for quite a while I couldn’t fully grasp the horror of war when burning battlefields were replaced with
burning burley.
He died in 2001. My Gran used to make me smoke his pipe, as she said “ It’s like Harry’s never left” which made me chuckle because she used to play old pop with him for smoking when he was alive - “Oh you’re not smoking that rotten old thing again are you? Get yourself into the kitchen with it!!!” While shooing us both out into the cold.
Meanwhile I was growing ever more appreciative of the detective living at 221b Baker Street and the beauty of a pipe.
Grandad said that pipe smoking was a bit like fishing - it required a level of knowledge and skill and was best passed down from father or grandfather to son. You had to know how to rub out the baccy the right way for the right pipe, you had to know which pipe to smoke and when to smoke it, you had to know when the cake was building up too much, how not to break it.
In my youth it was frowned upon to be seen smoking a pipe, I tried it once in the smoking circle at school but it became obvious that it wasn’t going down well with the lads so away it went, except for moments of solitude and there it stayed until lockdown: part I.
I ordered some Bruno off the web and loved it, though I was saddened to see that Ogden’s, Murray and Gallahers had all given up the ghost and been replaced by inferior imitations, at least from my recollections anyway but I could have been confused. I bought some Condor soon after but that just smelt like a vinegary mess, I eventually bought some G and H Rich Dark Honeydew and that tasted a lot more like I remember Condor was - again, I could be totally off the mark.
Over the last few years my collection of pipes and tobacco has grown which is odd - Grandad had three pipes and only ever one tobacco open at any one time whereas I have got 20+ pipes and 30+ tobaccos on the go.
Anyway, some happy memories.
Happy pipes.
I LOVE SMOKE
Continuing to think about this question and I'm adding to my previous thoughts. I was earlier thinking of more external matters like who might have influenced me, but somewhere deep inside is a greater nugget of the why. And it might be because I like the smoke.
Obvious, right?
Well, I was outside smoking last night as I often try to do after work, and these days it's dark out. Depending on where I wander, the minimal lighting available affects my ability to see my smoke. I realized that seeing the smoke (still?) for me has a significant impact on how I properly interact with the pipe regarding cadence, and thus temperature, and thus potential tongue bite, and thus ... etc.
Thinking more broadly I recognized my love of smoke in many ways.
I love a campfire - and the smoke
I love grilling - and the smoke
I enjoy the smell of good smoke (almost exclusively pipe)
I've read others refer to smoking as a visual experience, and noticing my challenges when denied either partially or completely of being able to see my smoke as I work the pipe made me realize that not only do I enjoy the smell, but I need the vision of the smoke.
I look forward to the time when I can properly engage with a pipe without having to constantly get feedback from looking at it but at this time I still need that.
So,
it's the smoke.
Seeing, smelling, and finally - tasting.
In spite of taking efforts and precautions to "clean up" my smoke smell for my spouse and others, I am starting to actually appreciate the lingering smell of my smoke in my facial hair. Like the lingering taste. I look forward to the day when I really don't care anymore and can let it linger all I want.
I. Like. Smoke.
Cheers
Continuing to think about this question and I'm adding to my previous thoughts. I was earlier thinking of more external matters like who might have influenced me, but somewhere deep inside is a greater nugget of the why. And it might be because I like the smoke.
Obvious, right?
Well, I was outside smoking last night as I often try to do after work, and these days it's dark out. Depending on where I wander, the minimal lighting available affects my ability to see my smoke. I realized that seeing the smoke (still?) for me has a significant impact on how I properly interact with the pipe regarding cadence, and thus temperature, and thus potential tongue bite, and thus ... etc.
Thinking more broadly I recognized my love of smoke in many ways.
I love a campfire - and the smoke
I love grilling - and the smoke
I enjoy the smell of good smoke (almost exclusively pipe)
I've read others refer to smoking as a visual experience, and noticing my challenges when denied either partially or completely of being able to see my smoke as I work the pipe made me realize that not only do I enjoy the smell, but I need the vision of the smoke.
I look forward to the time when I can properly engage with a pipe without having to constantly get feedback from looking at it but at this time I still need that.
So,
it's the smoke.
Seeing, smelling, and finally - tasting.
In spite of taking efforts and precautions to "clean up" my smoke smell for my spouse and others, I am starting to actually appreciate the lingering smell of my smoke in my facial hair. Like the lingering taste. I look forward to the day when I really don't care anymore and can let it linger all I want.
I. Like. Smoke.
Cheers
was on 1mg dunhill cigarettes - had a bright idea of a filter change and a crappy pipe that would leak sap when heated. Started on some aromatic from the eu and moved into the tobacco varieties. Briar sure is special.
I could almost echo your story. For years I was dedicated to smoking cigar which was always done outside per the wife. Being stuck inside all day with COVID remote life pushed me back into picking up my pipe. It took over and now it's been months since I've smoked a cigar. Pipe smoking in the house is permissible. I realized very quick how much I really enjoyed it and am somewhat remorseful for ever setting it aside.
My late grandfather used to smoke pipe when i was a small boy. I was already got used to the smell of pipe tobacco since young. Don't know why, it automatically came to me like a to-do-thing, I set my mind that, when I grow old, i want to smoke pipe. It's like a wish. But pipes sold in Malaysia are quite expensive, so, save a bit of money, now in my 40 plus, i think is time to let this "wish" come true ??
As a young kid this older gentleman, Pete, (rest his soul) who was a Marine in the Korean War used to walk the neighborhood all day long smoking his pipe. When our windows were open you could smell him walking past smoking his pipe and I loved it. Throughout the years I would talk to him and sometimes walk or ride my bike with him around “the block” as we called it. We all lived in old mill house duplexes and Pete was the neighborhood eyes, ears, and mouth. He was a great guy who inspired me to buy my first pipe and tobacco before I was 18 years old. I had trouble trying to figure out how to smoke my pipe despite watching Pete just through some tobacco in and light up with an old zippo. Eventually I learned how to smoke the pipe and my collection grew. The rest is history, or history in the making…Thank you Pete! ?
Somewhere in my mid 20's I was in Louisiana at Fort Polk going through a leadership course in order to get my promotion to SGT in the Army National Guard.
During our smoke breaks when were in class we would all step outside the front door and light up our cigarettes. Except one of the instructors. He stepped out with us but always lit up a Calabash pipe. I never said anything but I just thought that was the most awesome looking contraption that I had ever seen. I really didn't even know what it was other than this huge, regal looking pipe.
Fast forward 2-3 years. I never could get that pipe out of my head. So, I decided to search around and found that we had a pipe shop in Little Rock, about an hour drive away. I headed down there, purchased a Peterson bulldog, a few ounces of bulk blends and 20 years later I'm still enjoying my pipes regularly.
I still haven't purchased a Calabash.....one day I hope to. I just want to find a really good quality, well made one that will give me that same feeling when I first saw one.
During our smoke breaks when were in class we would all step outside the front door and light up our cigarettes. Except one of the instructors. He stepped out with us but always lit up a Calabash pipe. I never said anything but I just thought that was the most awesome looking contraption that I had ever seen. I really didn't even know what it was other than this huge, regal looking pipe.
Fast forward 2-3 years. I never could get that pipe out of my head. So, I decided to search around and found that we had a pipe shop in Little Rock, about an hour drive away. I headed down there, purchased a Peterson bulldog, a few ounces of bulk blends and 20 years later I'm still enjoying my pipes regularly.
I still haven't purchased a Calabash.....one day I hope to. I just want to find a really good quality, well made one that will give me that same feeling when I first saw one.
I’ve always loved just smoking. When I had my first cigarette as a young teen, I enjoyed right off the bat. I smoked for twenty some years and my favorite memories with cigarettes was always when I was working with my hands. Fixing old cars, painting, woodworking and obviously a good conversation and a drink, was my most enjoyable moments with smoking. But, I got sick of cigarettes and quit. 3 years later, I thought of the times I really enjoyed smoking, so I started smoking cigars. Smoking cigars was just smoking when I wanted those moments and not just some habit.
I had a uncle that smoked pipe and the smell always stuck with my memory. Over the years I’ve always thought of pipe smoking and the romantic side of it. The history of Native Americans and how they used it. The woodworking of pipes. Historical people and places of the times. It all seemed romantic to me and I always thought about doing it.
This last summer, my wife and I, were walking through a parking lot to grab lunch. A man stop in front of me, lit his pipe, and the smell triggered that memory. I looked at my wife and said “I’m buying a pipe!” I started looking into it. Went to a couple shops and asked questions. I entered a Texas hold’em tournament, won first place, and went online and bought what I thought looked cool because, I had no idea what I was doing.
I feel that this is finally what I’ve always been looking to do but, took the longest way to get there. Or, I just finally learned how to relax. Lol.
I had a uncle that smoked pipe and the smell always stuck with my memory. Over the years I’ve always thought of pipe smoking and the romantic side of it. The history of Native Americans and how they used it. The woodworking of pipes. Historical people and places of the times. It all seemed romantic to me and I always thought about doing it.
This last summer, my wife and I, were walking through a parking lot to grab lunch. A man stop in front of me, lit his pipe, and the smell triggered that memory. I looked at my wife and said “I’m buying a pipe!” I started looking into it. Went to a couple shops and asked questions. I entered a Texas hold’em tournament, won first place, and went online and bought what I thought looked cool because, I had no idea what I was doing.
I feel that this is finally what I’ve always been looking to do but, took the longest way to get there. Or, I just finally learned how to relax. Lol.
My parents very much disapproved of smoking, but I am still a practising Christian!!
I wish I had had an father or grandfather to teach me how to smoke a pipe. My son isn’t too keen on pipes, but I always appreciate the times we sit down and enjoy a cigar together!
What a great story!! ?