How much to heat some water?
How much does it cost to make a good cup of coffee? The calculation in my own kitchen is complicated enough, given the fluctuation in world bean markets from warfare or striking monkeys, but I can smooth out the equation by storing huge quantities of my favourite blend in the back of the freezer compartment. Similarly, although Timmys and Robins and Starbuck probably keep a whole team of economic wizards on retainer to assure that a cup generates profit, my cost is simple (I never shop there).
As we prepare for a few weeks under the stars, the cost takes on a new importance. First of all, if we don’t have those stars, then the rain (constant or variable in my equation) will make a morning cup worth more in value. We’re also in the brave new world of rising petroleum prices; my tiny tank of gas for the cookstove has risen over 20% in the last three weeks. I’m fortunate that camping at sea level means that water boils at a “good” temperature for camping coffee. Those who climb mountains don’t get as many calories per cup, if my memory of basic physics is unclouded by the passage of time.
It’s a sad fact that a tank of stinky gas, weighing in at only a few hundred grams, is rising in price at the same rate as other hydrocarbons. I’ll accept high gasoline prices to get to the campsite, but after that I want my fuel to stay cheap. I’ve also noted (a purely subjective evaluation devoid of any real scientific method) that a tank of stove fuel doesn’t seem to burn as hot, or last as long. My equation has too many variables; I pine for simpler times under the spruce branches. And why are those metal tanks a throwaway item? They have the same filling nozzle as the larger tank hidden under our barbecue, and my stove can be adapted for a big tank. Is this a symptom or a cause of my new rant over pricing at Canny Tire?
This summer, I pledge to be more parsimonious in my efforts to boil water. One more thing to blame on the oil barons.
