Living Up There by Jane Wodening Chimney Fire (pp. 199 - 201) My stove door opened downward and was just about the entire front wall of the stove except for a modest lip that kept logs from actually rolling out. One morning the door came off the stove in my hand with a nice fire getting going and the house still cold, and in about a minute or two a great roaring commenced in the chimney and I realized it was a chimney fire and that my cabin could easily burn down in a few minutes. My first response was to get onto the ham radio and call for help or advice but two guys were gabbing bout their equipment and when I cried out that I was in the midst of a chimney fire they somehow didn't remember that ham radio was for emergencies and they continued their conversation. This was the first real emergency I'd presented to ham radio and the first time that ham radio failed me. I got my big stainless steel mixing bowl and put the fire from the fire box into the bowl and dumped the whole fire into the deep snowbank outside the door. This didn't seem to make any difference in the roaring but I couldn't get the door back onto its moorings to seal off the air that was feeding that deafening fire in the chimney. I pulled out the big toboggan from beside the door and loaded it with manuscripts tapped up with warm clothes and blankets, all tied down with bungee cords. I dressed and got my snowshoes ready. I went out in front of the cabin to see that flames from the fire had killed an aspen tree that had grown up near the chimney. The flames were less now, the roaring not so loud. I kept an eye along the chimney looking for flames or smoke coming out of it but it kept sound, and in the end, the roaring stopped on its own, ran out of fuel, cleaned my chimney without destroying me or my cabin or even the chimney itself. The roaring stopped and I wept with relief and eventually, assuming that someone had heard my cry on the ham radio and would wonder if I had made it through, I got on the radio and announced that the fire was out and I and my cabin had survived. To that transmission there was no answer but I needed help because I was afraid to build another fire and besides, without the airtight stove closed up and doing its radiation technique, I would be in a cold place. That afternoon, one of the low-power guys, Roger, WBØJNR asked if he could come up and I said sure, if he could fix my stove and made no promises about that but the next day he skied up carrying fifty pounds of tools in his backpack. He was rather gruff and had little to say but he went to work on the stove, finally lying on his back with his head under the cold stove and clearly uncomfortable but he stuck with it, would emerge, dig down in his pack for something that would work and plunge again under the stove. When he left, the fifty pounds pack on his back and the stove door back on the stove and working. I had to say he had redeemed the honor of ham radio.