My first alternate solution was to consider another material.  I wouldn’t mind fiddling around with a carbon fiber rod, except that the material is quite expensive.  Also, working with carbon fiber is supposed to be quite hard.  It’d certainly be strong enough, but the work that would go into forming a stem out of the stuff seems overly arduous.  Still, there was the germ of an idea there. 

Oddly enough, I though back to an episode of Myth Busters, a TV show on the A&E cable channel I think.  In the episode, the guys were building a jetpack.  Or something more like it.  The guys made the housing for their rotors – the jet pack was more akin to a propeller pack, as the thing had two props – out of some sort of fiber coated in a resin.  They stated that this was the strongest lightest material they could work with, and perfect for their application.  This got me to thinking: if one could make a model of the interior of the draft hole and slot, it could then be wrapped in such fiber and coated with the same sort of resin.  Once dry, the fiber casting could be incased in vulcanite – the draft hole and slot pre-made.  Of course, you’d have to figure out how to remove the solid casting from the draft hole and slot.  A wax model seemed to be the best solution.  Once the frame is incased in the vulcanite, the wax can be melted. 

One hurtles would seem to be how to incase the wax and fiber frame in vulcanite without melting the wax.  I don’t know what temperatures are needed to make the vulcanite liquid enough to coat the frame.  It is likely that they might be too hot for the wax.  Perhaps some other medium could be used.  A paste or plaster that could be dissolved in some sort of solvent, perhaps.

If this hurtle could be cleared though, I think that one could construct an exceptionally thin bit that has the strength of a much thicker bit. 

I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject!

By Nick Johnson

“Daddy, why are your pipes so shiney?”

 ”Why its the Pipe Gnomes, of course.” 

 ”Pipe Gnome?  What’s a Pipe Gnome?”

 ”What’s a Pipe Gnome?  Why I think it should be obvious.  But let me tell you the story….

A long time ago, men and women lived with all sorts of Fey, that is to say magical creatures.  There were the beautiful elves, hard working dwarves, cunning goblins and there were the Gnomes.  Gnomes are little creatures, very much like men and women, but only two inches tall.  They are clever and curious.  Shy, jolly and hard working.  But at some point in the past, almost all of the Fey disappeared in the Great Leaving.  No one knows why really.  Some say that the elf queen was offended by King Arthur.  Others think that they were scared of our technology and still others think that the just lost interest in men and women. 

 Among all the Fey, the Gnomes were the closest to men and women.  A Gnome will “adopt” a family, and help them out in whatever they were doing.  They work with farmers to grow better crops, with shoe makers to make better shoes and all sorts of other folks.  But especially pipe makers.  You see, Gnomes love to smoke their pipes.  You’d hardly ever see a Gnome without his pipe.  That is if you ever saw one.  Even the women smoke pipes.  After the Great Leaving, the Gnomes became even shyer.  They’d still help out their people, but they’d do it quietly; in secret and without letting their family know. 

 Well, one day, in the village of Saint Claude in France, a noble Italian gentleman came to see a woodcarver.  The nobleman, who was visiting France, had broken his pipe and had not brought another.  He asked if the woodcarver could make him another.  “Alas,” the woodcarver said.  “This pipe is made out of meerschaum, and I have no meerschaum.”

 But the Nobleman was undeterred.  “Then make it out of wood if you have to.  But make me a pipe for I am in great need of a smoke.”  And the nobleman dropped three gold Lire on the woodcarver’s workbench.  Now the woodcarver was not a rich man.  He wasn’t poor either, but three gold Lire was a lot of money?  Why he didn’t make that much in a month’s time.  Maybe not even two months.  “I’ll pay you three more Lire if you have it by tomorrow.” The nobleman said.

 ”Yes sir, right away sir.” Was all the woodcarver could get out before the nobleman left. 

 Well, of course, our woodcarver started on the pipe right away.  ‘But what wood to use?’ he thought.  ‘It has to be hard, so it won’t burn.  But light too.  Not ebony – hard, but too heavy or chenes or birch – which are light, but too soft…’  He sorted though his wood, looking at each piece and then tossing it aside as being too heavy or too soft or too….  Well you get the idea.  He was about to give up, when with a big “THUMP” a large burl of wood fell off its shelf.  The woodcarver jumped and yelled out with surprise.  Tossing six or seven block of wood into the air.  As the woodcarver caught his breath, gasping from the fright, he swore he could hear the tiny patter of little feet scampering away. 

Now the woodcarver was an old man, and a superstitious one too.  He’d been raised with the stories of little men helping those who worked hard and were honest in all things.  He was curious, but knew better than to look around.  For if such little men were about, they did not like being seen.  The woodcarver examined the burl on the floor.  It had harvested out of the ground years ago, but he’d never done anything with it, other than boil the sap out, as it was such a hard wood.  Beautiful, but hard to work with.  “Ahh!  Yes, just the wood,” mutter the carver.  Well the carver sawed and cut and carved and sanded.  Working through his dinner and long into the night.  The pipe was good, but he just wasn’t satisfied with it.  It was shaped nicely, and had a fine horn mouth piece, but…  But something wasn’t finished about it.  The woodcarver sat and stared at the pipe.  Stared and stared and stared until finally, he fell asleep at his workbench.

 ”Well, you know what happens now don’t you?”

 ”The Gnomes come out!”

 ”Yes, that’s right.  The Gnomes come out to help.  Well, Gnome in this case.  The woodcarver had one Gnome living in his workshop.  Phillip John Bob was his name.”

 Well, Phillip John Bob had been helping the woodcarver all along, making sure that just the right tool was at hand and little things like that.  Phillip John Bob looked at the pipe, gently puffing on his own little long clay pipe.  He was proud of the work.  After all, he’d helped make this pipe too.  But the woodcarver was right, it wasn’t quite done.  It wasn’t pretty enough, or bright enough.  It didn’t shine.  “That’s it,” piped Phillip John Bob in his Gnomey little voice.  “It’s not shiny!”  Well, Gnomes still had magic.  But making things shiny wasn’t one of their tricks.  Nope, that required good old hard work.  A little magic would help make the pipe extra good, but mostly it was just hard work.

 So the Gnome dropped his trousers and …

 ”He dropped what?”

 ”He took off his pants.”

 ”His pants?”

 ”Yes, he took off his pants….”

 ”Why?”

 ”Well if you’ll let me continue, I’ll tell you why.  Now, like I said…” he dropped his trousers and began rubbing his posterior on….

 ”What’s a posterior?”

 ”His posterior?  His rear end.  His butt.   OK?  He rubbed his butt on the pipe.”

 ”Hehehehehe”

 ”What so funny about a butt?  It’s a normal part of your body?  Everybody’s got one.  Now, as I was saying, he rubbed his posterior on the pipe, for this is how Gnomes polish things…  “

 ”Why, daddy?”

 ”I don’t know why.  It’s just how they do it!  Gnome rears are special that way.”

 ”Gnomes have magic butts?  Hehehehehehe”

 ”Yes, yes.  Magic butts.  Quite funny.  Now, if we can continue?”

 Well, he rubbed and rubbed and rubbed.  All over the pipe.  Pretty soon, it was glossy and shiny and perfect.  Just as Phillip John Bob was finishing, the village rooster crowed.  Quick as a wink, Phillip John Bob dashed away, and hid among the tools on the bench.

 Groggily, the woodcarver woke.  He rubbed his eyes, stretched with a big yawn and thought of the work he still had to do.  Then his eyes found the gleaming pipe resting on his workbench.  “Oh my!” he said.  “This is perfect!!,” he said, examining the pipe closely.  “Thank you” he said to the room at large.  “Thank you. Thank you!”  Phillip John Bob beamed to himself.  Ever so pleased that the woodcarver was happy with the work he’d done.

Well, when the Italian Nobleman came back, he was astounded by the pipe.  It was light, beautiful and had gorgeous wood grain running up the bowl.  Immediately, the nobleman stuffed the pipe with tobacco and lit it up.  A look of ecstasy spread across the nobleman’s face.  “This…this is wonderful!”  He said.  “I’ve never had such a pipe.”  The nobleman pulled out his purse and dumped the glittering contents on the woodcarver’s bench.  “You will make me three more.  Right away!” he said.  The woodcarver had never seen so much gold. 

 ”Yes sir,” the woodcarver replied meakly.  “But I have one job that I simply must do before I make your pipes.”

 ”Must you?” asked the nobleman rather dejectedly.

 ”Yes sir.  If you want your new pipes as good as this one, I must.” answered the woodcarver.

 ”Very well.” Said the nobleman.  “Next Tuesday then.  I shall be leaving for Florence on Wednesday, and must have the pipes by then.”

 ”They will be ready sir.” replied the woodcarver graciously.  And with that, the nobleman strolled out of the shop, muttering to himself, “Why Count DiLasagna will be so envious.  Ohh, he’ll want one for sure.  And so would the Baron la Farfalle….”

 The woodcarver however, knew he had other work to do.  He picked up a small piece of the wood, briar it was called, and started carving a tiny pipe.  He worked at it all day, with such fine tools that he had to use a magnifying glass.  But finally, it was done.  At the end of the day, the woodcarver set the tiny pipe, along with a little tobacco, on his workbench and went home for dinner, hoping that the pipe would be gone when he returned tomorrow.

 Phillip John Bob was very happy with his new pipe.  After he polished it of course.  And the woodcarver was happy too, for in a few weeks time half of the Italian nobility was writing him about his wonderful pipes, asking when they could get one?  The woodcarver had many orders from then on, but the he never rushed.  He always took his time, making each piece just right.  Leaving each pipe out when he closed up the shop, along with a little bit of tobacco and a thimble full of bourbon.  And in the mornings, he would find wonderfully beautiful shiney pipes.

 ”And that, my dear, was the first Pipe Gnome.  From then on, every good pipe maker has had a Pipe Gnome living is his shop.  Whether they know it or not.  And each and every Pipe Gnome is related to Phillip John Bob, the great great grandfather of the Pipe Gnomes.”

 ”Really daddy?”

“Really dear.  But now its bedtime. 

 ”One more story daddy?”

“No, its off to bed for you.  Perhaps tomorrow night I’ll tell you how John Phillip Edward and Sixten Ivarsson changed the pipe world forever.”

Well, another Chicago show has come and gone, and just as last year I wasn’t there.  Not for lack of trying, but it just wasn’t in the cards.  So what are us poor slobs who don’t get to go to the show to do?

 Well, first and foremost, I think that we need to read and hear all about the exploits of those fortunate few who did go.  See the pictures and reminisce about those friends who we see there.  Read about the fun the folks had, fondling pipes new and old.  And make plans for the next show that comes along.

 Of course, there are many other things that we can do to soothe our souls.  For one thing, I plan on delving back into my photographic efforts and catalogue al the pipes in my collection.  We got a new camera a while back and it takes first rate pictures.  I have a home made light box too.  Built using PVC and some sheer white cloth.  The other thing that I will do with regards to this effort is to jot down the notes and details about these pipes that are squirreled away in my dusty old head.  Give them a story and history.  Or more to the point write down their story and history.  Maybe not quite the provenance of a master’s painting, but at least a start.  And perhaps, if a pipe passes out of my collection, they will continue to add to those notes and stories.  Were this the case with my recently reacquired Roush, I would be drinking in the tales of his travels. 

 I am torn at the moment as to acquiring new pipes.  Well, not torn about acquiring them, god knows that I want nearly all the pipes I see.  But torn as to my focus.  I have limited myself for about a year to acquire only those pipes that fit into the categories I have set up.  Currently, I focus on Oliver Camphausen, Sixten Ivarsson’s, Anne Julie’s, Larry Roush’s Roland Schwarz’ and Trever Talbert’s pipes.  Also I collect the Ballerina shape.  Of course, I collect my own pipes, but I really don’t consider that a collection.  They are a different thing.  A labor of love, so to speak. 

 I have to say, I am proud of my own forbearance.  I have not acquired any pipes outside these categories in a long time.  But the yearning has been growing stronger of late.  ASP’s Ian recently showed me a picture of a wonderful Chonowitsch traditional blowfish that is sorely tempting me.  Not that I have all the cash needed to purchase it, but if I set my mind to it, I think I could swing it.  The urge is a constant annoying itch that seems perpetually in the background.  I desire the excitement and anticipation of a new pipe.  The anxious waiting for the postman to bring it to my door.  And the revelry of getting to know a new pipe.  Rolling it in my hands, and striking that first light.

 This urge is countered by a measured, reasonable voice that says there is a pipe out there that is meant to be mine.  Meant to fit into my menagerie of a collection perfectly.  And if I let fly on a pipe obtuse to my collection, I will miss out on that one that will fit in.  So, I wait.  Count my change and toss the extra dollars in my pocket into my pipe slush fund.

 We’ll see.  The pipe or pipes for me are out there.  I just need to be patient enough to wait for them.

 How do you all deal with the desire for new pipes?  What tricks might others employ to stave off rah purchases?

 I’d love to hear your thoughts.

It's beauty speaks to me in such sweets whispers

Today’s been a busy day.  As a business continuity/disaster recovery planner, you can imagine that my office has been running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off among all this swine flu news.  I won’t say that we’ve been happy campers, nonetheless, we take a certain enjoyment from our work, and hence we have been happy campers.  Only one engaged in preparing for disaster can speak about pandemics or natural disasters with a spark of glee in their eyes.  Most folks simply chose not to talk with us when we wax on about our own delightfully obscure topics.

And this got me thinking.  How much more “delightfully obscure” could a topic be than pandemics?  Well, pipes for one thing.  Our joy is a niche market, as it were.  Were often uniquely focused individuals.  I, for one, can wax on about the differentiation between the Italian, Danish and English schools of shaping, and how each one bears a hand in what is becoming the American school of pipes.  And yet, if you try and engage me about something as pertinent as what to do about the gutters or the general state of the house, I am likely to stare at you with a blank, unknowing expression.  “Yes, we have gutters.  What about them?”

And so, it comes to me that I cannot comprehend what draws one into the pipe smoking fold.  And I don’t mean just as a smoker, as that is plain enough.  Perhaps one’s father or grandfather smoked a pipe.  Or perhaps one picked up a pipe to alleviate the stress of letting go of cigarettes.  And please, dear reader, I do not mean any sort of denigration to these species of pipe smokers.  They are the foundation upon which our art and tradition is built.  Rather, my question is: what makes us nearly obsessed with pipes.  Obsessed may be a strong word, but for some of us – and I am including myself here – it is more accurate than not.  What zeal drives us to learn the history and inner machinations of Dunhill?  Or the artistic progression of the Danish movement?  Or the architectural differences between pipes from Cantu and Pesaro?

I ask these truly seeking comments for myself more than any rhetorical device.  I suspect that there are a number of factors, a few of which I will try to lay out below.

First, there is the thirst for knowledge.  Man – with a capital “M” to include women as well – is driven by innate curiosity.  At our very core, and directly above our fundamental need to compete, is the desire for understanding.  As a race we have compile libraries of literature and untold oral stories as to how we came into being and why we are as we are.  It is this fundamental drive to understand.  Drive to know something that pushes us to become encyclopedias of knowledge about our briar, meerschaum or other pipes.  We long to know something.  Because when we know something, it becomes part of us.  And we become the greater for it.  With the gaining of knowledge, we can place that metaphoric pin with a hair greater accuracy, to say that among the world around us, I am here.

And yet, this still doesn’t answer the fundamental question.  Yes, it does speak to why we learn such things, but it does not speak to why we would want to learn such things.  So, let us continue on. 

Perhaps we want to learn such things because we are drawn to the nostalgic aspect of pipes.  “Here is a great man, who smoked a pipe.  Let me emulate him and follow in his greatness.”  Or that the era when pipes were ubiquitous is some how romanticized.  And by learning the secrets of those bygone companies and makers, we might carry forward some small part of that past.  And yet, if this were the sole reason, why would some focus on the current crop of pipes and makers?  Clearly this facet of our desire has weight.  And yet I fear we are wandering away from the heart of the issue.

…the heart of the issue…  Now there is a direction that seems truer.  Perhaps we are so ensorcelled by our pipes, so driven to minutia of knowledge because they some how resonate in out hearts?  I can think of my favorite pipes, those of Anne Julie, and feel a tugging in my chest.  They reach out to me in such a sensual way…  To me, they are more than just pipes to smoke.  They are objects of beauty to love.  And what greater yearning can a man or woman have than to surround him or herself with beauty?  To immerse him or herself in that ethereal glow of beauty.  So that we ourselves may become more beautiful – my own present and outward curmudgeonly appearance aside. 

Yes, to me, this seems the heart of the issue.  We yearn beauty.  And for god knows what reason, we have found beauty in our pipes.  They are tangible and physical, unlike a painting.  They are tactile, unlike a poem or piece of fiction.  And they are portable, unlike a marble sculpture or bust. 

And in keeping with – in my humble opinion – our most deeply rooted drive, that of competition, we begin to collect these small wonders of form and function.  We hoard them, even if we do share our hoards with those of like minds.  We are proud of our collections, and feel good to know that such small beauties are nearby.  And as with – again, in my humble opinion – our second core drive: curiosity, we desire to learn about these objects.  The what’s, why’s, how’s and who’s of our pipes.  So that we might more deeply commune with the beauty that they hold for us.

I should note here that not all pipes with gaps in their mortise tenon junction have this gurgle.  The reason behind this is a mystery, although it is generally attributed to a particular person having a style and rhythm of smoking that mitigates the fallout of moisture.

While the idea for the one piece pipe is fascinating and innovative, the design had a fatal flaw.  On order to crate a pipe such as this, the stem and stummel had to be glued together before the drilling.  Hence, the draft hole was necessarily of a single diameter throughout the pipe.  And in order to accommodate a sufficient draw, this draft hole had to be rather large, i.e. 5/64″.  This in turn led to a bit thickness that was often found undesirable.  The pipes never truly caught on.  Although a small number of pipe smokers did, and probably still do, enjoy the pipes.

My thought was to use this one-piece design premise in such a way as to allow for both a consistently easy draw and a thin bit.  In pondering the possibilities, I began to see that a modification of the draft hole shape might not only make the one-piece design feasible, but may have application in traditional two piece pipes.

Current draft hole design in a pipe involves either a stepped or tapered diameter from the bowl to the button within a pipe.  The reason for this change in diameter is to allow for an easy draw while also allowing for a thin bit.  The idea that I will put forward here, for your consideration, is that a single ovoid channel, made by drilling three 1/16″ draft holes next to one another and smoothed out via manipulation of the drill bit will provide a better flow and draw than either a stepped or tapered draft hole.  An illustration is seen below:

This design of the draft hole has two benefits.  First, the volume of the draft hole is actually greater than that of the traditional designs while also allowing for a bit as thin as any today.  This greater volume means that the draw possible through the draft hole is as easy or better.  Second, the design, even in a two piece pipe, allows for a smoother, less turbulent flow.

While it might seem counter intuitive to think that an ovoid draft hole with a height of only 1/16^th of an inch would have a greater volume that a traditional draft hole, the math bears it out.

Stepped draft hole

Overall length:   4 inches

Step 1 length:                2.25 inches

Step 1 diameter:           5/32 inch

Step 2 length:                1 inch

Step 2 diameter:           1/8 inch

Step 3 length:                1/4 inch

Step 3 diameter:           1/16 inch

Slot width:                    5/16 inch

Slot depth:                    ½ inch

Sloth height;                  1/16 inch

Volume = V_step1+V_step2+V_step3+V_slot

V _step1 =            (Pi*R _step1²)H

                        (3.14159*5/64²)2.25

                        (3.14159*0.07812²)2.25

                        (3.14159*.00610)2.25

                        .01916*2.25

                        .04314 inch³

V_step2 =             .01226 inch³

V_step3 =             .00076 inch³

V_slot =              .00488 inch³

Total Volume = .06103 inch³

The tapered draft hole is as follows:

Overall length:   4 inches

Step 1 length:                2.25 inches

Step 1 diameter:           5/32 inch

Step 2 length:                3/4 inch

Step 2 diameter:           5/32 inch tapering down to 1/16 inch

Step 3 length:                ½ inch

Step 3 diameter:           1/16 inch

Slot width:                    5/16 inch

Slot depth:                    ½ inch

Sloth height;                  1/16 inch

V _step1 =            .04314 inch³

V_step2 =             .00511 inch³

V_step3 =             .00153 inch³

V_slot =              .00488 inch³

Total Volume =  .05466 inch³

Lastly, the ovoid draft hole

Step 1 length:                3.5 inches

Diameter:                      Ovid – 1/16 inch high and 3/16 inch wide

Slot width:                    5/16 inch

Slot depth:                    ½ inch

Sloth height;                  1/16 inch

V _step1 =            .06104 inch³

V_slot =              .00488 inch³

Total Volume = .06592 inch³

Contrary to what one would think, the ovoid draft hole actually has more volume than its traditional counter parts.  This should lead to a draw that is open and easy as the more traditional counterparts.

As a hobby, I make pipes.  Doing so in the spare 15 minutes I have each week.  I think my next pipe will incorporate this design, and I undoubtedly will let you all know of its progress and results.  In the mean time, I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions of the idea.

A friend come home

Well, my first blog post.  

 I decided to write this blog because a luminary in the pipe blogging community has decided to lay down his pen, so to speak.  Neill Archer Roan the author of the Passion for Pipes blog has ceased his splendid writing.  I, along with a great number of other folks, am saddened by this.  Neill’s blog has been exciting, well written and fun from its first post.  But, nothing lasts forever, no?  And perhaps a few of his readers, myself among them, will start their own blogs.  Try to add their own voice to the conversation.  So many of the replies at Neill’s sight were intelligent, insightful and well written.  Even if just a few write…well, perhaps something good will come of this ending.  It’s trite, but with every ending comes a new beginning.

And so, dear reader, I will endeavor to be as entertaining and insightful as Neill.  Although I doubt I will ever reach his degree of polish

And so, onto pipes.  A funny thing happened to me the other day.  I was viewing the pipes on eBay, as I often do, when I ran across a Roush that called out to me.  The pipe was a tall red sandblasted stack, and just had wonderful graining.  It is elegant, and strong.  Fluid in its lines and graceful in a truly masculine way; like a boxer or a danseur.  I collect Roush pipes, so naturally I was interested.  The pipe looks similar to one I’d had a while back, but let go to fund another purchase.

Well, after laboring over the pipe, I pulled the trigger.  When the pipe arrived I was shocked to see that the pipe was none other than the very one I had let go!  The pipe had set out into the world, only to find its way back home to me.  I have to think that there is some kinship between this pipe and I.  My friend has come home, and I don’t think he’ll be leaving again. 

At least not leaving without me.

NJ

I am sure that this will seem amateurish and unpolished for quite a while.