Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight

John Campbell - 1 May 1990

Dr Campbell’s lecture at the 1989 Conference was an excellent piece of science education. The following article has a little physics, but is mainly a behind-the-scenes exposé of scientific show biz. It was prepared for The New Zealand Physicist.

The Skeptics were coming to town. What better opportunity to run a firewalk to debunk the mystique enshrouding this act?

Denis Dutton, the organiser of the Annual Conference of the New Zealand Skeptics (officially the New Zealand Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal Inc) does a fantastic job debunking pseudoscience, quack medicine, clairvoyancy, the occult etc;

stepping in where scientists fear to tread. We owe him a lot. How better to repay him than for myself and the third year physics class to lay on a firewalk during the conference dinner?

First a few parameters needed sorting out. How long should the walk be? How much firewood? How long will it take to burn to charcoal. Many other queries flocked through the mind. Obviously a sly trial was called for. If I was going to do this again next year for the Science Teachers Conference (SCICON 90) why not make a portable pit.

Hell, what if someone tripped on the edge and pitched face down in the coals? Better stick with a hole in the ground. What if some coals stick to people’s feet? Better come out onto longish, wet grass. Lesson One had been learned—the organizer of a firewalk cannot be a fussbudget—just get on with it.

The third year physics students were intrigued. Keen. A couple of second year students clamoured to be involved. Why not? They can form the nucleus of next year’s walk. Where to hold the event? It had to be near the Conference dinner at the Students’ Union. Why not the small, tiered, so-called amphitheatre right outside? The creek was less than 10 paces away—instant first aid.

Hang on—what if it rains—really belts down? Better shift to the other side among trees where a tarpaulin can be rigged. The pre-event publicity creates phenomenal interest. Now there are 80 attending the dinner, 100, 120, 130—the limit. We cannot fit them around one pit. Back to the tiered amphitheatre. Lesson Two—a spectacular event attracts customers to a conference.

The Sly Trial

The trial run was carried out in great secrecy. Denis, 15 students, the University’s information officer, the University’s photographer, a Sunday Times reporter and photographer (their paper was next due out a day after the main event), half the Physics Department, my wife and kids…well almost secret. Only tell those you can trust.

Three days before the dinner the trial fire was lit. Lesson Three—next time use more kerosine—want an impressive conflagration at the start. Just before the Sunday Times photographer arrived, Denis, the arch-publicist, went and changed into a snappy blazer and tic combination. I was in shorts, boots and rough shirt—working clothes. Lesson Four—dress for the occasion.

The roaring inferno subsided to a bed of hot coals. Time for the off. Denis insisted that as chief shebang of the Skeptics he had to be first. Who was I to stand in his way. A few nervous approaches to the edge.

“Do you think it’s ready?”

“Sure, get on with it”.

He knew the principles as well as I did. Although the coals were glowing at around 700°C the parts in contact with the foot would go out and the surface quickly cool. Charcoal has low heat capacity so the first contact is hardly felt. The inside of charcoal is not burning and its thermal diffusivity is poor so that heat transfer to the foot is far slower than when standing on hot metal. One second of contact per foot is OK so there is no trouble getting in two paces per foot during this time.

A tentative touch of one foot on the coals. A nervous hop across the pit and he was ready. Carefully posing and waiting for all camerawomen to get focussed he stepped off into the front page of the Sunday Times. As a physicist I was quite confident about the principles so had no hesitation about stepping off carrying a small placard, courtesy of Colin Hooker, displaying the thermal diffusivity equation. Damn! I had caught the camerawomen unaware and missed photographic fame. Lesson Five—pay attention to the media.

The students went across in various degrees of haste, then the kids, various strays and repeats. Archie Ross walked confidently, for the second time in 40 or so years. (The first time had been on a beach in Ireland, after taking Scottish anaesthetic and tuition from an African prince no less.) I walked three times for no burns. Denis stood on something sharp which he mistook at the time for a burn. A few received small burns which blistered but had gone by the next day. We had determined the parameters to run a successful firewalk that looked effortless and well planned.

The Conference Talk

The Conference opened on Saturday September 2nd and I was scheduled for the last talk of the day. At the outset I asked who was going to walk that night. Of the 150 or so present only six tentatively raised a hand. For this talk, the highlight of my show business career, I dressed carefully in white trousers, red and black blazer and boater. That got me onto Holmes’ TV show.

During the talk I discussed pub tricks, baked a cake, passed burning charcoal around for people to touch and showed video examples of the hype that accompanies commercial firewalks. At the end of the talk the audience were again asked, “Who will walk tonight?” Half raised a hand. Lesson Six—an illustrated talk is definitely needed.

A quick interview with the Holmes team and then home to change into working clothes and prepare the pyre.

The Walk

A pit 3 metres long, 1 metre wide and 5 centimetres deep suffices for a novice walk. This allows 4 paces in all, each foot contacts the coals twice. The turf is carefully stacked well away from the fire. Turfing another 20 cms on each long side helps to minimise the scorching of the surrounding grass. Burning logs placed here during the walk add to the effect. Planks or split logs laid all around the pit help protect the grass as does an occasional spray with a hose which has to be present as a safety measure anyway. Make sure there is longish (a few cms) grass at the exit end of the pit and keep it soaked but not muddy and slippery. This takes care of the odd coal which sticks to an unlucky foot.

Two cubic metres of pine were carefully stacked (three would do a regiment, two a conference of a hundred or so and one a class of twenty). Five or so litres of kerosine ensure a start to gladden the heart of any pyromaniac. It will be two and a half hours before the fires burn down to a useable bed of charcoal so there is time for story telling.

“Have you heard of the punk method of firewalking. First, set fire to your house.”

An old fellow lay dying. Two mates came in and looked down on the lifeless form. “Hell”, says one, “he’s dead”. “Maybe not,” says two, “feel his feet. Nobody dies with warm feet”. The “corpse” agonizingly raised its head and croaked, ""You’re wrong, Joan of Arc did!”

The Skeptics emerged out of the darkness to view the frightening pyre prior to going upstairs for their dinner and liquid courage. Finally there is just me, the students and two TV crews. TWO! So, a firewalk rates higher than a serial murder. Damn, and here is me in my work clothes. Back home to change.

The students and I have to stay sober. Discreet safety instructions are issued—half are to have their shoes on at all times in case someone trips—one on either side, run them to the creek and throw them in. Denis, between courses, pokes his head out of an upstairs window. The fire looks awesome. “What time will it be ready, John”. “When we arranged”. The students and I cook our sausages on the fire. The time between nervous consultations decreases as F-hour approaches. 30 or so stray spectators had gathered for the festivities. On cue the Skeptics troop out.

The coals are raked and all large burning lumps removed. At night the sight is scaring. Denis is apprehensive. I don’t blame him. Small jets of flame are still visible. We stall for time. The jets subside.

“Should we wait a bit longer?” asks martyr no 1.

As a loyal lieutenant it is my duty to give him encouragement. “Stop pissing about—get on”. I know I don’t have to go until he is safely across. He tries a foot in one comer. Physics works.

Denis stands at the far end of the glowing red bed. A student and I tamp it down using flat shovels. We can only spend 5 seconds or so near the bed because it is so hot. Sweat pours off us. Denis fights off a potential laundry problem and is ready. So are all the cameras. I surreptitiously drop a firework into the coals. It lands on its side, wick uppermost and does not go off. I quietly delay Denis, not wanting to give him a vasectomy in mid-stride. The banger goes bang.

Denis psychs up again, poised ready. A student (Graeme Plank) with 80 watts of stereo in his van opens up both barrels with The Ritual Fire Dance. Denis loses concentration. Finally all is ready. We spray some hot logs with water to produce ghostly steam for the TV cameramen. Denis steps off the grass verge and into the Holmes Show.

He has no burns. Me next. I hoist the icon, a very large placard displaying the thermal diffusion equation, and adjust my tie, bonnet and kilt. Holy cow, if this doesn’t get me on TV I will streak next time. For the glory of physics I stride off to obscurity.

The students were organized to follow, to use the lemming effect to entice the Skeptics onto the coals. Amazingly they are elbowed aside by people fighting to get on while the TV cameras are rolling. Ladies first. A student and I pack the bed down after every ten or so people. In the dark those embers sticking to feet show clearly. Denis dashes across to brush one off one oblivious person. This only goes to show how poor the thermal diffusivity and heat capacity of charcoal are.

Around 100 people walk that night, some up to five times. Eventually, satiated, the spectators drift off until finally just the students, the Holmes crew and me are left. We cook some potatoes and we yarn. After midnight we flood the fire, tidy up and go home.

At nine on Sunday morning the conference reconvenes. Of those present 63 walked and 11 received a small burn. But as one said, “I walked four times but had only one small blister”. The first session of the morning on “The Homeopathic Treatment for Minor Burns and Blisters” is cancelled.

Denis is elated. Never before have the Skeptics received such publicity. In the following 3 days he goes on some six radio programmes. Reuters interview him. The Press sort through all their photos and illuminate their front page with a large, colour one of 11 year old Benjamin Dutton in mid-stride and with a look of agony on his face. This is crummy as Benjamin walked fearlessly and without injury both days. Two radio-stations phone him. “Did your Dad force you to walk?”

So what are the final lessons? Lesson Seven—nothing beats a spectacular stunt to attract customers and publicity. A firewalk is a must for the next SCICON and NZIP conferences. Or maybe a compulsory bungee jump. Back in. the 1890’s staged head-on collisions between railway locos packed them in.

Lesson Eight—what whimps academics are—giving away for free what scam artists charge $300 per head for. Hmmm. 100 people at, say $250. That’s umm. This is John Campbell at the Presidential Suite, Acapulco, signing off until next year.

Excelsior!

The shades of night had fallen fast,

When o’er a Kiwi campus passed

A sage, who bore mid smoke and flame

A sign, which did this truth proclaim,

‘We walk on fire!’

(With apologies to HW Longfellow.)

B.H.H.

The 1989 Conference gained front page publicity in New Zealand. It even made a little impact overseas: From London— .

Fire-walkers are caught on hop

A group of New Zealand rationalists claim to have debunked fire-walking. No spiritual powers are needed—just nimble feet, they say. About 80 members of the New Zealand Sceptics have hopped barefoot across a bed of red-hot coals. Only 11 were slightly burned.

“It is possible as long as you don’t exceed two seconds per foot,” said Mr Denis Dutton, group leader and a philosophy lecturer, yesterday. “It is quite astonishing, but that’s physics.”

— Reuter

(The Daily Telegraph 5/9/89) to the Chatham Islands—

Footnote

OUR spy on the Chatham Islands has reported in with this gem. Recently there was a large twenty-first birthday party over there, and in the course of the revelry a young man, inspired by efforts to debunk the mystique of firewalking, decided to show that anyone could do it. Our spy says he did so, walking through a bed of coals in his bare feet, and emerging unscathed. Then he trod on a piece of broken glass and bled everywhere.

(The Press 20/11/89)

The house journal of the New Zealand public service gave the conference some publicity too.

Skeptical hotfoot

It’s enough to make you skeptical whether there is such a thing as good luck.

One person with a skeptical outlook on life is (DSIR scientist) Matt McGlone who features in the Greenhouse Effect article.

Matt is a member of the Skeptics Society which at its recent annual conference in Christchurch tried firewalking as an after dinner entertainment. (In fact they walked on the embers previously used for barbecue).