Column: Recreation

Photos by Jerry Hale | Special to Laker Weekly

Special to Laker Weekly Bob Temple begins installation of a potato gun's firing mechanism.

A potato gun, with ammunition and propellant, is one way some lakers communicate from dock to dock.

There are a number of lakers -- especially midway up the Blackwater where I live -- who consider a potato cannon an essential dock accessory.

One of our neighbors brought one over as a "dock-warming" gift in early 2004, shortly after we moved in and started socializing on the dock.

"You need one of these if you're going to live around here," said Charlie Rowe, the charter homeowner and first possessor of a potato cannon in Morningwood, "... if for nothing else than to defend yourself," he added with a twinkle in his eye.

Rowe wasn't suggesting there was neighborhood conflict. Rather, he was referring to a traditional Morningwood Cove greeting: People who are socializing on one dock and see another gathering down the shoreline or across the cove sometimes fire a spudly volley as a way of saying, "We know you're out there -- float on over and we'll party together."

Rowe got his start with potato guns back in '93 when a buddy, Gary Garst, showed him one.

"I immediately built my own. Later, another buddy, Barry Burton, decided to give them for Christmas gifts so I helped him build eight of them. They spread like a weed," Rowe recalled.

The potato gun given to me was crafted by Bob "The Builder" Temple. He's known around our neighborhood as a superb go-to guy for light remodeling projects that are just a bit beyond the typical homeowner's ability. Temple often steps in and, as they're fond of saying in Australia, "Sure as Bob's your uncle..." the project is quickly accomplished in a craftsman-like manner. It doesn't take anywhere near Temple's carpentry skills to build a potato cannon.

"It's pretty easy," he said, "as long as you're comfortable cutting and gluing plastic pipe and using an electric drill."

Having built about a dozen in his 15 years at SML, Temple has experimented with various sizes and firing mechanisms.

"A 4-inch diameter propellant chamber and 2-inch-by-4½-foot barrel seem to shoot farther and more accurately than smaller versions made from 1½- and 3-inch PVC," he said.

He's also tried a number of ignition sources, or triggers, and found that Coleman flint camp-stove igniters, available at camping stores, seem to work best. Temple originally built my potato gun using a butane-fueled charcoal grill lighter like the ones found near home-center checkout lanes. When that proved to be a somewhat-unreliable source of spark, he installed the flint type that you spin sharply between thumb and forefinger to produce a spark.

The resulting noise is a lot louder than the muffled finger snap one would otherwise get from the same motion. The flint's spark ignites a propellant charge. For a propellant, you can use any cheap hairspray or deodorant (I use Right Guard -- not the antiperspirant) and spray it into the chamber after you've forced a potato into the sharpened barrel and tamped it down with a broom stick, fly swatter handle or other makeshift ramrod.

The contained explosion that results from a spark igniting the oxygen/alcohol propellant mix creates a healthy "thunk" and blasts the potato out of the barrel toward whatever target you've selected. Visualize a handheld mortar tube, brought down to relatively harmless velocity firing a semi-soft, non-explosive shell, and you have the device pretty well pegged.

Word of caution: Potato guns make a loud noise, have been known to explode and fire a projectile at high speed. Use caution and keep away from children.

The record-keeping on who had the very first potato cannon at SML is a bit sketchy, but it's probably safe to say no lakers were making them in quantity and experimenting with firing mechanisms before Temple got involved.

"I first saw one used by some farm boys back in Ohio," he explained. "They made them for rousting birds from the trees."

These days, owning a spudzooka in Morningwood is de rigueur, and firing one is a fun thing to do while hanging out at the dock. Visitors are curious, if not amazed, when the unwieldy muzzle-loader comes out of the dock house. And everyone watches the loading process intently, albeit with some trepidation. Once lobbed on its way, the spud-nick is clearly visible through its travel, and watchers find themselves trying to anticipate exactly where splashdown will occur.

I've even seen potatoes fired from dock to dock, with someone on the receiving end eagerly awaiting a chance to snag the russet with a net in mid-air. I haven't seen a catch, however, as that would require a more accurate shot than I can accomplish.

Drat. If only the ammo had eyes.

Wait a minute: It does.

Fire in the hole!