We inherited a piece of curupay lumber when we moved here. A meter long, perhaps 2″x3″, it weighs much more than any unsuspecting person would imagine. Curupay is used for beams, and though it has about the highest heat output of any wood here, its price is such that you’d be crazy to burn it. Unless, of course, you happen to have had incompetent local aluminum door installers destroy your floor and the frame of the wooden door they removed.
The pieces have sat, undisturbed, in our carport for a very long time. I tried cutting one with our crappy little German circular saw, which basically burned its way through the board, but my new table saw zipped right through them.
This is what just one of those pieces looks like burning. I’m scared to put in more than one piece. You can feel the heat across the room. Especially nice on a cold day like today, in a typically uninsulated Uruguay house.
When we got our first wood stove, I saw several places on very busy roads, with massive piles of firewood (leña), apparently for sale, unattended, and no way to contact the seller. Surely they would paint a phone number on the wall, at least?
After a few years here, despite some excellently run local businesses, the simple act of procuring materials often seems like a game of “catch me if you can.” Still, I think might suggest a sign if I meet the owner:
Leña means firewood, and the guy who sells it is a leñero. This guy appears on weekends and holidays near the zoo (yes, we have a zoo). He always waves to everybody. I’ve waved to him for a couple of years when I walk the dogs, thinking one of these days I want to ask him about that truck.
Finally did: 1954 Commer (English). He’s got a better one, he says, and plans to put the engine from this into that. I didn’t ask when, or how long he’s been planning that; meaningless questions in the land where ‘next week’ can mean ‘next month.’