Campfires are comforting and classic, primal and illuminating (literally). The one thing they haven't been until recently? Portable. But the rise in movable firepits has changed the old s'mores station in important ways.

While the fire has been a part of camping since, well, the dawn of civilization, they have particular relevance in the drippy, chilly Pacific Northwest. A good fire does more than warm the people around it, it gives shape to the outdoor evening. In established campsites, a metal circle is usually one of two permanent structures (the other being a picnic table); in dispersed, unofficial spots, a rock ring stands in. But increasingly, newfangled firepits have taken hold.

Solo Stove was launched in 2010 with an eye toward cooking, but in 2016 the Texas-based company released what quickly became its signature product. Its metal firepits are made to be carried to beach or forest, a stainless steel cylinder weighing 15 or 25 pounds. They're increasingly common on Washington beaches, in the parking lots of ski areas, and at ad hoc campsites around the Northwest.

Beyond its portability, Solo Stove claims one other upgrade, a smokeless fire. Ty Hancock, product marketing manager for Solo Stove, is quick to note that the technology around reducing smoke is far older than the company. "The Comanche tribes in Texas used to build smokeless fires with tunnels underneath it to feed it air," he says; the Solo Stove firepits use a process called secondary burn to achieve the same thing. Vent holes cycle warmed oxygen into the flames, making them hot enough to burn off smoke. Voila, no campfire stink in your hair and Patagonia fleece.

It's not the only feature to recommend the equipment; the effects of out-of-control campfires can contribute to the dreaded wildfire smoke season. Solo Stoves have an optional shield over the top to keep sparks and embers from escaping. And the lid, capping the pit when not in use, means a middle-of-the-night wind can't reignite a fire that the maker thought was out. The safety benefits of a metal, portable pit mean that some land management organizations classify them as closed pits, allowed when open fires are banned. (But not all parks and land types—so don't strike the match without checking.)

"It harkens back to that primal feeling of being around a fire, but more modern," says Hancock. It's Kumbaya 2.0. Today Solo Stoves top review lists and the company introduced a mini tabletop version.

Similar products have spread over the last decade. Arizona's Fireside Outdoor makes a table-style popup pit that can collapse down into a carrying bag, just eight pounds to shove in the car. BioLite's Firepit+ uses battery-powered air jets to create a fire hot enough to grill on. And when fire bans nix all forms of burning wood, propane gas fires can give the visual of a crackling fire even as they lack the actual crackle.

Have humans finally optimized the old-fashioned campfire? At at least $100 a pop (and over $400 for Solo Stove's biggest), they don't come cheap. Plus, they lack a certain rustic charm. Solo Stoves and the similar Breeo firepits hide the burning wood itself, the part that's both ideal for a perfect s'more roast and beautiful when the color throbs with heat.

And as any kid who likes to poke the coals with a stick knows (even as you're told, repeatedly, to stop that right now before you put someone's eye out), fiddling with the fire is the fun part.