Winter Ice

Winter Ice

         The Lake reflected invisible rays as the early morning sun pulled itself free
from the earth for the start of each day. This was a lake large enough to sail upon
when the winds descended from our mountains and yet small enough to hide
from those who traveled the nearby road only to reach a destination without the effort
to enjoy the scenery. It was fed by water that ran from the mountains. The water ran
so clear and cold that it would be late summer before any but the brave of heart
would willingly place their warm body in that cold water.

         Near the edge of the lake, sitting somewhat forlorn was my sixteen - foot M scow.
It sat on the ground and was tilted at an awkward angle. Its mast was pointed off in a direction suited only to full sail with me standing out on its edge, over the water to keep it upright and
moving fast with the wind. It would be some months from then before the M scow and I would be on the lake. Now the lake was frozen. Some said that the ice was many feet deep. I have always been a little skeptical when hearing comments like “ trust me, I know”; “the fuel tank is full”; “she is a real beauty”; or “ the ice is three feet thick”.

         We now approached the lake with ice skates in one hand and I held the hand of my wife Constance in my other hand. Our children followed short steps behind clutching their ice skates closely to their chests with various mittens or gloves and warm hats covering their heads and ears. “ Sanjo”, our Doberman Pincer, was running at full gait in ever widening circles behind, at the side and in front of us with her ears pointed and displaying a toothy smile. Some people, who know Doberman’s only by slanderous reputation, have failed to recognize this toothy smile for what it is. Just take my word for it.

         We now sat on large logs at the edge of the lake, taking our snowshoes off and putting our warm socks and skates on. I, like any true alpha male had everyone remain on the shoreline while I slowly eased my way onto the lake to skate slowly away from the shore while peering down into the ice. The ice was clear and I could see that it was indeed frozen a number of feet thick. We all took to the ice for our versions of figure skating, ice racing and prat falls. Sanjo continued to run in great circles with the addition of slipping and sliding on the turns.

         We continued until the sun drifted down and touched the tops of the mountains. Our energy started to wane, the cold seemed to bite a little deeper and Sanjo slowed her energetic galloping circles. We headed for the shore to rid ourselves of the skates that were now feeling colder, tighter and less comfortable on our feet. We walked our short, up hill distance to the comfort of our home. The fire now glowed as we wiggled our toes in front of our snapping and crackling fireplace, sipping our hot chocolate with slowly melting marshmallows floating near the rim.
Richard D. Acott
Memories of 1979 and Terry Lake
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