Nov 10, 2008

Ice Fever, that seasonal affective disorder, has been cropping
up among club members: Pete Ashley excitedly reported skim ice on an
abandoned bucket in his back yard. Bill Buccholz tried to skate on
the ice in his rain barrel with mixed results. And the mildness of
these past days adds that deep primordial fear: Maybe this year,
winter will be called off!

Perhaps tomorrow's ice party down at Dave Fortier's will bring
the fever down. It will certainly add padding and insulation for
those upcoming frigid adventures. But the fever could worsen. It
might even require that desperate lancing of its pustule: a CHERCHER
LA GLACE road trip. Such road trips have the added advantage of
getting the "hunter" out from under the watchful eye of the
"gatherer" and her eternal quest for his further civilization.

These road trips try to improve on the four main necessities of
early season ice. 1. More latitude. that means go north. 2.
more altitude, which is an easy way to go north, since every 1000
feet of altitude moves you 600 miles north. You could be in northern
Canada simply by looking for ice on Mt. Washington's summit! 3.
Less depth of water, because it's easier to freeze shallow ponds,
and 4. No wind at the time of freezing. This, as we all know, is a
total crap-shoot.

One inspiration for me are the Vermont nordic skaters, who keep
their hungry eyes on Sterling Pond, near Stowe, Vermont. You can see
them skating on it (eat your hearts out, lads) on November 11 of
last season! here's the picture:
http://nordicskater.com/

What's more they kibbitz with each other about it on:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VTNordicSkating/ So we Mainers can
get some high-tech spying without having to travel 5 hours.

For CHERCHER-ing closer to home, our beloved Maine Gazetteer
gives the altitudes of ponds in little blue letters, and a few of
them up northwest of Farmington look promising: Mt. Blue has a pond
at 1171 ft and Tumbledown Mt. has a tiny pond at almost 2800 feet.
These would both require a pretty good hike with gear in a backpack.
Hmmmm.... And who knows if there's cell phone coverage in case of
trouble?
Most inviting, though, are three ponds east of Mooselookmeguntic
Lake: Long, Round, and Sabbath Day Ponds, all at about 2300 feet and
close to the road. Hooray! let's wait for the 20 degree temps of
Monday night, gas up the Volksy, and see what happens. One way or
another, I swear this disease is curable!

the ex-treas.



I stared long and hard at my desktop photo. I looked up the date on it: Dec 7 of last year. That lovely late afternoon when Lloyd and I checked ice on Unity pond. Thank heaven last season started on time. Then I mosy-ed over to the calendar: October 22. This can't be: time is not moving!
I remember falling in love at a dance and making a date with her for two days later. Then, my life absolutely stopped. Couldn't get the clock to move for two days. This feels just as bad, maybe worse.
How can I possibly free up this gelled calendar? Out in the garage is the same old gear, ready to go. "It worked great last year, so it'll work this year". But no, there are some important chores getting lost: I'll take those nordic skates down for sharpening, whether they need it or not. I'll head for Lloyd's belt sander with the iceboat runners. I'll sign up for skating lessons at the ice rink. And.....and.....I'll---it'll cost money, but---yes, I will: buy a great new, safe, appropriate, light-weight HELMET.
That old 3/4 motorcycle helmet came into my life in 1998 with a motorcycle purchase. It's stamped 1985. Now we all know helmets fossilize in 7 years or so and should be replaced. Yet the very thought of pulling that day-glow orange, sweat-stained bucket over my noggin and lowering those scratchy amber goggles fills me with utter, utter delight: A new adventure is beginning.
Yet I had an OBE (out of boat experience) last season that took the whole blasted summer to heal. It was during those magical (dare I say orgasmic?) 4 days on Damariscotta and Cleary that closed last season with a blurr of excitement. A snippet from the second day:

" Let's face it, in late March we'll sail on cow manure.....but our dreams are always haunted by smoothness. and this ice, especially after the clatter and bash of the corn, was perfectly quiet to sail on, and with the intermittent blasts of wind, had certainly mile-a-minute potential. It was so smooth, your only sense of speed was the crazily accelerating apparent wind. And flashing beneath your runners, were the patchwork shades of color........Lloyd and I worked further south, wanting to know the extent of this amazing gold mine. ........We got into a rythum of tacks between two hazard buoys and as I rounded one end, I saw with horror, Buchholz's "Indigo", which virtually NEVER hikes, hike up almost to 60 degrees in a mighty gust and poise there. With his long plank, he was way. way up above the ice. He dumped the sheet, threw the helm down, and rode that sweetie down to safety!
I was just, stupidly, wishing I had a digital camera when, daaa....the same rogue gust hit me. The sheet shot out of my hand and ran to the knot. Runners screeching, the boat hiked, and balanced sickeningly, as I leaned out on the runner plank to wrestle it down. But as it banged down, I found myself thrown out, my helmet hitting the ice, my body spinning end-to-end, endlessly on the smooth smooth ice, laying on my boat-cushioned spine (I had stuffed a boat cushion in my boiler suit), with the most delighful dervish-like sensation.
when I finally stopped spinning. opened my eyes, and sat up, there was no time to lose: I might be run over by my riderless horse, or it might self-destruct on some shore. But I saw that the tiller was hard-over and it was sailing in tight circles nearby. So I timed my approach and grabbed it just as it began a new tack."

Soooo, here I am on October 22, and my clavicle no longer talks back to me as it did all summer. What can I do to preserve this old carcuss? Discretion? Wisdom? Caution? Noooooooo! Never! But I'll call Bunting as soon as it's a socially-acceptable time of day and see where he got that great downhill skiier's helmet. then, I'll... I'll----you have this in writing, now---protect my few remaining brain cells.

the ex-treas.

PS: $5 dues in cash to Lloyd Roberts' mattress, 140 Porter St. Rockport, ME 04856. No hotline this year. just icespam and websites.
Iceboat gathering: at Dave Fortier's in Biddeford, ME Sunday Nov 9. Sublimate with food! Mapquest: 12 Chretien Rd.

Dear Fellow Ice Fanatics.

Welcome to the pre-season doldrums! I checked on flights to the Anarctic icecap: $1979 round trip from Boston. Course I'd have to get the gear there, too, sooooo I'm just gonna sharpen the runners and think Ice.

I won' t trouble you with all the details of this year's first iceboating dream. It involved being in Tai-land, where they were flooding the parking lots to iceboat on. I had forgotten my gear, and forgotten how to iceboat, and they were shouting to me in a strange language. In short, the dream had all the usual fears and insecurities. Check maineicesailors.com for past dreams. This year's had no sex in it. What does that mean?

Meanwhile, I moved the iceboat from the basement to the garage. I can't imagine why. Its September 14. And checked for rust on the runners. and swore I'd buy a new helmet this year, and also some proper ice claws instead of those home-brew ones I use.

Soon we'll give you the dates of the fall get-together. Then we can really build up group frustration.

Meanwhile I'm getting ready for winter home heating. I've heaved some more insulation around, especially the ends of the floor joists in the basement ceiling which weren't insulated. Then bought a Regency wood stove and installed it in the basement, connecting it to the furnace flue IN PLACE OF THE OIL FURNACE, which I plan to mothball. Then ordered 4 cords of seasoned wood, and 8 cords of unseasoned wood for future seasons. This is stacked in the sun on cast-off oak pallets which the hardware store gives me.

Then I put a timer on the hot water heater, which is now turned on only from 5-7 PM. The next month's bill was $10 less, so that's $120 a year saving. Soon I'll look to the windows and doors...

So that feels a little like ice season prep, though not quite.....


Jory, the ex-treasurer.