The lakes around here have been pretty well frozen up for several days now, and despite a recent warm spell the ice fishermen have been braving them, so I guess they're gone for a while. But, when I wrote my sad little essay last week about the lakes freezing up, somehow my kayaking ace in the hole for such situations didn't come to mind. Last winter, Tom, my regular kayaking partner, discovered a channel between two lakes in a chain of lakes some miles from his house that rarely freezes up. He called me Thursday afternoon to report that despite the cold weather we'd been having, the channel was open and warm weather for this time of year was predicted for the next couple of days, so we decided to start the new year off on the right foot. Besides, it was the discovery of this channel that's allowed us to be out at least once every month for over two years, so we had to do it to keep the string alive. In the summer, I leave the kayak in the garage and leave my van sit outside, but I hate scraping frost, so the kayak gets its winter home in a storage building some miles from home. I got up there early Saturday morning to discover that there was still a snowdrift up against the door, but I was able to get the door open and wrestle the kayak and trailer out from its dark winter hiding spot. I stopped at the convenience store on the corner for a cup of coffee, and seeing the kayak on the trailer got some of the bleary-eyed regulars who stand around sipping coffee to saying, "You're crazy." Well, it was a nice day, clear and warming, and I knew I'd be crazy to let one as nice as this go by. In an hour, I was down at Tom's house, changing into my wet suit in the living room while the Rose Parade was on the television. Not long afterward, we were unloading kayaks at the small boat launch that we usually use here, for, in fact, the channel was open, although there was thin ice attached to the shore on both sides. We spent some time getting ready -- wet suit, polartec shirt, and paddling jacket. I suspected that it was going to be too much for the circumstances, for it was now into the forties and showed signs of going warmer. With practiced ease, we got the boats ready, and carried them one by one down the slippery, snow-covered boat ramp to the edge of the water. In a few more minutes we were afloat, going into the teeth of the gentle breeze up the narrow channel. It's perhaps sixty feet wide, but the ice along the shore narrowed it to half of that, and there were places that we had to go one at a time. There's a large flock of semi-tame mallards that live along this channel, and we can usually get close to them. They were being a little shy today, but sometimes we could get within 20 or 30 feet to smile at their orange legs and iridiscent green heads. Not far down one leg of the channel a small lake opened in front of us, and ice barred our way. Perhaps a quarter mile away, a couple of ice fishermen sat upon their sleds, trying for bluegill. I sure hoped the ice down there was safer than it looked, because I sure wouldn't want to be out on it when it was this fresh. We turned back, and went back up the other way, to the next lake in the chain, a mile or so away. Near the end of the leg, we saw what looked like a cat walking on water -- well, not walking, but laying belly down on it, tail flung behind, getting a drink, on ice so thin and clear it barely seemed like it could hold the weight of a small cat. Given the size of the channel, it couldn't be a very long trip, even though we took two laps before we called it good enough to get on the boards for the month, gingerly got out on the ice at the takeout, and loaded the boats back on the trailer. There's a small convenience store just across the channel from the takeout, and we decided to stop in there for a cup of coffee since we'd earlier had a friendly wave from the owner. While we were sipping coffee, still wearing our wet suits, one of the local ice fishermen came in, and we talked with him for a bit. "The channel hardly ever gets enough ice to walk on it," he said. "It takes several days real cold to get it to freeze up, and then it doesn't stay long before someone comes along on a snowmobile and breaks it up." "Must be fun trying to fish a snowmobile out of the freezing water," I commented. "Not a problem," the ice fisherman said. "We've got a guy that'll start up at one end of the lakes, and run the whole way through, and not even slow down for the channel, even if it's open." I shook my head. I know it sounds crazy, but I've seen it several times. If you hit water going fast enough on a snowmobile, it'll plane and stay on top of the water. People can go like that for miles, if they don't slow down for anything. There's even a race circuit for this in the summer. "You mean, like now?" I asked. "Wouldn't be surprised," the ice fisherman said. "You hear a roar like a snowmobile coming, you want to get right off to the side, because that's what it is." I'm used to dealing with jet skis, but this is a different category. Jet skis float, at least. I shook my head again, turned to Tom and said, "And they say we're crazy . . ." -- Wes *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
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