December 10, 2020 at 1:41 p.m.
The Lake Where You Live
In appreciation of glorious ice
The Lake Where You Live
By Ted Rulseh-
Maybe the same is true on your favorite water. Here, the lake had mostly iced over around Thanksgiving. In fact, I was going to enter Nov. 26 on our annual chart as ice-in day, except there was one stubborn, very small patch of open water down the shoreline from us.
Then the weather warmed, a wind kicked up, and that small patch kept expanding. Finally cold and still nights came, and that open patch froze over.
When I visited the lake last Sunday, I found several acres of mostly window-clear ice. Surrounding what from even a fairly short distance looked like still water was gray-white ice, plenty sound. I drilled through it with my ice auger and found it to be about three inches thick, safe for walking.
The clear ice froze quite a bit later and so was only about 1.5 inches thick (I drilled there, too).
Where this ice met the shore I ventured out just a little ways; it was creaky, and I didn't risk going farther. But on hands and knees it was fine - it's about pounds per square inch, not sheer weight.
And yes, I did crawl around on the ice like a child and put my eye right down to it to explore the bottom.
To my surprise I could only see clearly through maybe four feet of water. Ice impurities were not the impediment; there must still be enough particulate in the water to obscure the view. I would have thought the water would be gin-clear, the algae mostly dead and gone, the silt and such having ample time to settle since the freeze.
Anyway, this ice was nothing short of magical; it's something I'd waited years to see here on Birch Lake. Every other year, as soon as the first ice skin formed, the snow came and covered it. This time there was no significant snow in the near-term forecast. Monday did bring just the merest hint of frost, likely not enough to spoil the effect. Given a few more cold nights the clear ice might firm up and become walkable before it snows.
I wish I were still a skater - I used to love that, but now I fear a bad slip and fall could scramble what's left of my brain. The grandsons, I know, would love gliding around on this rare and wondrous ice.
As I write this I'm hoping for the chance to venture out, safely, on the glasslike surface to explore a weedbed that might be holding perch or bluegills.
I also sent a note to our son, daughter and families saying, in essence, "This is beautiful. Wish you could be here."
If part of your lake has frozen smooth and clear, and you're not there. I wish you could be.
Ted Rulseh resides on Birch Lake in Harshaw and is an advocate for lake protection and improvement. He may be reached at [email protected].
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