May 11, 2023 at 12:29 p.m.
The Lake Where You Live: When winter ends
By Ted Rulseh-
When the ice leaves the lake, winter is over. And now we know the end is near, although a first look outside on this Sunday morning indicated otherwise.
I woke to a strong north wind blowing snow against the windows. A couple of inches covered the deck. As I sat down at the kitchen island to a bowl of cereal, the lights flickered - off...on...off...on. And finally they stayed on, though it turned out later that four circuit breakers had tripped. We barely dodged a power outage, the last thing we needed.
And on the plus side of the ledger, the ice was leaving the lake. Each year the melting goes differently. About 10 years ago I saw it happen almost as if in time-lapse photography. Standing on the deck on a sunny 70-degree April afternoon, I watched a steady wind push an ice sheet to the west, right to left, clearing the main bowl of the lake in less than an hour.
Last year on a late-April Saturday, blackened ice still covered most of the surface. Then overnight came heavy rain and a powerful wind, and in the morning it appeared all the ice was gone. I drove to the Birch Lake Bar on the lake's far end to investigate further. The lake indeed had fully opened, and three sections of different wooden piers floated near shore.
The wind had driven an ice shove that smashed piers that seasonal residents failed to take out for the winter. Another time in a series of warm, calm days, the ice changed from a solid sheet to irregular floating sections, like continents on a map, which soon disappeared.
This year, on the next-to-last day of April, the ice receded slowly, north to south, over several hours. It started with open water along the north shore. Then came a moderate wind from the north that persisted all day.
Although the day was chilly, the water had warmed just enough to melt the ice, inch by inch, foot by foot. From the screen porch I periodically checked the progress, the open water drawing ever closer. By this morning cold wavelets lapped on our shoreline.
Now our east half of the lake lies nearly ice-free. The remaining ice might be slow to dissipate in the cold and snow of the next few days, but it almost certainly will vanish by next Saturday, which opens the fishing season. This morning I bought my license from the Department of Natural Resources' online store.
Now in the early afternoon, big snowflakes still slant and swirl down on the north wind that seems more intense by the hour. The driveway gravel lies beneath at least four soggy inches. I've vowed not to shovel or snow-blow unless I absolutely must in order to get a car out onto the road.
Still, as late an unwelcome as this snow is, I feel less brutalized than after April's previous couple of blizzards. My outlook on life has become stuck on optimistic. Ice-out does that every time.
Ted Rulseh is a writer, author and lake advocate who lives on Birch Lake in Oneida County. His new book, "Ripple Effects," has been released by UW Press. You can learn about it by visiting my website at https://thelakeguy.net.
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