The Lake Where You Live

I can’t claim not to enjoy this (so far) incredibly mild winter after the way the season beat us into abject submission well into April last year. But this winter is definitely weird, especially as it relates to life on my lake, and probably yours.

Daughter Sonya, husband Chad and the two grandsons were here for a few days just before Christmas. The first day they enjoyed ice skating, the second day ice fishing. The next day, December 24, was warm and rainy, and I no longer trusted the ice.

Then came a few snowy days, followed by the January cold spell that brought more than a week of temperatures down around zero and wind chill factors to minus 20 and lower. That definitely hardened up the ice, but it made the lake uninviting. 

Those are days to stay off the lake. The snow-covered, stark white surface lay undisturbed, and mostly it stayed that way while the cold prevailed. As best I could see, no one went fishing. No one drove across with a four-wheeler. The snowmobile trails had not opened and so no sleds buzzed across the ice going to and from the Birch Lake Bar.

Out on a frozen lake in frigid weather, you’re fully exposed. If you walk the roads, the woods on both sides give some shelter against the wind, but not so on the ice. A wind from the north can blow across a mile of pure, flat whiteness, gathering speed, setting little clouds of snow swirling. 

Wind-driven flakes hit your reddened face like daggers. You walk half a mile or so, you warm up beneath your coat, layers of shirts, and polypropylene underwear, but walking, or skiing, or snow-shoeing someplace else is a great deal less miserable.

Then gradually the cold let go, temperatures climbed into the 30s, and the Birch Lake denizens seemed to make up for lost time. Visiting the lake I found people had been fishing, including some in my two favorite places, the ice in each area riddled with clean eight-inch holes newly frozen over. 

Boot prints made trails in the slush that had been snow. Snowmobiles had scribbled their tracks along the shoreline and into the bays. In a few places, cottage owners had pushed snow aside to create small rinks for skating.

But as I write this (February 1) we’ve seen a week of thaw, and the ice conditions are grim. In some places the softening ice lies bare. In others the lake’s surface is a slush sandwich, a crust of snow on top, sound ice below. 

As of now, at least here on Birch Lake, I trust the ice enough to try fishing. But the forecast calls for days with highs just into 40s for at least the next week. How long before the ice become treacherous?

Meanwhile I enjoy the mild weather, but with more than a tinge of guilt. The landscape needs moisture — we are in what surely qualifies as a winter drought. The businesses need real winter and the money the skiers and snowmobilers bring.

There’s still time of course and, if last year is an indicator, winter could last nearly three more months. How about we settle for two, with enough cold and snow to make the season real?

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 his website at https://thelakeguy.net.