The Lake Where You Live

Winter isn’t supposed to be this easy. We have January in the rear-view and the short month of February ahead, and yet we’ve had minimal snow and only a few bitterly cold days.

Being a fair-weather ice angler, I’m waiting for tomorrow because the forecast calls for a high temperature somewhere well north of 30 degrees. I’m guessing the electric auger will get a workout against what must be at least 18 inches of ice — much more than maximum we had all of last winter. The few subzero days have reached down deep.

I took one of my walks on Birch Lake one week ago today, and it was a slog. I assume conditions on your lake are much the same. Though we’ve had snow mainly just an inch or two at a time, it has come as powder that now lies cumulatively a foot deep. 

Walking was difficult in insulated boots. Snowshoes would have been much better. I went about half as far as I normally would but got at least the same amount of exercise. It was actually beautiful snow: no crusty surface, no deep layer of slush. I imagine snow like this as a type ideal for downhill skiing.

I stayed near the shoreline where in places the snow wasn’t quite as deep. The lake’s blanket was largely undisturbed. One snowmobile track ran parallel to my course, but the trail that cuts across the lake had not yet opened. Mine were the only human footprints within my field of vision. Far across the lake stood a pair of fishing shanties.

There’s no telling what the rest of this winter holds. Two years ago January went by with fairly benign weather, but then the systems began moving in. On the national TV weather map, there they were, lined up west to east, like gigantic dump trucks waiting to empty their contents on the landscape.

And that is exactly what they did. Four inches. A one- or two-day break. Then six inches. Eight. Five. Three. Seven. Twelve. And so on, always a day or two apart, all the way through February and into March. As the television weather guy last week reminded us, February alone brought us 70 inches of snow.

I wouldn’t want to go through that again, but healthy doses of snow from here on would be a blessing, and not just for the visiting snowmobilers and skiers and the businesses that benefit greatly from their patronage. 

The land and the lakes need the moisture snow brings. Already we are a couple of feet behind the typical season’s snowfall. Too little snow can mean lower lake levels in spring and tinder-dry conditions in the woods after the melt. We shouldn’t kid ourselves that we’re immune to wildfires when the landscape is starved for water.

So my hope is for a more normal but not too brutal February. And meanwhile I can just start to imagine springtime peeking over the horizon.

Ted Rulseh resides on Birch Lake in Harshaw and is an advocate for lake protection and improvement. His Lakeland Times and Northwoods River News columns are the basis for a book, “A Lakeside Companion,” published by The University of Wisconsin Press. He may be reached at [email protected].