There was music this morning on Lake Damariscotta. The lake ice was singing it’s death throes. When ice sings in the fall and early winter, it’s a happy song because we know that it’s growing thick and strong. But now those deep roars and shallow crystal pings celebrate the breaking up of the plate. It’s down to nine inches, the pressure ridges are dynamic and the cracks are spreading.
In spite of all this action, we had yet another fine day on the rough ice. As we couldn’t get into the south end where the ice is smoother, we satisfied ourselves with the extreme north end, and the cove at the pits. With the wind backing more to the west later in the day, the pits cove became a great little playground. The ice never softened; we never had to switch to slush runners. Not bad for mid-March.
Lloyd, Bunting, Fred Wardwell, another Fred from York, and an intrepid traveller from Maryland were there. What is it with the Maryland guys? This is the second time this year we’ve had sailors from that far south. Last time it was three guys who drove up from Annapolis in shifts all night to arrive here first thing in the morning for two days of sailing. And we complain about four hours to Sunnapee? David Lampton took Fred’s Gambit for a sail and is convinced he’ll have a boat of his own by next season. You heard it here!
Jory celebrated the end of the season in his last post, and indeed, the trip to South Twin, perfect ice, good company, and expedition energy all combined to create the perfect last day. But remember the younger days, when the morning after a terrific party a couple of early risers get together in the carnage, find a few warm beers, and just sit back and reminisce bit? Yea, today was like that. Time to start building iceboats!