830 AM….light snow falling….i’m lingering in the magic of morning toast and tea…..why this trans-like calm?….not the slightest need to stir…is it 40 years of meditation practice?….no!…..its the reunion with a long-absent lover…..iceboating

I wanted to add a short post-script to Bill’s post. I don’t think he adequately described the miracle which greeted our eyes at 9AM yesterday as we left the car and walked out onto sunny, windy, glistening Attatash. I kept blinking away my disbelief….how had this lake maintained 8.8 grade ice, absolutely snow-less, against such impossible odds?….

And the lake is not really impossibly small….not with only 7 boats buzzing around. You point to the opposite shore and you’re there in about 2 minutes…not really frustrating…..before you get there, you’ll see another boat and the inevitable match race will ensue…and though the lake is bound on three sides by cottages and their paraphernalia, so exposed from the lake side…..on the fourth side is a reedy estuary as wild and beautiful as any…..that’s what it’s like in the suburbs…you especially enjoy your snippets of nature. In all the little bays around the shore, skaters had exploded onto the perfect ice, perhaps avoiding the zipping iceboats in the center. Here’s what the lake looks like:

https://mapsengine.google.com/map/edit?mid=ztF2YST1dLcw.kkYhuVm6Ea6Q

it was a day for sharp runners, and both Bill and I came back for sharpening after the first exploratory round…..screechy spin-outs were a constant hazard in the lovely, all-day 10-15 kn. wind….why were the iceboat hordes not here?…I had to keep reminding myself that it was not only new year’s day, complete with hangovers; but probably a day of some big TV ball game….and tardily, lots of folks did show up, to talk at least. still…i’d swear our sport’s testosterone is trending downward….

It was great to see Luke Buxton again, John Bianci from retirement, Rick Hobbs, more than ever a terror of a skimbatter, and many others I can’t put names to…. an especial treat was getting to get to know Paul Delniro, over a body-warming lunch at the nearby fry-up. It was thanks to his persistent spying, that “The Miracle of Lake Attatash’ took place at all……gosh, what miracles still lay ahead?