I miss my ice buddies just a little…..as, day after day….. this sunny succession of days unfolds on Megunticook….each day seems to offer a magical few hours of good sailing, as I work the roulette game of winds and ice. After yesterday’s slush, today I bet on the hard ice of early morning….any wind at all would move the boat well on this now-level granular ice, before the late morning slush-out….but….why even go out when there’s hardly a wiggle in the trees at home?

I have the habit of early morning walks, so I decided simply to take my iceboat for a walk in the cloud-less morning sun….. I pushed it, without a sail, around the bend into the broads….not a breath stirred….what the hell….I started pushing East….so stoned….so dazzled ….by the sparkle and the silence….

You could see iceboating as a sport….the challenge of using cloth, wood, and steel to move by wind power across ice….you could see it as competition…. to move a little faster than the other guy….But here in my dotage….as testosterone gently moves toward its nadir…I’m increasingly moved by iceboating as a frame, as a context, in which to experience Wild Space….

I pushed East….the slush runners’ grind-y sound adding to the rhythmic crunch of boots to break the windless, surreal silence. gradually the tell-tale increased its flutter….what the hell…I raised the sail….the boat looks better that way….opposite Dunton Rock the boat began moving on its own….soon I vaulted in and we were off….on 1.5 hours of fantastic sailing on a limited playground of mysterious, adiabatic wind:

https://mapsengine.google.com/map/edit?mid=ztF2YST1dLcw.klPgx0hGdkz4

Playing alone….blasting, for example, toward the lead of sparkling open water near the “fangs”, with the sun just above the mountain….as I say….I miss my ice buddies a little…..I want to share this fantastic experience….but I also don’t miss them….there’s a greediness here….because alone….I can more easily sink into the honor of being immersed in such beauty….

These days, there is so little wild space….sacred space….holy space….I think primitive people were nourished by this….I can’t find many pre-industrial people to ask, but…..just think about the bratty persistence of hunting and gathering, long after agriculture had proven a better bet for delivering a regular meal….think of fly fishermen, ice fishermen, mountain climbers, shepherds….I suspect that the human animal has receptors for this disappearing dimension of experience….receptors which supply a contentment, a peace of mind, impossible to mimic.

when the wind finally pooched about 9AM, I took the time to chop holes in various places…..10 inches of solid, monolithic ice….eventually you won’t be able to get from shore to this beautiful floe….but while you can….I hope to be on it!