5AM….530AM….the ‘let’s go iceboating’ deadlines slipped by….that left leg just wouldn’t leave the warm duvet….I knew it was cold….below zero….probably 10 below at Greenville Junction, our launch at Moosehead….so, to get going, I promised myself I would just drive to Greenville, sit in the warm car, and simply enjoy looking at the snow-free ice.

….602AM…the computer predicts winds 5MPH going to 3MPH….I call Bill….”Bill, there’s no wind and it’s 10 below in Greenville!’’ “…munch, munch….I don’t care….I’m going!….munch munch…and Curtis is coming too”. “All right, see you on the ice at 10” ….I imagine it’s like that in a war….Your buddies leave cozy foxholes to face enemy fire…and without the hesitation of any other mammal….you  instantly join them…

Greenville 930….local snowmobilers, shanghai’ed by the snowless, glare ice, gather in the local greasy spoon…and sensing that I’m another ‘ice nut’…they pull out their Gazetteers and excitedly detail their beloved lake….trucks are driving everywhere on 12” thick ice…there is big ‘black ice’ patch out beyond the rough ice of our launch at Kelly’s landing….and there’s an uncrossable pressure ridge about 10 miles North…

we 3 drive right out onto the ice and, without unhitching, rig our boats keeping double gloves on against the bitter cold….it’s now warmed up to 0 degrees…and we cautiously head North in blinding sun and 5-10 Knot NW wind. the ice is hard, fast and punctuated by scabs of all kinds: plate shifts, frozen snow mounds, icy nubbles, large white plates like puzzle pieces set in black ice….boat destroying stuff at speeds much above idle…. but gradually the ice smooths somewhat…..we get used to the bash and bang….and we gradually explore the southern section of Maine’s largest lake ….finally, the ice becomes smooth enough to “step on the pedal” and we blast as a threesome just South of the pressure ridge….

by 1130, stomachs are grumbling and we are nagged by the big question: how to sail 10 miles downwind in only a moderate wind….If we can’t wind our boats up, it will be a long, long walk….but Halliluia!….on this fast ice, there is more than enough wind, and with long, long jibes, we are hurtled back to the pits. there…with some extremities now numb with almost-frostbite, we dash for Kelly’s restaurant… hot drinks, food, conversation….admiring our beautiful steeds in the distance.

After lunch it’s a tropical 18 degrees, with slightly more wind, and undiminished sun, so it’s off again…this time with more confidence, and more chance to enjoy our surroundings….and the next two hours somehow become…. that surreal time….a time when the senses are overpowered….overpowered by beauty, by light, by expanse, by speed….by the certainty that this is the most beautiful lake in the world: vast….mountain-bounded….blasted by a yellow sun and blue sky….and when we stopped… to wonder together…there was below us: deep deep clear black ice with bubbles suspended in its 12 inch depth….

(curtis photo)

we now found the smoothest ice of the lake…we argued exuberantly: is it grade 7.5 or 8.5?….and though tempted to stay and play, we sensed that out good voodoo might be just now running out…

(curtis and jory stoned beyond redemption…note ice quality behind…buchholz photo)

So we rolled the dice and headed South….we delicately tried to broaden our reaches….to wind up sufficiently to peel off….but Curtis and I found ourselves married to this section of the lake…each pair of jibes found us only 300 yards progressed to the South…but then…. another of the day’s miracles: the wind strengthened just enough to give us solid, take-me-home, sheeted-in downwind blasts, often miles long,  which, with a few nervous slackenings, brought us easily to the pits….

there….sadly….the pristine, the expansive…became the cluttered, the confined….but it couldn’t dampen the mood: our long-shot bet was won!….Maine’s most snow-bound lake–when all the state is muffled in leprosy, with more to come–had shared with us its rare and precious sparkle….

jory….