Megunticook’s High-Octane Magic

It’s become a chiche:  Bill and I approach each other, totally juiced on  10 minutes of iceboating.  Our hands extended, eyes rolling:  “This is as good as it gets ! ”   And today,  we were utterly truthful.  Ice so smooth.   Wind so strong.  Buddies so plentiful.   And me—someone else must have been possessing my body–I was super super organized: warm and on top of things!

We set up at Bog Bridge about 9AM in the bright sun, bitter cold, and moderate wind.  Guy Polyblank was keen to do his first sail of the season,   and Brice, that keenest of cheapskaters, was setting up smartly.  Eventually,  Bill sailed with his DN-powered Whizz, as did Denis,  Curtis was there with Indigo,  Brock was there with his immaculate stormsail-powered Nite,  and later in the day Chris came with his newly-tuned DN.   When everyone but Curtis was ready,  we blasted up to Cheney’s narrows to mark two hazards there with visible tree sprigs.  Then back we went to help Curtis raise his mast.

The ice in the north lake was like a dream.   It was one of those times–i’d call  them rare, but they’re not the least rare– when you haven’t the slightest doubt why you are addicted to ice.   The boat moved so effortlessly, and the wind–though not overpowering–was so strong and constant; that it seemed like you could sail directly into the wind, just with little touches of bearing off.   Back in the South Broads, Curtis had somehow raised his own mast, and Bill begged us to do “le Tour du Lac”, where we absolutely max-out the distance you can sail.  I swear within 15 minutes, we had covered the 6 miles or so to Cam’s Sauna.  Here is the fleet: as we settled into the solar-heated sauna to chew the fat:


(Guertin Photo…..just feast your goggles on that ice)

Denis and I lunched in the warmth of the sauna, while the others, I think, went into town for lunch.  I just couldn’t imagine straying a foot from that magical situation.  (more later)

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