Tears of Ice

It’s not unreasonable to ask for a White Christmas. The song has sold millions of copies and snow on Christmas has become the gold standard for the holiday here in New England. If it snows on Christmas then all must be right with the world. But as iceboaters, are we willing to trade “all being right in the world” for multiple plates of black ice? And even better than black, that lovely, smooth glass-like re-surfaced stuff for which Pushaw, in this club’s collective memory, set the bar for perfection a few years ago.

This is Silver Lake, in Bucksport. Three and a half inches everywhere, six in the bays and coves, of which there are many. Have a look at a map. You can sail everywhere. Well, could have. That White Christmas thing seems to be coming around mid-day tomorrow, right after that long lazy breakfast punctuated with the opening of gifts. It looks like it’ll be with us for twenty four hours. What pops out the other end is anyone’s guess.
Graham Lake, just down the road in Ellsworth, looks like this today:

It was tempting to keep this photo a secret, just to avoid breaking the hearts of our southern sailors waiting for the word to come north. Thanks to Bob Lombardo for this.

But back to Silver, which is new to us iceboaters. The launch is excellent, and the close, intimate sailing would be about like being in the Damariscotta River all the time. Small marshy hummocks to round, tight narrows to short tack through, and just enough open space to let the boat run. The possibilities for hide and go seek are legion.

and if you really want to push it:

Please forgive your ice-stoned correspondent for going on and on like this. If it makes you feel any better, we did have a major failure. The light and variable forecast was blown out the window by a fresh Wester. We could have had boats on this magical plate and sailed ourselves silly. As it is, we’ll have to get by with “all’s well with the world”. Not a bad trade-off, but still.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all some black ice.

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