Jory Squibb’s report from today:
what a treat….putting on your pajamas at 430 PM….when your body has glided over maybe 25 miles of perfect ice….and snow is predicted…so there’s a completion…your greed for more is in abeyance.
i swear the body has an ‘”ice appestat” buried deep in the primitive, reptilian brain which regulates the craving for ice. It works on both a weekly and seasonal basis. When we’re snowed out for a week or a fortnight; when, to quote a poem:
“you couldn’t sail, you couldn’t skate
and harsh words passed,
‘tween man and mate”
then a deep hunger prevails.
So today, on lovely Silver Lake, north of Bucksport, none of us could bear to go home until the weak winter sun was touching the trees, and our shadows had lengthened beyond sight. And that appestat was sighing: …well….
There were a dozen skaters, 4 skim- batters, two iceboaters, and a lone kick-sledder…all lapping up that essential food, fearful of the fasting ahead. Today, I remembered my old motto: never leave beautiful ice! I don’t know if that means you should sleep on the ice; but you should remember the regrets you will have if you haven’t maxed it out.
i wanted to send you a picture, but nothing would serve: Silver Lake must remain, like our first time on Pushaw, in some legendary fairy-land. I had heard that almost all the hazards of my time there three days ago had healed, so i set out on a confident circumnavigation, stopping to yakk with Bill and Guy and eventually exploring with them the last unexplored mystery: “ SE bay”. There, facing the sun, snacking happily, with my back to the reedy tussock-grass, what a treat to hear bill’s exquisite iceboat-cum-art object screech around the corner and glide into the reeds, soon followed by Guy in the pirouettes of skim batting. Truly, is there a realm beyond heaven?
hours later, finally heading toward the pits at 130, semi-exhausted, (self-propulsion is indeed taxing)….still… no way was i heading to that repulsive parking lot: AROUND AGAIN! this time i took more breaks, even started a nap in SE Bay, when the resident Beaver poked up thru his breathing hole in the grass just behind my head, took some raspy breaths and woke me up. You couldn’t sleep anyway; had to glide.
Eventually… as the sun was sinking lower…iceboaters/skimbatters were gathering to yakk in Middle Bay…. and …near the launch, a royal gaggle of folks were comparing extasys before heading home.
This lake reminds you of Megunticook….about the same size…and richly variegated ….this freeze reminds me of the seasons on Megunticook….about one in 5…when the lake, in spite of its chaotic mini-climates…freezes as a unit and—magic!- we are all kids let out of school
When will the snow come tomorrow? could it dodge little Silver again? Could the Higher Power grant us just one more day? Quien Sabe?
tired but fondly, jory