Under yet another blanket of snow the trailer is covered again. But for a brief moment, the trailer was liberated and pulled down to Webster Lake, in southern Mass. Their previous dusting of snow had vanished, leaving 14” of ice with a mildly course surface; not quite styrofoam, but nicely grippy. Even with the fresh breeze, the runners never let go.

Nine boats set up at Waterfront Mary’s, our lovely host who allows us to launch down the alley next to the restaurant. Bob S. organized the day and had us line up here to take a photo to present to Mary so it can hang on the wall over the bar.

Webster is a wonderfully convoluted lake, with narrows, islands to round and various bays to explore. Even out in the main part, the best route in the usual NW wind is a long lap around two islands. Plus, it has the gold star feature of a sail-up lunch restaurant called Point Breeze.

Here, Peter Boynton ascends the elegantly decrepit stone stair. The food was fair, but the view was first class:

Four hours down, five hours sailing, four hours home. Just another day of great iceboating. Sailing in Maine looks rather hopeless at this point. The upside is that we have tons of ice, so if it doesn’t all of a sudden slush out on two feet if ice we should be in good shape. Until then, drive, baby, drive.

Meanwhile, back at Webster we had this lovely image from this morning:

While my iceboats gently sleep…