Half the fleet that showed up this morning at Moosehead looked at the conditions and decided it wasn’t for them. But tip of the hemet anyway for taking a chance and making the drive. It might always turn out differently than it will.
The other half made three attempts at Kineo and failed. The first fleet was Gagnon, Guertin, Buchholz and Boynton, all Whizz. Gagnon’s boom broke soon after the first pressure ridge rounding, so he was escorted back to the pits where it was determined that nothing could be done to effect a satisfactory repair. Boynton got his fill of extreme sailing and packed up.

The second attempt was Guertin, Guiness ( in the Hagarty) and Buchholz. They got as far as Spencer Bay, about halfway to Kineo. But it was getting on lunch time and two of the three didn’t pack a lunch. They decided to sail back to Kelly’s for lunch and try again after. In recent years we have made two runs a day to Kineo: we had become complacent and cocky.

The downwind romp was extremely fast, and as all the pressure ridge crossings were tight and marked there was no need to stop.

After lunch Guiness dropped out and Fortier signed up. Dave asked where we were going. The answer: upwind!

At the second crossing the Whizz crossed first, sailing over and then stopped to be sure Dave crossed at the right spot. But the big boats had broken up the slush ice that had sealed the opening. They had to get them back instead of bringing Dave over.

The holes were packed with chunks of ice and the Whizz carefully back up and over. Pressure ridges are always changing even when they appear to be static. What was good to go and hour ago might eat your runner now.

There was still Moose Bay to explore, and the grand house of Bob Bartlett, maker of the super fine Rusticator Rum, to visit. Sadly, Bob wasn’t there but we send him greetings.

Not wanting to home yet, the intrepid little fleet made their was down to Greenville proper. As far as we know, it’s the first visit by iceboats to downtown in recent memory.

They short tacked back up the narrow channel back to the main body of the lake and after a few more screaming reaches and a chat with the ice fishermen called it a day. And what a day.