Chickawaukie Ice Boat Club

This runner box was seen in the pits today at Great Pond. It was with an older boat, must have been owned by Tony at some point, but the message is priceless and a gem of pre-internet communication. Those three guys are the founders of the CIBC. We have the Linc Davis Regatta in honor of all Linc did to develop iceboating in Maine.

Warner St. Clair was Lloyd’s mentor and co-author of Think Ice, and Paul Wolter was the hard driving sailor who’s known for the line: “if we are sailing, we are racing!”

Whomever has this box, please keep it well.

DN racing at Great Pond tomorrow; the ice is still great. There has been some movement, however, and a new ridge on the upper east side.

No movement down here, though. This guy isn’t going anywhere until next spring!

Many of us were awed by the photo Lee Spiller had shared of endless smooth ice on Great Pond, Belgrade, about 10 miles north of Augusta. So I arrived there just at 9AM Wednesday not to miss a single minute. Wow! There were already 7 boats setting up, so I guess ice-hunger was abounding. I spotted Bryce setting up his Cheapskate, since the Whizz he is building was not quite ready. Then, to my surprise, there was Breck Holladay, with his freshly rebuilt Nite—both he and boat beautifully healed–after an adventure last spring. Denis had come down from Quebec to duke it out with Bill, Jim, and Curtis in the go-fast fleet. Bob MacEwen was setting up his Cheapskate, and we both shared our regret that Lloyd, alas, was not there. I was delighted to meet Bobby Abel, Frank’s brother with a second Mini-skeeter, Rolling Rock, to keep me on my mettle. Bill Bunting had brought Red Herring, his Nite, and as we released our brakes for a priliminary scouting of the ice, Dave Fortier and Jim Mathieu were arriving.
Alas, it had lightly snowed since Lee and Karin had skated the day before, but the morning wind was so strong, that, on the perfect ice, there wasn’t the slightest slow-down. We found there was about 5” of ice in the launch bay, and then 4” after an ice junction a quarter mile north, with, best of all, the snow unbonded to the ice. Soon, however, the wind built further, and sent us scurrying back to the launch for storm sails. By then the fleet had built to 11 boats and we tacked north along Hoyt Island, to a pair of markers which the go-fast fleet had already set up to mark a pressure ridge. We gathered there to consolidate the fleet, before rounding the island and heading down the main body of the lake.
I’ve written many times about how sometimes a rather routine perception somehow becomes magical:

“And now and then, we don’t know how
A magic wand descends somehow
We glide into a cosmic space
Our senses sharpen, time slows it’s pace…”

We boarded our boats, took that strong north wind on the port tack, and rounded the point at the north end of Hoyt. The sun, now ahead, was absolutely blinding. The wind had risen and was moving the snow like a white turbulent river before us, as we peeled off on wide gybes, doing our best to stay together and keep our speed down. It seemed like the beginning of creation, and we were entering a new-found, just-born world. Oh, if this could just go on forever!
Finally we came to the pressure-ridges which blocked access to the two bays to the south, and we stopped to regroup. It would be tricky to approach these hazards, lying dead downwind; so we decided this enormous plate was far big enough and we soon reached west to that welcome lunchtime lee of Hoyt’s south-facing beaches. Perhaps Bill will add the inevitable photo of the 11 boat line-up.
But a full leisurely lunch was impossible: We just wanted to do the same thing all over. We were laboratory rats helplessly hooked on pushing the food lever. So, regrouping after lunch we decided to beat up the East side of Hoyt with her twin islands, and stitch downwind again, and finally head to the pits again passing East, which is what we did. For me, being one of the slower boats, it was a deep comfort, in such vast whiteness, having so many buddies in sight. Their sight gave you a tentative confidence that this crazy activity was somehow sane.
Back at the pits, it was only 2PM. What an unpardonable sin to leave sailable ice and wind. But I had promised my bruised shoulder to make it a short one, and after some hot chocolate in the Sunset Grill, I headed home. I leaft my boat among many others for the promise of light but sailable winds on Friday. Bring on the Advil. Please, HigherPower, may I live just a few more days! Here’s the lake:
https://drive.google.com/open?id=12GMCcdyq5gVeawlvw__0y16yXPdzQZ4k&usp=sharing

The only thing I can say about yesterday is to repeat what everyone else told me over and over: that this was the best day ever, Hands Down. Amazing ice, excellent wind, the drama of blowing snow yet agin revealing the splendor beneath. It’s nice to pull up to a lake and see miles of black ice. Well, perhaps more than just nice, but when it’s covered in a thin negligee which the wind slowly removes and the secret skin revealed one patch at a time, all while flying up and down the lake with a tight group of good sailors…

It’s down there somewhere.

The blowing snow obscured the horizon and made it hard to scout the ice. We found the one big pressure ridge only at the very last minute. Thanks goodness for sharp runners. The fleet yesterday was remarkably able. Nothing broke, boats were well tuned.

This snowy patch in the lee of Hoyt Island never blew clear, but it’s a fabulous spot, with full sun and no wind. The breeze was just as forecast: 10-20 all day long.

The Eastern Lakes Regatta will be held here on Saturday and Sunday. Light air is forecast, so come with sharp runners perfectly aligned. Don’t forget the sunscreen!

Lee and Karin skated all around Hoyt Island and found the east side to be flawless, but the west side, the plate directly north from the pits, had some old pressure ridges and one water filled depression about halfway along the island.

We’ll make an effort to locate and mark these features, but you need to sit up and look out. We had a discussion on Pushaw last weekend about marks and if there was a way to define marks the same way as soft water marks insomuch as each mark displays a certain hazzard or channel location. What does it mean when you see a cone or a flag out on the ice? Do you stay away, leave it to port, starboard? We resolved that one needs to be briefed beforehand and told what the mark indicates. If you see a cone or a flag or a branch sticking up out of a hole and don’t know why it’s there then it’s incumbent upon you to stop, approach it carefully and figure it out. Usually it will become obvious.

Great day shaping up for Great Pond. Don’t worry about that little snow creeping into the forecast…

Lee Spiller is skating and scouting Great Pond as we speak. He sends this:

The ice is 6″+ and grade 10++. They launched from the boat launch, which has a thin covering of hard packed snow, and skated to Hoyt, through the straight, and headed south. There is a pressure ridge from Oak Island to the shore, which they stepped over. There is no evidence of any ridges in the north end.

There is great wind tomorrow, going light Thursday and Friday before scattered showers over the weekend. Tomorrow’s the day: seize it!

Thanks Lee and Karin!