Chickawaukie Ice Boat Club

The Palmer Boat Company, on Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, was a premier builder of scows, yachts and iceboats. In 1938 they build a long tandem called LINGWES for Edward C. Fiedler. She was of the finest materials with custom aluminum castings throughout. The sideboards were 1×12 x 24′ long of aircraft spruce, an actual lumber designation in those days of wooden airplanes. The spruce in the hollow plank and mast were of similar quality.

She came east at some point and was raced successfully for a time by Dick Moeller. We loose track of her for a while until she turns up in New Hampshire under the ownership of Denis O’Brian in the late nineties. According to Mr. O’Brian’s papers, he is new to iceboating and tries to reach out to the iceboating world to find people to sail with. We’re unsure how successful he was, as all the photos he shows are of him sailing alone on a small lake. Today he is 89 years old, a mere decade older than LINGWES herself, and the iceboat isn’t in much better shape than the man. But he wanted to be sure she found a good home, so he called the NEIYA and vice commodore John Stanton agreed to arrange to accept LINGWES as a contribution to the club.

John called to see if I’d be willing to take on the restoration. I’d seen her advertised recently, as probably most of us who follow the iceboat classifieds have, and have been smitten with her. Needless to say, I had the trailer hooked up and was on the road to Hanover the next day. She lay in a garage behind a rental house, sitting on a trailer who’s wheels has become one with the ground. She was in much worse shape than the photos indicated. But every detail was exquisite, if a bit punky. The long nose was one with the art deco style of the 30’s, more like a streamliner locomotive nose than an iceboat bow. The coamings were perfect ellipses of steam bent spruce. The deck veneer was not only bookmatched, but quarter matched as well. The long tapering stern seemed to go on forever.

Recovering from my reverie, we picked up the fuselage and set in on the trailer with a devastating crunching sound. Peeking underneath I saw that the bottom was completely delaminated and the 3/8 ply was hanging on by just a few rusty screws.

Most runner planks of boats this vintage tend to be brutally heavy. When we lifted this one, however, it nearly lept into the air all by itself. It’s 3x 14x 16′ and one guy can easily move it around because all spruce and it’s hollow. It also has that lovely reverse curve at the ends like most well made planks of the era. The cast aluminum chocks are absolutely sublime; without doubt the most beautiful chocks I’ve ever seen. Many thanks to Brian Langley for doing an excellent powder coating job on all the cast aluminum parts!

Now, with new bottom, fresh varnish throughout, new upholstery, runners sharpened, profiled and aligned, and the new sail fresh from Henry Bossett it was time to put here through the paces on Plymouth Pond. David Jones was there with the Ray Ruge Hagarty, Jim Gagnon with Gee Whizz, and Guy, Doug Raymond and Fortier with DN’s. The wind was splendid, so we set up marks and a big boat start first, followed by the DN’s. Lingwes held her own against the other Skeeters, even winning one lap. But even though she didn’t bring home the gold she felt strong and able, hiking calmly and comfortably.

Forgive me if this post is somewhat Palmer-centric, but the goal of the project has been to find some one to act as caretaker for the boat, providing her a good home and frequent outings on the ice. She is on a trailer ready to go for a Very Reasonable price to the right person. She even comes with a copy of Gardiner’s Wings On Ice, from 1938, in which Lingwes is featured. And about the meaning of the name? No one knows for sure, but a bit of Googling indicates it means Bobcat in an Italian dialect.

Looks like a mixed bag of weather for the next two days. Snow will turn to rain south of a line somewhere. That’s where we’ll find our next ice.

Some say four and some say seven
a perfect hell or almost heaven

we duke it out our fists are raised
we’re quick to damn and slow to praise

but i’ve never glimpsed the grading book
if you can sail by hook or crook

i’ll give her seven which says “let’s go!”
leave those screens that hold us so

our time on planet earth ain’t long
and every year some friends have gone.

let’s sail away our precious time
on scabs and slush and snowy grime

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 no longer care for grades and numbers
but thank our stars, forgive our blunders

and wonder how, as the runners hiss
that fleeting life should give us this!

Entire plate has over four inches; the rose colored glasses have been removed and the grade has been reduced to four. We skated most of it and it was ok, sailing was fine. The wind held nicely until dusk. There is some slushy bits and some shell ice near the pit area, but nothing to worry about in the main body.

The parking area is not plowed, but we drove it right down flat today so access is pretty good.

Wind forecast isn’t great for tomorrow, but Sunday looks better. If the snow misses us Monday, Wednesday promises great wind. But we might find some black ice by then.

Jim got to shake down his new Whizz for the first time with full sail and had her wound up beautiful. We poked around the marshes at the south end on some remarkably poor ice, just maintaining steerage way. You CAN have fun in an iceboat at walking speeds!

Dave Godine and Jory scouted the Pond today and found some shell ice, orange peel surface about 7, and over three inches of ice. We are going back tomorrow with boats and enough time to thoroughly check the plate. Forecast for the weekend looks great, if a bit light in the wind. Complete ice report tomorrow.

Even with snow in the overnight forecast, Jim and I decided to head to Canada anyway. The reports of five inches of nicely surfaced ice was too good to pass up. And the wind was supposed to be strong SW, blowing right up the middle of Lac Abenakis, the “big” lake in the village of Ste. Aurelie. A big surprise on the ride through Jackman was the view of Wood and Attean Ponds completely frozen and snow free. A drive by inspection from the center of town confirmed a plate of nice grey ice. We might have missed that one. Of course it was snowing by then and we had a hot date across the border so didn’t stop to inspect. The border was bleak, as usual, with blowing snow and grey bunkers.
But once across the border the sun came out and the snow quit. Things were looking up as we began the long climb to the high plain. Traces of snow began to show along the shoulder and in the fields. Was it old snow or new? As we approached Aurelie we saw a man shoveling his walk, and then saw the big white lake. The night before had dumped just under an inch of dry power. But the wind was about fifteen, so we scouted the plate and set up.

The access was carry on, but the Whizz is an easy lug for two guys. Jim was taking his new boat for its maiden sail. Soon Jacques Charbineau and Claude Morin showed up and, as DN guys will do, immediately set up marks. Jim was starting out slowly with a storm sail, but Whizzard and Whizzper duked it out neck and neck for a couple of dozen laps. It’s remarkable how competitive these boats are; we were side by side at nearly every mark rounding, over and over. We finally had to quit out of sheer exhaustion, so eased sheets and jogged quietly along the shoreline, admiring the creativity people put into their summer cabins, all gingerbread and curlycues.

Alas, the forecast called for no wind the next day (today), the snow had become sticky in the warming temps, and the little B&B La Morillion was closed. Three strikes and we headed for home, a mere four hours away. Thankfully it was mostly downhill back to the coast, and aside from the moose lurking in the shadows, there’s not much traffic in that part of Maine.

You know you’ve put in a good day on the ice when you find your gloves locked in. Now where’s that key? Ah, the warm feeling of a well earned fatigue.