Chickawaukie Ice Boat Club

Two days of record warm gale winds in 50’s, both temps and speed melted inches off stolid old Chicky so that moorings put out when the ice was 4-5 inches came to the surface and the whole moored fleet ended up on the beach.
Two hours later all were remoored, some covers rewrapped, and order was restored thanks to yeoman labor by John Eastman who ended the exercise by stepping in a drain hole and getting more soaked than he had been from rain and sweat.
A few large drain holes persist (1/2 inch ice cover Fri AM) around the mooring and beach area. the gale Southerly winds drove the melt and rain water down the lake to do the holes, fishing holes out to 2 feet! All should be healed Saturday or marked. much of the rest of the lake was scouted Fri before breakfast and NW winds. A lot of the lovely ice in Eastern portions is marred by scars of healing puddles leaving varying washboard too rough to skate on, rattly for ice boats with intervening patches of velvety 10 grade ice. The surface improves toward the Western sheltered parts of the lake and the Southern bay, nice stuff.
There will be a Winter Carnival at the public beach this weekend, launch your ice boats at Lloyd’s beach at other end, 140 Porter St.

The lead ballast does work, however structural stresses will increase proportionately, beware of too much of a good thing. I thought the Gambit sail on the Super DN was the nuts for cleaving through snow drifts, until the fuselage broke.

It’s a dillemma: gain weight personally, or ballast the boat….Many of us are finding that, when the winds are moderate to strong, 20-40 lbs of lead transform our skittish thoroughbreads into calmer steeds, and boost our confidence in pulling the sheet that last little bit.

if you don’t plan to gain seasonal weight during the iceboat season, scour the house for weighty objects: old roofing lead, lead shot, maul heads, dumbell weights, etc. Load them on a scale until you reach the desired weight. I made two 20 pound packets, for balanced carrying. Then arrange the weight into a convenient size, pounding the lead with a rubber hammer over an anvil.

lay the weight assemblage over a folded piece of heavy canvas, and cut the latter to size. cut two hand holes in the open ends, and sew up the sides doubly with a hefty sewing machine. Turn the pouch inside out and fill carefully with the weighs. Then supporting the packet with one hand so it doesn’t bind the sewing machine, doubly sew the pouch closed both above and below the handle holes.

then find homes for the packets on the iceboat. confine them sideways with fiddles, and secure them down with a web strap and buckle. moderate wind = one packet; heavy wind = two packets if you’re tempted to forego this step, watch:

(thanks Bunting for this)

Notice that when the DN drops a runner in open water, how the broken plank and sharp runner fly high thru the air towards the cameraman! this could be your ballast.

and of course if you’re in an official race, you’ll have to put these packets in your underwear. Ballasting a DN is illegal! i have extra lead, if you need it….jory

weatherman, weathergirl, make me some ice
with narry a wrinkle, oh wouldn’t it be nice?

for four days i cursed out your snow and your rain
and yesterday’s tropics sure was a pain

but this morning the mercury shouts 24
i’ve found all the gear, and shot out the door.

my pulse, it was touching that dangerous cliff
my breathing was shallow, and life was an if

but i got to the lake as the sun topped the trees
i saw not a puddle! got weak in the knees!

i hammered the shoreline, it was thick as could be
but 20 steps latter, what should i see?

the lake served a sandwich of water and ice
a trap for the blissful, which didn’t seem nice

in between you could skate for a week without fail
but then in an instant your head and your tail

would quickly change places, and just quick as that
a old bone or two probably break with a snap

so i sadly turned round one hundred and eighty degrees
i thought now of breakfast, i thought of my knees

and swore that tomorrow, there’s be nothing to do
but come to a lake, with a buddy or two

and life will be sweet, and our season be saved
and we’ll follow our passion to the edge of our grave