I never did get that last canoe ride in 2003.
I woke up one Monday morning to find that 90 per cent of our
lake had frozen over. I couldn't get to the 10 per cent that
still had water because the new ice was too thin to drag a
canoe.
So I just watched for the next six days while
the last few holes in the lake froze over.
Knowing when the lake freezes over completely
and realizing how thick the ice has become are crucial to
knowing when it is safe to be on the lake for winter.
We are very lucky that our lake has no
currents. Once the ice comes, it stays.
First thing I did each morning was to climb
the ladder outside the cabin to get a better perspective on the
lake.
Scanning with binoculars, I could see the
extent of the open water, and note if it had shrunk from the
day before.
For four days there was no change. On the
fifth day, a huge mist rose from the water. This was a good
sign. On the sixth day, I could only see black. It was time to
take a walk out to have a better look.
The first half kilometre of ice was so thick
I couldn't even make it crack when I pounded it with the end of
my
long pole. That ice was 10 days old. Beyond
that, the ice had only been around for five or six days. After
pounding a few times, the pole would poke a hole right through.
I reached in with my fingers to measure nearly
three inches of ice.
When I got to the edge of the newest ice, it
took only one whack with my pole to poke a hole. Less than an
inch. I didn't walk there.
Instead, I walked further out on the older
ice until I got to the end of our bay.
From the lake surface, all I could see in the
distance to north and south was ice, ice, ice.
But I wanted to be sure, so I climbed the
hill at the end of the bay, then climbed a white pine at the
top of the hill.
Through the binoculars I could see most of
our long skinny lake, and as far as I could see, there was ice.
Long, jaggedy pressure ridges had formed.
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, CRACK. Quiet. Rumble,
burp, gurgle, PING. ROAR, grumble, errrack. Then silence.
I can see where legends of Loch Ness monsters
arose. It certainly sounded like some huge creatures had been
locked under the ice and were struggling to get out. The
pressure ridges rose like cracks in an eggshell - would the
monster emerge?
Viki Mather lives by a lake near
Sudbury.
