A succession of warm days, and cool nights
has made for perfect morning walks on the lake. Except for in a
few of the sheltered bays, the slush is gone. Only the hard,
clear underice remains.
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VIKI MATHER |
This morning I headed out before anyone else
was awake. With a lovely -5 temperature overnight, I could step
right off the rock onto the solid ice of the lake. For the
first time in months, I wore running shoes. It felt wonderful
to be out and about without the heavy, felt-lined boots.
The ice underfoot was coarse and crispy,
traction was excellent. I could walk freely anywhere I chose.
First I headed south, to visit a little island where a large
stick nest is tucked into a tall, gnarly white pine. I kept
watch as I approached, but I never saw any bird leaving the
island as I drew near.
Conditions being perfect as they were, I was
able to step easily from the thick ice to the shore. I walked
up a little hill to the tree, and gazed upward into the twisted
branches. Silence.
Back to the lake, I wandered north for a
time. I came to a string of little islands. Sometimes I stepped
onto the land they offered, and thought about
summer. Blueberries will greet the people who
come in July, but for now, only the bare branches reach up from
the rock.
I like to walk on the ice in April because it
keeps me in touch with the subtlety of the changes, day to day,
season to season, and year to year. I am amazed at how
different the ice is this year. The sudden freezing of the lake
one night last winter, the very low snow levels we had, the
lack of a spring snowstorm, the many, many warm and sunny days,
and paucity of spring rains have combined to create a very even
melting of the ice.
Last April was so very different. Lots of
snow created huge expanses of slush on top of the ice. In many
of those places, the clear ice melted from
underneath, leaving just the slush on top.
That was a dangerous combination.
As I walked between islands Wednesday, I
marveled at the difference. The dangerous slush pockets of a
year ago now held nearly two feet of clear, hard ice. There
don't appear to be any surprises in store this year.
The next island rose hugely ahead. I walked
along the sunny side, noticing where the beavers had been busy
clearing out the few birch trees. When I came to their house,
tucked into a sheltered little cove, I was surprised to see
cedar branches included in their feed bed. A well-packed trail
rose steeply up the hill behind their house. I stepped onto
shore and followed their path.
Little cedar stumps were everywhere, three of
four older birch trees were girdled, but not yet felled.
I carried on, along the crest of the island
until it came to a small clearing at the edge of a cliff. The
view of the unfolding morning was beautiful.
Everywhere I looked, the ice glistened in the
sun. Except for the odd place where water sparkled.
Some places along the shoreline where the sun
bears down warmest in the afternoon hours, a rim of water has
replaced the ice. I look to these openings with mixed thoughts.
Canoeing season will soon be here, but only at the expense of
the loss of these quiet morning walks.
(Precautionary note: The weather has warmed
significantly since then this was written. I do not recommend
walking on the ice any more this spring.)
Viki Mather likes by a lake near Sudbury.
