January 24, 1985 - On lceboatingJanuary 24, 1985
On lceboati'ng
By PAUL STOUTENBURGH
I'll bet some of you, like myself, are
saying, "This weather reminds me of
the old winters we used to have." I can
remember as a kid it seemed all winter
our bay was frozen over and the fields
were white with snow.
The frozen bay was the reason a
school chum and I got our first experi-
ence on an iceboat his dad had built.
Using old sails from a sailboat and
heavy two -by -fours for the frame, a
monster, weighing much more than the
sleek boats of today, was ours to use.
The ice we used was, of course, the salt
water of our creeks and bay. The winds
that howl out of the north gave the sur-
face a rippled effect instead of the glassy
smooth surface most associate with
skating.
It was getting toward dark when we
first got the old grey canvas sails up
and tried the ark out on the creek ice.
Nevertheless it gave us time to get a
feel for iceboating, and once you've been
iceboating, the thrill of it never seems
to leave. It was dark when we headed
home shivering because of our in-
adequate clothing. Our spirits were
high, and after dinner we talked over
the idea of trying it again in a much
more grandiose style.
The excitement of a new experience
bubbled within us as we hauled the old
boat over to the bay where we'd have
the whole sweep of this mighty expanse
of ice to travel across. It was a cloudy
night and as black as the inside of a tar
barrel, but nothing seemed to matter to
young boys excited about a new adven-
ture.
Well Prepared
This time we had doubled our cloth-
ing layers: long johns, woolen socks,
hats, gloves, and my most important
sheepskin jacket, which seemed to keep
the cold out in any weather. The bay
along the shore was protected by the
northwest winds howling in the trees
above.
Sails were put up. Each took his place
on the big flat platform and we started
to rumble slowly out onto the bay ice.
We felt quite confident in our warm
clothes and relatively quiet ride. Only
the rumbling of the runners could be
heard. But as we got out into the bay,
we started to feel the real fury of the
wind we'd heard in the trees. One has
to experience iceboating to know what
a gust of wind will do and the exhilira-
tion one feels as the boat shoots ahead.
We were now hanging on for dear life!
We had never experienced anything
like this. Wind flapping the sails; run-
ners bouncing along the rough ice, and
darkness all about.
On we sped. Each foot bringing us
further into the fury of the wind. We
couldn't turn back; we were traveling
too fast. We just hung on, each, of us
I'm sure, saying his own silent prayer.
What had we gotten into?
The wind seemed to have turned into
a gale, and no one was around except
the two of us screaming across the bay.
Once a gust lifted the windward runner
right off the ice and dropped it down
again, shattering us a little more into
the realization we had bitten off more
than we could chew.
I'm afraid the two boys of the world
were in a situation with which they
couldn't cope. The wind took advantage
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of us and blew all the harder. Then up
we went again, but this time the gust
never ceased and we went right on over!
Spinning across the ice, trying to right
myself, I finally came to a halt, a little
bruised but more embarrassed. A sha-
ken holler through the darkness and a
voice responded equally as shaken as
mine.
I can't remember deciding what to do
but I do remember righting the iceboat
on its runners, taking down the sails
and -- without much conversation --
walking it back to land. We had had
enough excitement for one night. The
next day we'd be back to pick the boat
up.
Sure enough, the sun sparkled on the
bright ice the next day and for some
reason we couldn't quite think things
were as bad as they had been. Yet when
we looked across to the west there was
a tongue of open water that had been
left by the current from Wickham's
Creek. We had tipped over just before
that open water. We looked at each
other and decided that perhaps iceboat-
ing in the creek would be better than
on the bay. It was remarkable how eas-
ily that decision was made.
Times Have Changed
Yes, those days did seem colder and
snowier than they do today. Often we'd
wait a day or so before a snow plow got
around to clearing our roads, and that's
all they would do. I can't remember any
sand or salt being placed on the roads
in those early days. As a matter of fact,
the old Dodge with the wooden steering
wheel used to tow us on our sleds on
those snowy roads. In those days there
was no one else down our way and it
was perfectly safe. I bet others can re-
member doing this. Whenever we did
it at night and the runners of the sleigh
hit an open spot, sparks would fly from
the runners. Funny how you remember
those things.
Night sledding on our favorite hill
used to be one of the big pastimes, and
on a moonlit night we'd spend hours
walking up and sliding down. We had
to make our fun with what was availa-
ble; ice skating and sleigh riding were
always number one.
Today, I'm afraid, we've lost much of
this due to a modern world and other
more easily available activities. In
those days it was nothing to be snowed
in. You just waited until the plow came
and then you'd get out. Should you miss
a day's work, the boss would understand
and often say, "Take it easy and don't
take any chances." We lived a more re-
laxed life then, and things didn't always
seem to be in a crisis. That's one of the
nice parts of being retired; you can
pretty well get back into that world of
not having to meet schedules.
Barbara and I often look forward to
a snowy or rainy day. It's a day to do
odd jobs around the house, get caught
up on paper work or just sit around by
the window and read. We finally realize
that our life is the only one we're going
to have here on earth and unless we
start doing some of the things we want
we might just wind up at the end with-
out doing any of them. It's good to stop
and look back once in a while and check
the direction the ice boat is going and
not be caught by the winds of fate.
Page 15
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
ICEBOATING - -The iceboats seen here on the East End do not belong
to any particular design, rather they are the products of home design.
This particular one is seen skimming over Lake Marratooka.
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