January 25, 1979 - Fun On Ice•
SECOND SECTION
Looking out of my windows into -the back
pasture with its snow- covered ground and
gray sky almost reminds,me of one of the
Currier and Ives paintings. They are
something special that one can relate to
particularly if you live in the country. To
emphasize the wintry look out my window
there was a group of kids skating on one of
the numerous frozen lot ponds that were
made when we had the heavy rains last
week.
It's easy for my mind to wander back to
when I was younger and went skating
around here: I don't ever remember the lot
ponds the way we have them today, and it
always seemed we were skating at night.
Perhaps it's a sign of the times, for in
those days daylight hours were mostly spent
doing chores like cutting wood for that big-
pot-bellied stove that dominated the center
of our living room. It was almost as big as a
52- gallon drum in size and around its edge
and top were sparkling plates of filigree. If -
you were clever enough you could always
hang up wet socks or gloves to dry on them.
It had two doors in one. The top section of
the big iron door was only opened to put in
the overnighters. They were specially big
logs that were carefully placed to fill the
stove chamber for overnight burning.
This was mbstimportant-, for if tended =
correctly all you'd have to do in the frigid
morning would be to open the draft, throw
on some dry wood, and she'd be roaring in
minutes. This for some unknown reason was
the barometer of the day, If it "took" and
heat was "coming up" things of the day
seemed to go pretty smoothly from then on -
but should the fire go out and have to be
rekindled and started in a cold house it
always seemed to have an effect on the rest
of the day.
There were always three or four spots
where we would wind up skating. One was
on the ponds on the North Fork golf course.
Of course in those days things weren't quite
so ritzy as they are now and you'd find cars
pulled up on the frozen ground around the
pond with their lights on while we skated. It
always was nice to be able to cijnge your
skates right in the car and then hobble down
to the frozen ice.
Another place was Alex's pond, which is
just before Jim Cross's Environmentals on
the way to Mattituck. This was easy to get
to, being right off the Main Road. Then it
was just an old- fashioned farm pond that
was out of the wind and always. made -good -
skating. Then, of course, there was Hum -
mel's Pond up by Horton's Point and Great
ON 2CE
S
that ancient creature has never left me.
I'm told by those who play golf today that
the snappers are still around and they are
seen occasionally digging their nest sites in
the sand traps where they lay their eggs to
be incubated-by the sun.
Ice Has Good Memories
Speaking of looking through the ice.
reminds me of another time when a group of
us were out at Montauk on some sort of
expedition that took us across a vernal pond
high up on the cliffsalong the south shore.
For some reason again I looked through the
clear ice into the water below and saw
billions of tiny daphnia swimming in their
minute world below. These tiny water fleas
are small crustaceans that bloom in our
fresh water stagnant ponds. Again, like
Pond by what is now Peconic Dunes County
Park. Many's the night we've skated on
those ponds with big fires blazing at tr
edge. Someone always had a car - mine
was
an old 1931 Model A Ford Victoria that I
bought from Mr_$asteau.ior-_the- huge --sum
of $25. It was barely in running condition but
served me until I went into the service, when
I resold it for another $25.
For some reason when skating my feet
always seemed to freeze and I never could
get them warm. Probably because I never
had a new pair of skates, but someone's
hand -me -downs that were too big or too
small.
Skating even then attracted me to the
natural world, for I remember looking
through the crystal clear ice up on the golf
course pond and seeing a huge snapping
turtle lying on the bottom. I never did know
if it was dead or alive, but the memory of
everything in the natural world, food in
some creature's chain of survival. I called
the group over and we all got down on our
hands and knees andfocused -in on the tiny, —
fascinating moving world below.
Ice- has marry good memories for me
Fresh water ice skating of course, was not
the only claim on our time but the water of
our creeks and bays, when frozen, was often
enjoyed. Salt water ice is softer and never
gave quite the glide that fresh water did. Yet
it was handy and, of course, if we happened
to get a bit of rain or melted snow on top,
then it froze and was just perfect. We not
only skated on the ice but were always
creating some new type of iceboat design.
Sometimes we'd just use a big sheet
hooked up to poles, making a kite to be used
on the bay and frozen areas of the creeks.
Other times we'd have real iceboats.
Sometimes we'd use old skate bottoms for
just old bent pipe. Fora sail, we'd go into the
garage and come up with an old one from
from another era - the boat long since gore.
Some of the boats I remember were gaff -
rigged. -
I'll never forget the boat that Herm
Moeller and I made over in Fleets Neck. We
took it around to the bay for its "maiden
voyage ". It was night by the time we got
there and there was no moon, but we had to
sail. It was below freezing with a high wind
out of the northwest. We started from what
we called the "Point" which is the easterly
side of Fleets Neck and all went beautifully
as we sailed toward New Suffolk in the lee of
the land...then it happened!
A Close Call
We got away from the lee of the land off
Fleets Neck and out into the unprotected
area. The wind was barreling down across
Wickham's open fields, across the marsh
and out into the bay where it struck our
magnificent ship and- promptly flipped it
over with us hanging on for dear life! There
was the darndest whirling, tearing,
screeching you ever heard. -I thoughrwe had -
run into a solid wall. We could hardly see
where—we—were and -were !rte a
We had broken the mast and therefore had
to leave the boat on -the ice to be retrieved in
the morning. We thought little of it and
walked back with high hopes of getting it
fixed the next day.
When we went out to collect the pieces the
following day we were startled to see our
iceboat but a few hundred feet. from open
water. Luck had been on our side. The wind
that swept down the channel had kept
Wickham's Creek open like a long tongue
out into the bay and if it wasn't for that
howling wind upsetting us we probably
would have gone right into the drink
It's things like this that give you faith in
the world and yet youth was on our side and
with little thought to the mishap we were up
and out the next day with a new mast and
new spirit sailing again on the salt water ice
of Peconic Bay.
at
ICEBOATING —Its popular sport on the end of the island
usually finds homemade rigs such as this one out on the ice. Old
sails and spars from the garage and barn come to life in this
excitin sport. Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh