A brief warm up curtailed my ice
fishing efforts until a week ago Sunday. It was a sunny cold day and I had been
cooped up in the cabin long enough. I was itching to get in at least a couple
of hours, resting my behind on a bucket. The ice was much different from the
last that I had sat upon. It had been broken and splintered into large chunks
that lay strewn across the shore. A new episode of cold had cemented the old
ice with a new layer which was black and clear.
There was very little snow on the
surface, so the ice cleats came in handy. I carefully chose my steps. I crossed
a series of heaved up ice burgs using my auger for stability. A stinging wind
took to my face like lint to static. I could feel the redness replace my
otherwise peaked winter face. Black ice is actually clear, very clear in fact.
Walking across it is like traveling in a glass bottomed boat. I could see weeds
frozen and suspended below me. It can be an unnerving experience as you feel
like there is nothing between you and the bottom.
I ended up on a spot where there was
some remaining snow. I felt much more comfortable there, not seeing the bottom.
A little snow helps to keep the bucket in place and I like it for coating any
fish that I may catch. When the wind is strong it will dry them out and freeze
a fish quickly. It turns out that that was not going to be a problem. I sat for
two hours (jigging) and even switched rods with out so much as a bump from
below. Yes I got skunked, not a fish, not even a tiny one.
Monday morning the wind was blowing
and the cold continued. The River was iced to and beyond Carleton Island. It
had had time to grow and was getting close to a foot in thickness. I was
getting excited about finally getting to walk on the River. Then Wednesday came
and 50 degree weather. I went down to my dock to see how the ice was faring. It
had become clear and there were small pockets of water purging through a few
cracks. I did not see how any wind would be able to dislodge that large new
piece of real estate. It should make it through the heat wave, I was sure…
Thursday morning on the last day of
January the River was roaring. There was not a bit of ice left from the
expansive flat surface that existed the day before. Oh what a wind, I seldom
have seen the river with waves that rival those of lake Ontario. It blew in
from the west, mean, nasty and vengeful. As the white caps tumbled to a crest
the sunlight of the morning ignited the mist. I watched as tiny rainbows, prisms
of light cast across the surface like halos. The waves on the River carried
waves of color like a crown, it was amazing!
Friday February 1st, I
looked out to see that the wind had stalled and dispersed over night, leaving a
new layer of ice under construction. The large expanse between my place and
Carleton was attempting to weld the two shore lines together with a solid
surface. What a difference a day can make. I am left scratching my head, got
ice, no ice, oh wait there is ice. So far, the up coming forecast is in my
favor for some ice fishing this week, so far.
My Bride and I went up to Alexandria
Bay yesterday for breakfast and to stock up on steaks. Along the way I noticed
some ‘vintage snowmobile’ signs along the road. I thought that it had been the
previous weekend for (some reason) and I got excited. “Oh we have to go down
town and take a walk; I’d like to see this.” “You go right ahead; I’ll stay in
the car and keep it warm for you while go watch your breath.” My gal has got to
be the most thoughtful creature on earth, always looking out for me.
I seldom leave my camera at home and
I sure did regret it yesterday. I saw some sweet old sleds that brought back
many memories. Tiny sleds for kids, with engines from 16cc to five horse power.
Early snow machines painted red and looking like new. Single cylinder late
sixties ski-doo’s that I remember the intake sucking my scarf into. There were Sno-jets,
Moto skis, Polaris and Arctic cats. I saw a couple of Chaparrals and one Massey
Ferguson ‘Ski-wiz’. The best and worst part was one owner attempting to start
his sled, pulling and pulling on the recoil rope. Oh, that sound and struggle I
remember well. My shoulder hurt from just watching him.
I think that he put thirty strokes
into his effort before the ancient temperamental machine succumbed. Blue/ white
smoke puffed out with each ping of the two cycle engine. I remember a time when
that aroma filled the air all winter long. He revved the engine to warm it and
the sound was something that I had forgotten, it was damn loud! No wonder I
have lost my higher pitch hearing. But back to the memories, I never had a sled
but my neighbors on all sides did. On weekends waves of the ‘snow machines’
would pass by the house. They traveled the fields, zipped down the road
shoulders, and traversed the railroad tracks.
As I said they were loud and I could
hear them coming long before I could see any. The ones in the fields were the
most fun to watch. Each one had a single dim lamp on the front cowl that bobbed
across the drifts like a horseman carrying a lantern. I watched them through
wavy window panes that were a century old. Often a caravan of twenty sleds
followed one another, over drifts and through an orchard like a long winter
snake. I am pleased to see that some of those original machines have survived.
This was the first event for them in the Bay and I hope it is able to continue
to grow. I will remember my camera and the date next year!
This morning I went with a friend to
join the folks from TILT (Thousand Island Land Trust) on an eagle watch over to
Wellesley Island. We arrived early and my partner saw the first eagle of the
day. It flew onto a tree to roost, overlooking a small Island with a red cabin
on it. We were off to a good start! The sun was out though; at times it was
under the cover of light misty clouds.
We were joined by a surprisingly
large number of fellow enthusiasts. Our names were taken by Corrine Mockler of
the TILT staff to make sure all who signed up were accounted for. The chariot
provided was a hay wagon loaded with bales of fragrant hay. Binoculars and
blankets were also available for those who needed them. An Ornithologist named Gerry
Smith provided us with (his) fifty plus years of birding experience. He gave us
insights on how to identify juvenile eagles from the mature and the rarely seen
Golden eagle.
There were a number of stops where we
delighted in seeing some individual eagles. Some of them were on roost while
others were in flight, one even landed onto the frozen River surface. Our driver
and host Jake Tibbles joined Gerry in explaining the importance of preserving
large tracts of undeveloped land. I found out that TILT also has some large
parcels on the lesser known islands. Each uniquely formed and preserved area
provides a traditional habitat for all that is wild. How refreshing to see an
entity of private influence protecting the Rivers ecosystem through sound
property management.
I met some new people on the
adventure and had a relaxing time while we all enjoyed the outdoors. A very
nice couple even invited the wagon load of hay and snow covered strangers into
their home. Mr. and Mrs. Smith had a house full of bird watchers, who were
extremely grateful to share both their heat and the splendid view on the River.
Our group enjoyed watching a mature eagle go to roost, swans, various ducks and
a number of eagle fly-bys. I was so grateful to our hosts that I even shared
some of my dried apple chips with them. One of my new acquaintances commented
on how nice it must be to live on the River year round. I cocked an eyebrow and
with a smile said; “You wouldn’t like it, it’s boring, there is hardly ever
anything to do.” That’s funny she said; “It seems to me that some ‘guy’ often
writes in the T.I. Sun about just how marvelous it is to live on the River all
year.” Humm…
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