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"WHEN THERE'S ICE..."
When there's ice and you can't kayak, the old adage comes to mind . . . "If life deals you a lemon, make lemonade." When winter comes with its freezing winds and snow, it's time to put away the kayaks and warm-weather gear. THEN comes the winter fun! If snow covers the ice, and rivers and lakes become winter wonderland, get out the cross-country skis and GO. If any doubt about ice safety, pull out the life jacket and shrug it on...it's extra warmth, and its buoyancy gives you time to haul yourself out of the ice if you should drop through (unlikely as it is when your weight is spread out over the skis). Carry two ice picks (or screwdrivers) on your sleeves for instant use if necessary...it's almost impossible to pull yourself out of the water without ice picks to hack your way up over a shelf of slippery ice. Watch the ice fishermen sitting by their holes...some of them hate free souls skiing, skating, or (horror!) iceboating near them. Ice fishermen in a crowd on some lakes do not think to leave clear lanes down the middle of the lakes or wide rivers, without police supervision. Oh no, for them "ice is only for ice fishing". Anyhow, if you ski on snow-covered ice, ENJOY striding smoothly, mile after mile on the snowy, flat ponds, lakes and rivers.... And when wind and rain change lakes and rivers to miles of clear ice, WOW, it's ICEBOAT TIME. I have three simple 10'x5' iceboats that I dust off, sharpen the blades, renew the sails and rigging, and throw on the pickup truck. Then I call the grandchildren, pick them up, and we GO. With a 20mph wind, the little iceboats GO 50-60mph, zip, WHEE! However, with no wind or with crusty snow still on the ice, FUHGEDDABOUTIT. Also, sailboats of any kind are notorious when there's no wind. Come to think of it, iceboats are notorious as far as ice fishermen are concerned...a 50mph iceboat screaming by without brakes chills the blood even more. Question comes to mind...I really don't know if the screaming comes from the iceboat or the ice fishermen.... Speaking of iceboat brakes, there are many kinds evolved over the ages, especially by Dutch speedsters. For me, the simplest means of stopping my little 10'x5' iceboats is to let go of the sail boom and roll over to slide onto the ice from my lying-down position while gripping the line around perimeter. Within a few feet, the iceboat spins to a stop, spilling the wind and skidding dead still, sail indicating wind direction like a weathervane. With this size iceboat (iceboard?) it's like skidding a sled and rolling off to avoid a tree. Controlling this iceboat (practically a sailboard) is good when lying down with feet nudging the skate-rudder, and arm on the boom fine-tuning the sail-angle for both speed and direction. Cost is low compared to professionally-made iceboat prices - under $50 total materials including cast-off skates from the local Thrift Shop (as compared to thousands of dollars for a real professional job). For construction plans, e-mail prdrumm@gmail.com My oldest granddaughter is now 18 and in college. Despite recent warm winters, she wouldn't let me junk the iceboats, insisting the next winter might be cold enough. She's never forgotten zipping back and forth holding the mast and leaning far out on the turns, eyes twinkling with glee as we built up speed on the straightaways . . . she was only 8. Still has the 8x10 picture of her on the iceboat. Now THIS is the winter to GO! After ten years of storage in the damp basement, the three iceboats needed to be cleaned up, skates sharpened after scouring off accumulated rust, all ropes tightened or replaced, mast and sail re-mounted, rudder (lazy-susan turntable) checked and oiled. No big deal, and a pleasure to remember the designing, cutting the materials, bolting firmly, screwing eyebolts for rope attachments, procuring old ice skates for practically nothing from local thrift shops (nobody skates any more in big cities and you can even get skiis the same way), and finally the painting. Of course, you start one iceboat at a time, the best-looking one first, getting it into shape and testing it as soon as weather/ice permits. So when ready, call up whoever is eager to go and available (it is NOT a good idea to go alone on water OR ice). Sarah fortunately had a day of from college and I picked her up to go to the nearest lake, Musconetcong, a round lake about 3 miles in diameter, perfect for testing small iceboats except for so many ice fishermen yanking up bass spoiled by a summer of catch-and-release. We headed for Netcong exit on Rt 80, remembering one perfect day of iceboating so many years ago. But when we turned into the Musconetcong Lake parking area, we saw the previous week's snow had hardened on the ice instead of blowing clear, and NO WAY was there clear skating. We did see "skating rinks" made by teenagers shoveling off the snow on the ice by their family home backyards. THEY know what to do with ice and snow! Sarah and I retreated to Rosie's Restaurant for late breakfast and discussion of what to do, surrounded by local regulars and many, many ice fishermen on "warm-up break". Then we drove over to Lake Hopatcong to see if divers had found the body of the snowmobiler who, after a day of snowmobiling the lake with a friend, inexplicably started back over the ice from the far shore AT NIGHT ALONE without a lifejacket. When the friend did not see him later, the alarm was raised. By then it was too late, and days later it was theorized that the lone snowmobiler had dropped into an open water spot and just disappeared with no flotatation vest to pop him up to the surface for a fighting chance at survival. At this writing, I still haven't seen newspaper reports about his body being recovered.... A week later, after a few days thaw and freezing rain, I e-mailed Sarah, picked her up and we again headed for Musconetcong Lake for a final test of iceboat #1 (and to see whether the ice was smooth enough). Alas, when we pulled into the parking lot, we saw ridges of iced-snow still on the lake, and corrugated trails left by 400-lb. snowmobiles plowing through slush (also a rectangular clear spot or two indicating where something heavy had broken thru and water froze overnight). We slid about on the rugged ice and debated whether to haul iceboat #1 off the pickup truck, set it up and try sailing a somewhat clear area, just to check out the rigging one more time. After all, I had a different sail, an 11'x 6' Sevylor dagger sail made for forcing sluggish slow inflatables thru the water - only about 40 years old (well used). BUT NO WIND. UGH. We jumped back into the pickup truck, drove over to Lake Hopatcong Park. Slightly better ice there, with relatively clear areas in the distance. BUT ICE FISHERMEN ALL OVER THE ICE. The hell with it. We peeled out of there and I promptly got lost following an interestingly-named Brooklyn Mountain road that seemed like a shortcut back to Musconetcong. NO WAY. The road went this way, that way, over hill and dale, into dead ends with garage, back out onto streets with houses of all descriptions, many festooned with Christmas decorations of one or two (or three) seasons before. Somehow we wound up back by a sign - LAKE HOPATCONG PARK. A growl, a chuckle, and we headed back to Sarah's home so she could get to her college class on time, with the radio on LOUD, jiving to a syncopated beat. Miles of ice in much better condition, a few ice fishermen staying close to shore, and NO SNOWMOBILES. Signs at park headquarters proclaimed this to be a sailboarding area, with rules of "right of way" that evoked mental pictures of crowds of sailboarders during the summer. Andy and I looked at each other with the same thought in mind - "sailboards? How about ICE SAILBOARDS?" Rosalee groaned, mentally picturing her 72-year-old husband screaming across the ice under billowing sail, trying to keep up with indestructible kids.15-year-old Andy, an avid skateboarder used to "360's on halfpipes", just grinned in anticipation. THEN we saw a lone iceboater flashing by on a small sleek professional job with semi-rigid plastic sail shaped like a vertical airplane wing generating high speed with the least wind. Even the cockpit was shaped like a plane fuselage while the helmeted, bearded and goggled pilot was hunched over the steering wheel. THAT DID IT. WE'RE GOING ICEBOATING. The next Saturday dawned cold, clear and WINDY. Andy was available, and we drove out and unloaded iceboat #1 onto the shore by (and out of the way of) Spruce Run's boat ramps. Iceboats are made to assemble and dismantle quickly. The professional jobs even have wheels for dry-land sailing. Those have to be replaced with skates when on ice. Sometimes they take almost an hour to assemble, make all adjustments with the wind whipping at the sail, and GO. Dismantling to repack into the truck or van can take another hour. My self-designed and built iceboats take five minutes to put up the mast, snap on the bowline mast rope, and GO. Equally easy to unsnap the bowline, drop the mast and STOW. In frigid weather ideal for iceboating, frequent bathroom or warmup/food breaks are necessary. At Spruce Run, Park Rangers drive by often, checking to make sure all ice fishermen have the licenses and iceboaters are helmeted, responsible, and not alone in case of emergency. The Park Ranger who stopped by while Andy and I were setting up our much simpler iceboat was interested in how it was made, with mast that pops up and snaps in place even in a howling wind (and quick-release to unsnap and quickly lower the sail and furl it to repack on the pickup truck in five minutes). In minutes, Andy was off and almost out of sight while we chuckled at the impatience of youth. Andy had never iceboated before! When I caught up to him, I could see the mast was loose and floppy. The ropes were not holding. Indeed, they soon broke. This test was uncovering serious problems. Not only did I have to replace all the ropes (rigging) with stronger, thicker ropes and chrome steel rings and toggle snaps for quick assembly, adjustment and quick-release while on the ice with wind howling, but the mast had to be changed from dagger (slanted) to rigid vertical position, like the professional jobs we could see flashing by us, up, down, and across the ice, in perfect control. Professionally-made iceboats have quite heavy masts for their size, with steel supporting cables, and triple pulleys to hold the sail boom tightly to minimum angle. Very slight adjustments to rudder and sail angles make an enormous difference to "holding the wind" and generating enormous speed. The vertical "wing" leading edge (mast) has to be rigidly straight. As you will see, it took me two more hour-long trips to Spruce Run, and even more hours-long iceboating trials to realize this as an indisputable fact, and DO THE JOB RIGHT. I was not about to go out and buy a large, heavy, expensive windsurfing sail, which can be made to fit beautifully on a small iceboat, although if I already had a sailboard, I'd consider adapting it for winter use. Hell of a lot faster on ice! Not so wet either. Andy was a good sport, and cheerfully helped me repack iceboat #1. We discussed the test over a good lunch on the way home, and talked about how few people realize a sloop sail is actually a vertical "airplane wing" that generates "lift" on the curved side to increase speed to well beyond the actual wind speed. This actually enables coming back on the same wind that drove the iceboat in one direction. Famed 20th century Clipper ships using multiple sloop sails developed great speeds on their world-wide journeys long before self-powered boats were invented. Andy and I made plans for the next day's outing. I promised to have iceboat #1 ready for testing, and took him home. For some reason, I needed a long nap when I got home. It was dark when I awoke, and I had to get up at dawn to change the mast position and re-rig all ropes. I picked Andy up at 9:30 a.m. on time for another day of iceboating. Again, we saw how regularly the Park Rangers drive by. They really take care of their park. The wind was lighter, the ice was still a little rough, but Andy was soon out of sight. While I was assembling and re-rigging iceboat #2, another iceboater pulled up with his van. It took him almost an hour to pull out and all assemble all components: cockpit fuselage, frame, mast, sails, etc. I noted he still had wheels on for dry-land sailing, and had to unbolt wheel assemblies and replace with skate components. His sail was at "weathervane position" and his iceboat was on wooden blocks ON THE ICE. I wondered what would hapen when the wind shifted position and started howling. HOW would he prevent the iceboat from "premature launching"? I snap together my much smaller iceboat and sail while still onshore to prevent being blown away. I realized I had a lot to learn... The sleek new iceboater was soon flashing by, controlling wind angle and speed expertly, going hither and thither at will. I looked for Andy, a tiny dot far out on the horizon, and decided to trot out on the ice to see if he needed help with tacking back against the wind. After several minutes of walking, I could see yes, indeed, he was walking back toward me, iceboat in tow. When we finally got together, I could see that the mast and sail had loosened somewhat. Not as bad as the day before, but enough to prevent tacking into the wind and picking up speed in the return direction. Plus his face was frozen! His clothes and gloves were warm enough, but he needed goggles and beard like the pros. I couldn't do anything about beard for him, but whipped out a bandanna, gave him car keys and asked him to warm up in the car while I tightened up the rigging and brought the iceboat back to the launch ramps. After tightening the rigging (and watching the sleek new icboater zip by me several times, generating speed (for him) and envy (by me), I tried tacking back (to no avail). Iceboat #1 would go only in one direction, and that wasn't back to the launching ramp. The hell with it. Again homeward bound with a cheerful Andy. And again, a long nap for some reason, while Andy spent the evening with friends at a skateboarding park, presumely doing Immelmans on the half-tube. After an early dawn re-rigging and tinkering with various adjustments and sharpenings, I picked up Sarah for the next day's iceboating, her first day of iceboating since that magic day ten years before, when she was eight and zipping up and down the ice a mile a minute, eyes gleaming, lips in a wide grin, and thumb up exultantly. The re-rigging enabled me to quick-snap the mast up into position with a single bow rope without any other adjustments. It looked straight and sail was taut, ready for the wind. BUT NO WIND. AAAAGH! Sarah and I tried our best to take advantage of light puffs of wind, laughing in anticipation when the iceboat began to slide several feet. We tried every direction, to no avail. I noticed that the old aluminum mast which I had thought was rigid, was bowing when Sarah leaned her arm on the boom to adjust tension and direction. I took pictures, the best we could do that day - a beautiful clear sunny day. We noted that experienced iceboaters knew not to come out that day. Oh, well. Again, homeward bound to rockin' music on 103.1. The next good day for iceboating didn't come until after days of rain and snow and thaw. Nights were still below freezing and ice fishermen assured me the ice was still at least a foot thick. Of course, with Spring coming, one must look for and stay away from weak spots and open water from underwater currents wherever houses/septic systems are near the water. Another man went through the ice at Lake Hopatcong, this time an 83-year old iceboater who was lucky a policeman was watching and heard his cries for help (the iceboater didn't have a lifejacket although Hopatcong law requires it). The policeman carefully (courageously!) walked out on the ice with a rope and floating backboard, and saved the iceboater (who had to be airlifted to the nearest hospital). Nothing in the news article about the iceboat itself (still at the bottom of the lake?). At least at Spruce Run Reservoir there are no houses/septic systems, although there's open water and suspiciously yellow-stained ice onshore by the public restrooms. Iceboaters and fishermen must avoid falling in except on dry-land "bathroom breaks". Spruce Run is a reservoir with high standards although their incinerator is so smoky I excitedly reported a fire in a Park building, to the nearest policeman. That may have been a mistake . . . One day dawned clear and cold, with predicted wind 10-15 miles per hour. I e-mailed Sarah to meet me there if possible, telling her I'd be at Spruce Run boat ramp until 4:30 p.m. (optimistic, wasn't I?). Upon arrival, I threw the iceboat onto the ice, raised the mast, snapped the bowline, and waited for the wind. And waited. FINALLY a gust came - and the mast snapped, sail draping over my disgusted body. I hauled the mess onto shore behind snow-covered bushes and dashed into nearby Clinton town to find a lumber yard and get a good, rigid 11' mast (which I finally realized should have been done days ago). An hour later, mission accomplished with a 10' 1-1/2" thick oak stair rail, I removed the pieces of the 40-year-old aluminum mast (with fond memories of many sailing trips with it). The old sail had a channel sewn into it that the new mast slid into, not easily, but with perseverance and grunting. A few minutes of re-rigging with steel rings and toggle snaps added, then heaving the sail and mast firmly up, despite the tugging of the now quite-strong wind. Then back onto the ice for gleeful sailing before the wind! UH OH. By now, the sun had warmed up the surface of the ice. It doesn't take much slush to slow an iceboat - soft ice or less than 1/2" snow can ruin your day. It did mine. Back to shore in a safe spot near the launch ramps, flipping the iceboat over so the sail lay against the ground and wind wouldn't blow it away. Sarah, when she came, would see it and know I was coming back shortly. No need to unsnap the bow rope, drap the mast, furl the sail and pack it away, a five-minute job. Now for my next mistake. Remember, I'd e-mailed Sarah that I'd be at Spruce Run til 4:30 p.m. Oh well, after a long, cold morning, it's time for a bathroom break, and a sandwich from the local deli to warm up. After a delicious corned beef sandwich, I returned...to find two men wrecking the iceboat! They were twisting the crosspiece with great effort, splitting the five-foot 2x4 the long way, pulling it off the 10' mainframe. I flashed my lights to get their attention, parked several feet away, and walked calmly, non-threateningly toward them. One was a Park Ranger, one I'd not met before. He was motioning to the other man to take off, to drive his Park maintenance truck away, leaving the Park Ranger and his official car to face me. Bad enough for me to find splintered iceboat wreckage, which could happen if left unattended few minutes, but this was a Park Ranger taking responsibility! He mouthed off on "how many tickets I should get", etc., while I calmly packed up the wreckage onto my pickup truck. He said "he found abandoned property and was dismantling it". I asked how long did it have to be left before considered "abandoned", as compared to expensive iceboats he considerately left alone while wealthy owners took bathroom and deli sandwich breaks. After several minutes of his explanation, I told him not to spend time justifying why he and his accomplice "dismantled iceboat found unattended" (his words). He demanded my driver's license (although I hadn't committed a motor vehicle violation), taking several minutes filling out a report presumably covering his and his accomplice's actions. That Park Ranger Report is as of February 19, 1:30 p.m., CLIC#B11254, and was reviewed by Park Superintendent Rebecca William-Ellis (phone (908) 638-8572. See report copy below. Despite the Park Ranger's strong words, he did not give any tickets. I waited until I left the park before taking pictures of the wreckage to add to the pictures already taken of Sarah on the iceboat. Who wants to take a chance on having his camera confiscated as well as his iceboat wrecked? (copy of report to come, taking several weeks per procedure after paying fee) This was a disgusting end to this year's iceboating adventure . . . If you go iceboating, do try to avoid Park Rangers like this, and ENJOY sailing faster than the wind! Now back to kayaking. Spring is here, the iceboats are put away (Sarah still won't let me junk them), and the latest kayak is back on the pickup truck. Tomorrow I go to the Hudson River, under the George Washington Bridge for the first time this year, getting myself in shape for whitewatering the Delaware and Ramapo Rivers.
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