skating on thin ice
i remember the ice on lake lefferts, thick clear ice, the color of a coke bottle, with tiny bubbles and here and there a black twig, or a leaf, suspended stationary in the frozen water. below it was green water, running to black, full of darkness and cold danger. people would wait until the ice got thick, eight or ten inches at least, before going out on it, in boots, shoes and skates. if you were one of the lucky ones, or the daring ones, to go out early, you would see the cracks, like white veins in green marble, that ran through the ice obliquely, for long distances. the ice would creak and groan as the temperature changed during the day, and now and then a new crack would run across the surface of the ice, fast from one side of the lake to the other, like cracking thunder. other times the ice would just groan, with a mournful sound that i've never heard anywhere else, except maybe in the recordings of whale songs, maybe. the ice was thick enough that the cracks weren't usually dangerous, they were just there. See also Fractology
when the lake was frozen solid, the geography of the town changed, kids who lived on the other side of the lake were suddenly practically next door neighbors. during the deep winter, the social dynamics changed, no question. there were new shortcuts available that were out of the question in the summer.
once people started using it, within a couple days most of the top surface of the ice was opaque and white, scratched and scored by the blades of a thousand skates. there was no zamboni to come out between periods and glaze the surface... the only way the glass would be restored was on a warm day, if the sun would melt it a little, then at night it would freeze up again smooth.
sometimes there would be a place were there had been a lot of bubbles on the surface, or a puddle had formed and then frozen. there would be a layer of ice the thickness of a pencil lead, with tiny little caverns underneath it, and frozen stalactites and stalagmites supporting it, and in an instant your skates would turn the smooth top layer to shards and then you could skate around on a joggle bumpy surface if you wanted to.
there were places where for some reason the ice had broken up into chunks, snow white, and the water around them had frozen, green glass. you were told to stay away from those places, but sometimes the appeal of the rumpled surface under your feet might get the best of you.
the lake is pretty large, if you skated the perimeter it'd be a couple miles, and there was a highway bridge crossing in one place. there were strong currents there, and if there was ice under the bridge it was usually pretty thin, stay away. there were places where there was a current, or shallow water, and the ice didn't freeze. people didn't wear helmets when skating either.
the hockey players would usually try to shovel or sweep some snow around an area to make a rink, but inevitably somebody would take a slap shot that went bouncing and skittering it would seem like forever before stopping. sometimes a skater would kick the puck back to the hockey player whose turn it was to chase it down and bring it back.
one year the citizens got together and built a gazebo out in the lake, not too close to shore, an eight sided pagoda built on stilts with a fireplace in the center and benches around the perimeter. the floor was maybe a foot or two above the ice. you could go out there and change into your skates and leave your shoes there, or you could come in and warm up for a while if you needed to. because there were poles supporting the gazebo, as the ice moved it would crush the ice near the poles, and water would well up from below around them. little kids would always be poking and chipping at the fascinting junction between water and wood, between liquid and solid. under the center of the gazebo the fire would sometimes melt the ice a little bit, and around the edges, dripping melt from the eaves would perforate the ice all around the it, and then freeze, so usually your first few strides were the most treacherous, the ice was lumpy and not as reliable as it was on the rest of the surface of the lake.
skating out on the smooth horizontal white surface of that lake you could be free, you could almost fly, your legs driving you with the wind, on and on under the blueing sky
when the lake was frozen solid, the geography of the town changed, kids who lived on the other side of the lake were suddenly practically next door neighbors. during the deep winter, the social dynamics changed, no question. there were new shortcuts available that were out of the question in the summer.
once people started using it, within a couple days most of the top surface of the ice was opaque and white, scratched and scored by the blades of a thousand skates. there was no zamboni to come out between periods and glaze the surface... the only way the glass would be restored was on a warm day, if the sun would melt it a little, then at night it would freeze up again smooth.
sometimes there would be a place were there had been a lot of bubbles on the surface, or a puddle had formed and then frozen. there would be a layer of ice the thickness of a pencil lead, with tiny little caverns underneath it, and frozen stalactites and stalagmites supporting it, and in an instant your skates would turn the smooth top layer to shards and then you could skate around on a joggle bumpy surface if you wanted to.
there were places where for some reason the ice had broken up into chunks, snow white, and the water around them had frozen, green glass. you were told to stay away from those places, but sometimes the appeal of the rumpled surface under your feet might get the best of you.
the lake is pretty large, if you skated the perimeter it'd be a couple miles, and there was a highway bridge crossing in one place. there were strong currents there, and if there was ice under the bridge it was usually pretty thin, stay away. there were places where there was a current, or shallow water, and the ice didn't freeze. people didn't wear helmets when skating either.
the hockey players would usually try to shovel or sweep some snow around an area to make a rink, but inevitably somebody would take a slap shot that went bouncing and skittering it would seem like forever before stopping. sometimes a skater would kick the puck back to the hockey player whose turn it was to chase it down and bring it back.
one year the citizens got together and built a gazebo out in the lake, not too close to shore, an eight sided pagoda built on stilts with a fireplace in the center and benches around the perimeter. the floor was maybe a foot or two above the ice. you could go out there and change into your skates and leave your shoes there, or you could come in and warm up for a while if you needed to. because there were poles supporting the gazebo, as the ice moved it would crush the ice near the poles, and water would well up from below around them. little kids would always be poking and chipping at the fascinting junction between water and wood, between liquid and solid. under the center of the gazebo the fire would sometimes melt the ice a little bit, and around the edges, dripping melt from the eaves would perforate the ice all around the it, and then freeze, so usually your first few strides were the most treacherous, the ice was lumpy and not as reliable as it was on the rest of the surface of the lake.
skating out on the smooth horizontal white surface of that lake you could be free, you could almost fly, your legs driving you with the wind, on and on under the blueing sky
posted by ember at 2:56 PM
