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Some days when you are enjoying your day off
with a good sleep inn and the phone rings you
never know what will become of that annoying
wake up call. Crazy Larry was having one of those
days as I rang his bell this morning. Larry is one of
those exceptions to the iceboating rule, his life
doesn’t revolve around iceboating but he really
does enjoy it when I drag him to the ice. Larry
seldom leads the pack but is always content just to
go for a ride on his Little Monsta. He is not
perturbed in the least by all of the ice crystals that
blow over him as we sail past him. More on Crazy
Larry later.
Our venue today was the previously scouted Mill
Dam. The Mill Dam lies in the booming metropolis
we call Deer Isle Village. If you take a right on rte
15a in Deer Isle and go past the two art galleries
and the library on Main street(the only street) and
you didn’t blink you will have seen all of the Village
on the right hand side of the road. Just beyond
that on the left is the Mill Dam. It is a pond of
tidal brackish water that borders NW cove and has
a causeway that separates it from NW cove. The
Mill Dam was a famous meeting place for ice
boaters before my time and I am guessing that our
gang was the first to rattle runners on this ice for
a good 50 years. The wind here is always steady
and strong. We never seem to sail this venue in
good wind. We always end up here on days we
can’t sail elsewhere. Keiko and I had coffee at the
Mill Dam this morning watching a nearby flag go
from limp to a fluttery straight position in a timed
rhythm. It was a poor hand to play but the only one
I had so I made the call and convinced Larry to
join the party.
A big thanks to Max the landowner that granted
us permission to cross his field on foot with
iceboat parts in tow. It’s a rare occasion that a
landowner will say no to an ice starved sole in
need of a fix . I do apologize for the black paint
that I left on those briar bushes as Iceaholic got
ahead of me while dragging her nose first down
the steep banking.
We rigged and sailed. The wind was light but
steady with an occasional bonus puff now and
then. We fell into formation and sailed our hearts
out. I was dusting Larry but I did notice that he
was sailing much faster than usual. If I slipped up
he would pass me. After an hour I was picking salt
water ice crystals out of my teeth and Larry looked
like he had a magic fan blowing on his sail. His
little slush runners sounded like a horse trotting
across the pond as they clip clopped over the ice.
My runners were crunching and scrunching like a
Mack truck driving over a bag of Cheetos. I was
well overdue for some payback and Crazy Larry
wasn’t letting up. Damn this saltwater ice I
thought to myself.
Any of you that follow the sailing diary have
probably picked up on the fact that I have my own
boat and shouldn’t really be using Vanessa’s boat.
A call to her this morning confirmed that she was
in Farmington with the flu and wouldn’t be coming
home to sail , so I felt like the fox in the chicken
coop with my ride. The only thing that could
compound my dusting of the day was to be caught
red handed by a girl with the flu that must have
broken a lot of speed limits to get from
Farmington and through the traffic of Deer Isle
Village during rush hour just to evict me from my
ride . Double bummer. I kept myself entertained
waving to the spectators that had gathered on the
causeway and giving informal lectures on
iceboating. Though we have been doing this for
six years, a sea gull standing on one leg gets more
media coverage than the local gang of ice boaters
so self exploitation is a must when not sailing.
Cars were stopping and cameras were clicking as
if we were aliens from the planet Zoton.
One passer by come stampeding down to the ice
with a home built Lockley Skimmer that he
recently purchased and joined in the fun. Ryan
Collins rigged his skimmer just in time to catch
the lull of the day when Crazy Larry was the only
one who could sail round and round as if being
towed by the Starship Enterprise with its cloaking
device on. Larry was just plain unstoppable and
loving it. Vanessa decided to go home and sleep
off the flu allowing me to watch over her boat for
the duration of the day. Ryan packed up his rig
shortly after. Ryan had no more than closed his
trunk when someone turned the switch on and it
was party time. It got cold dark and windy. Larry
and I sailed until we couldn’t feel our butts and
then we sailed some more. When dragging our
boats up the steep embankment to our waiting
vehicles Larry says "We should sail here more
often". I wiped the salt off my face and agreed
with a smile.

Kevin