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We gathered on the ice this Saturday with somber
faces as the bright sun made rigging the boats
uncomfortable with full iceboating attire on.
Jackets, hats and gloves were coming off and
complaints of it being hot were muttered by ice
boaters that knew they would be witness to the
funeral of this piece of ice before days end.
Larry was sporting a new folding chair this
morning. I think it could have doubled as a camera
tripod for my boat, but Larry wanted no part of
that idea. Since Larry never reads the sailing diary
he knows not of the sailing he is missing out on. It
only took a short phone conversation and the
offering of Iceaholic to coax him to the ice.

I made my vows to sail the wing this day and give
it the time it was due. Knowing it was going to be a
push, run, jump and ride kind of day I grabbed a
piece of plywood and some screws to spruce up the
cockpit bottom of Yellow Fever. No Bob Villa
treatment here just a touch of Chain Saw carpentry
to give Yellow Fever a bottom that would support
my bottom.

Bonnie was back in business today with the needed
repairs made to Trick or Treat from his last day of
high flying stunts. Mark Kindschi also made an
appearance. Mark just back from a reef snorkeling
trip to Mexico was elaborating on his trip while
rigging his boat. It got me thinking, how can a guy
go on a trip during ice boat season and not be
worried sick that he is missing good ice? My wife
has never understood this concern and excuse that
I use never to leave Maine in the winter.
Once rigged we talked, sunbathed and watched for
wind. Mike and I got sidetracked to repairing our
broken ice boat pushing machine and didn’t notice
Larry sailing down the pond in light wind. Larry is
crafty and got the upper hand on us. Mike hollered
"Larry is sailing". We threw our wrenches in the air
and hit the ice in chase of Larry and his Little
Monsta. There was just enough wind to sucker us
out into the middle of the pond and then it flunked
out. Sucker day, I thought to myself as I sprawled
out in the cockpit of Yellow Fever and enjoyed the
heat from the morning sun. I lit a cigar and used
the rising smoke from it as a telltale. It was so
quiet on the pond you could hear Mike growling
about the lacking wind over a mile away where he
had stalled. Mike always used to occupy himself on
days like this by playing video solitaire on his cell
phone.
The hot sun was juicing up the ice so that a breath
of wind would get us moving. We ever so slowly
reached East and West from one side of Walker to
the other. This took place for an hour or so until we
finally got enough of a breeze to sail speeds in the
20 mph range. We all converged on an area that
bottle necks the wind and gives a nice blast along
the East and West shore line. If sailed perfectly
this blast would give us the momentum and speed
to make the opposite shoreline. I very much enjoy
this type of sailing. It has always been a challenge
for me to keep the wing powered up while tacking
and jibing. Long slow tacks and jibes along the
shoreline seemed to be the trick to keeping her
hooked up. It was nice not to have a boom
whacking me in the head and to be in the more
comfy full bottomed cockpit of Yellow Fever. I had
missed the ol girl and was glad that we had a good
ride together. The wing topped out at 30 mph
before we all charged for the pits and had a picnic
in the mid day sun.

Iceahlolic was sinking in the mid day sun. Her
warm runners had melted down into the ice. A true
shame for this little darling to sit idle in the pits.
Iceaholic had been abandoned by her rightful owner
whom was on a plane headed for California .
Vanessa loves to travel and passed up my
predictions of good ice for a trip West with a friend
. It takes time for the iceboating bug to bury deep
in ones soul . I will challenge Vanessa’s photo
album from the West with my ice photos from the
East and we will see who oohhs and aahhhs the
most.

After lunch we got in another hour of great sailing
before weird things started happening to our
smooth , juicy plate of ice. Runners were smashing
down through the surface and cornmeal type ice
was flying through the air. We all knew what this
meant and worked our way back to the pits in
prompt fashion. By this time the local Hells Angels
chapter had landed on the ice with ATV’s and
motorcycles. Rooster tails 20 feet high from knobby
tires and loud barking exhausts didn’t really seem
like proper respect for our dying friend in her final
hours. Walker got our utmost respect this past few
days and she treated us well. Her memories will
stay with us til we meet again. Rest in peace old
friend.

Kevin