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Jan 16 2010 Toddy Pond |
After much scouting, calling , more scouting, more calling and the longest four days of work I have ever endured it finally was time to hitch up the trailer and head for Toddy Pond in Orland, Maine. The ice looked good, the wind looked bad and the temps predicted would surely be softening up the ice. Not the perfect combination but enough to get this blue collar ice boater up at 4 am feeling like a six year old on Christmas morning. It is not often that we drive past Walker this time of year but as we looked down from Caterpillar Hill the glistening clumps of snow in the rising morning sun confirmed that we should move on to smoother pastures and pass by this surface that would rival a poorly frosted cake. Though I had previously scouted our destination and met a few of its inhabitants I was a bit nervous about rolling into this heavily populated hideaway and taking space on the community ice. My cousin Robert whom I’ve yet to meet due to his work schedule, gave in to my plea for ice access which was spiced with iceboating lure and agreed to plow an access road for us. Not your typical boat landing type access but for us it was the skeleton key that would unlock the Toddy door. Vanessa was absent this trip due to a search for life long happiness despite my telling her to find it on the ice. Larry being prepared for my decision to place dibs on Iceaholic brought along Little Monsta so that he would have a ride. Little Monsta came out of the gates fast on the early morning ice. Fast being able to move. Iceaholic was making the Cheetos being run over by a truck sound and it was obvious that sharp runners were not going to work on the softening snow ice. Mike caught up on his sunbathing and watched for wind. A switch to flatter, duller and longer runners put me in the hunt with Larry but he still chose to blast past me randomly. I think he even tried to sail a circle around me once. It is a ritual we have grown used to in light winds. My silent prayers for more wind combined with tactical maneuvers put Larry and I into the most aggressive dual you could possibly have at 18 mph. It ended in a sudden and funny to watch pop as Little Monsta ejected her mast, sail and boom off the leeward side which instantly put Larry into Fred Flintstone mode. Though we had passed up a poorly frosted cake at Walker we had whipped up the perfect recipe on Toddy. Garnish a plate of ice--- with a heap of sun--- a dash of wind--- a handful of boats--- and serve at 41 degrees. You will be sure to meet nice people. We explained our crafts in detail to the gathering onlookers. My day peaked when a 52 year old gent named Jeff said he had always wanted to ride in an iceboat since first seeing one at the age of 5. Attempts to follow cars with iceboats strapped on them had been failing him for 47 years. It took Jeff a few minutes to get his composure back after I told him to jump in and take her for a spin. I rode the beam with Jeff, and then our good friend Richard from the house next door until they felt comfortable and got their bearings in the cockpit. Needless to say they both had a great time. Richard the more moderate and reserved type had an intense fear of upsetting the boat, but once overcome became a fast learner. He somehow managed to blast past Larry and made note of it to Larry once in the pits. Visitors came with dogs, kites, skates, skis, ATV’s and one fellow even buzzed us in a plane with runners. A quiet young man named Jacob got the last ride of the day as I pushed Iceaholic into the pits at days end. Jacob was a youngster of few words but promised me that he would tell his friends at school about his first iceboat ride. At days end we said goodbye to our new group of friends and made promise to come back in the morning along with much steadier wind. Kevin |