Circumnavigating Wallace Pond

Yesterday

Somewhere around 3:00pm I couldn’t stay inside any longer.  Cold as it was I had to be outside.  Bundled up, dog excited by the prospect of a mid-day walk, we trucked down the driveway and stopped at the bottom to decide which way to go.  We decided on an adventure.  Over the top of the road-side ice bank and onto some virgin snow under Mr. Turner’s pines we stepped out onto the ice and began a 360 degree walk around Wallace Pond.

Despite the cold this was a fair weather adventure.  The sun was strong and the wind was light.  I had no idea how long it would take to walk all the way around the lake.  I had never done it before. 

Even though the weather had been so cold for so long, and I was reasonably certain that the ice was very, very thick, we proceeded with caution.  Some of the stuff at the very edge looked watery.  I kept to a path about ten or twelve feet from the edge just to be sure. 

There were two types of ice I had to walk on.  Clear to milky looking stuff that was extremely slick and stuff covered with a little bit (1/4” to a few inches) of frost or snow.  The former was extremely hard to stay up on as it gave me no traction at all.  To walk on this polished ice I had to assume a crouched stance (for balance) and slide almost as if I were skating.  Many times my feet almost flew out from under me but I never fell.  My walking stick was little help on the slick stuff.  On the snow-covered ice I walked comfortably, upright and with confidence.  Consequently I plotted my path along the shadows where there was more crunchy snow and as few patches of the slick stuff as possible.  The alternating pattern of my progress was Walk, Walk, Walk, Walk, Slide, Slide, Walk, Walk, Walk, Slide, Walk, Slide…etc. 

Gurler plotted her own path more or less parallel to my own, but mostly on the snow to the ‘landward’ side of the shoreline.  I had to keep one eye on her as she gave no thought to coming close to the patches of ice that seemed thin and watery.  I came close to one of those watery areas to inspect it and was surprised to see how thick it actually was.  It was strong enough to hold me easily but had no entrained air so it was perfectly clear.  I could see down to the bottom a foot beneath the surface.  Still cautious, I worried less about the dog’s curious path and paid attention to my own efforts to stay upright.

While I was on the slick ice, fighting to stay on my feet, I couldn’t enjoy the view, but when I was comfortably moving on the snowy surface I could relax and take it all in.  I was walking where I had never walked before.  Perhaps the winter would end and I would never have the privilege of this perspective again (at least without a boat).  It was beautiful in an agoraphobic sort of way.  On a floating, thirty acre raft of ice.  Tethered to nothing.  A flat, cold vista that nature rarely shares with humans unless they loose themselves from their books and T.V. and get in a boat or, like Gurler and I, decide to scuttle out there on foot.  Also, on the relative stability of the snowy surface it crossed my mind that I wished I’d brought my camera.  I killed the thought at birth and put myself back in the moment knowing I could easily enjoy the experience without my electronic geegaws.  (I would placate the impulse later with my cell phone camera-does that count?)

When I had turned the corner at the southeast corner of the pond (about half way around) I discovered the character of the ice had changed.  It was considerably thinner and I redoubled my watch for my own safety and for the dog’s.  She was in heaven smelling the smells of people’s backyards especially the ones who owned dogs.  She was in their runs.  She was sniffing their private smells.  Once or twice she even trapped herself in the fenced in confines of the yard and had to figure out how to get out.  I was proud of her in one case where she looked at me for direction and followed my hand signals to escape. 

The last and crowning moments of the trip as we got back to our side of the lake was the landing of a flock of Canadian geese onto the ice.  They circled a couple of times to see what we were up to.  They swooped down to get a closer look and seeing the dog they pulled up abruptly and stayed up in the air.  By some unseen/unheard signal they all landed twenty or thirty yards away in the middle of the pond and then ignored us completely.  Gurler, not so fond of the slick ice, ignored the birds as well.  I stopped and watched them for a while.  When I turned and looked for Gurler she was looking at me, waiting to climb the bank to get home.  It had taken us only an hour and five minutes to circumnavigate Wallace Pond.