Ice

With my ruler in my hand, I headed for the ice covered creek.  Somehow, I received the job of being the official ice tester, to see if the ice was thick enough to skate.  I made careful note of the first freeze and then carefully noted if there was a thaw.  Usually a week of solid freeze made the ice a perfect six inches or more.  Since there was no snow, we would not need to shovel the ice to get a skating rink.

I leaned over the edge of the pier and hit it with a pipe until I had a hole large enough for my ruler.  Yes, ten inches!  I turned and noticed that I had been followed.  My own children and the neighborhood kids were waiting for the official word.

“I need to get the life jacket and rope for safety.  Then it's good for you to skate, but no farther than in front of our house.”

I turned and saw my daughter trying to walk on the lawn with her skates already on her feet.  The ground was frozen solid so she wiggled and wobbled until she got to the bulkhead.  Then she slid onto the ice.  Her ankles turned.

“Let me see your skates,” I yelled.

She came. 

“You need to lace them tight all the way up,” I said.  “No wonder your ankles are turning.”

She sped off, gaining confidence with tightened laces.  Soon she was joined by her brother and the other boys in the neighborhood.  We had a box of old skates of varying sizes to outfit anyone who did not have a pair of skates.  It seems they had been in the box while I was checking the ice.  They had a sixth sense to know when the ice was thick too.

I put on my skates and joined them.   It was strange to skate where you would be swimming in summer, a different perspective on top of the water instead of in it. There was so much room skating on the creek.  No worries of being slammed by other skaters, since I was not a pro.  The children spilled onto the ice with belly flops and bottom flops and sideways skids.  They laughed and I wondered if that was half the fun, falling.

Cold soon won out over the joy of skating and everyone retreated to the warmth of home.  As daylight faded, I gazed out the window and looked at the creek.  I stopped, froze, and peered again.  I called to my husband, “Quick! Look!  What are those lights?”

“Headlights.”

“No!”

“Yep! Car headlights. The ice is so thick people are walking out to the Bay.  So I guess someone decided to drive.”

Later we learned that the car continued down our creek toward the Bay. When he neared the entrance to the Bay, the car fell through the ice.  He got out.  In the spring they pulled the car from the Bodkin.