Frozen Opportunity

Every year I watch and I wait for the opportunity to skate on the lake. It didn’t happen last year. It doesn’t happen most years, but I knew there was potential this year since January, so far, had more cold than snow. I have been studying the progress of the ice surface for several weeks. There had been a skiff of snow that, at one time, hid the progress; a day of rain, at a another time, to impede it. I kept my eyes on the open current in the middle to see whether it grew or shrank. A tell tale sign of good or bad ice. And then came the cold snap. Ideal ice-making weather. Watching the weather and the temperatures this week was exciting to say the least. Yesterday, I knew It was going to happen soon and mentally prepared myself for whatever happened today.

This morning I work up feeling pretty good, which made me happy because for most of January I had been feeling exhausted and run down, like I was fighting a cold or a flu that didn’t quite arrive or didn’t quite leave. I couldn’t tell which. I had been worried that I would feel too sick to take advantage of the opportunity. But I woke up today ready to skate.

While my husband dozed under the duvet, because skating with two new knees is not currently an experience that he is prepared to tackle, I donned leggings and snow pants, warm socks and a high neck sweater. I added a jacket, hat and mittens and headed down to the lake, stopping only at the shed to pick up a folding lawn chair because trying to get up off the ground after putting on skates at my age is darn near impossible.

The lake was beautiful. The ice was perfect. There was no wind and no other people around for my first skate in two years. All I could hear was the echoing reverberations of the ice vibrating. It is a sound that often scares people although it shouldn’t because it is harmless and is more like a drum with the ice being the stretched membrane of its surface. I love this sound. I loved it as a child and every time it happens I am reminded of my childhood.

I sat in the chair, removed my boots and put on my skates, recreational skates, which are much warmer and provide much more support than figure skates. I also love my skates. I bought them twenty-six years ago, the first full winter after we moved into our current home by the water. They are a joy to skate in.

Knowing what I know about this lake, I never head out to the middle. The last place where the ice freezes and the first place where it thaws. Where, in the summer, you can see the movement of the current that takes water to the river at the lake’s end. Where I saw open water not too long ago. Also, there is no need to go there because the cove next to my property is the opposite. The ice in the cove is thick and covers still and shallow water that is the first to freeze and the last to thaw. The cove and the so many other areas where the ice is thick provide plenty of skating surface. More than this old skater requires.

Now I am not a good skater. I can’t do figure eights, spins of any kind, or even skate backwards, but I can glide and I can push and keep my balance and stay upright–usually. Today was a successful day in that department. I can enjoy the freedom that skating on a lake provides. I can enjoy the fact that I am not going in circles in a group and can stop slowly or not feel the need to stop at all. I can enjoy the crisp fresh air and the stunning views around me. The way the sun reflects off the lake’s surface. The echoing drum sound.

There is nothing that I do in the winter that can compare to skating on the lake, and although I was only out for forty minutes, the endorphins will last for days. And if I am really lucky, because the upcoming weather looks to be in my favour, I will have the opportunity to go again tomorrow and possibly the next day. Who knows how powerful the endorphins for one or two more skates on the lake will be. I hope to find out.