Ice

So there I was...hiking out onto the ice of Lake Ontario.  Kim and I had given part of a Saturday to snowshoeing through the park bordering the lake's south shore and after dropping off our deep snow hiking wonders at the car, we slipped and slid our way onto the hundred plus yards of ice extending out from the shore.  What made it especially tough going was that it froze in the form of ice balls the size of bowling balls.  Thousands and thousands of them.  Made you feel like you were on the moon if the moon had water.  Got me thinking of one of the winter trips we did with friends years ago.  Instead of the deep snow that we were used to snowshoeing in, that year the weather had spread a thick layer of ice over everything.  Ever the Robust Trampers, we hiked out away from our warm wood fired cabin only to spend the entire time trying to stay vertical, struggling against gravity and ice.  At one point I did a most magnificent full split.  I can't do a split.  Hurt for days.  The next year several of us owned those cleats you wrap around the soles of your boots to avoid these olympic displays in the future.  Many years before this, I brought my new bride home to Connecticut during the winter to spend some time with my family.  Since she had never ice skated, I took her to the pond where I spent countless hours of my youth playing hockey, ice tag and just skating lap after lap until darkness fell and you couldn't see to avoid the cracks in the ice anymore.  She did exceptionally well for her first time and didn't even fall once.  So I pushed her down.  Everyone needs to fall at least once their first time out.  I don't think she saw it that way.