Reflections from a T.P. Childhood in the late 1930’s and the 1940’s Winter (#4)

By Ted Tyler

Come spring (the ice usually went out about April 20^th or so) there was often a contest among my peers as to who had the courage to jump in the lake first.  The first sunny day after “ice out” we would gather at some good jumping-off place and egg each other on.  This has left me with great admiration for participants in polar bear clubs.  It’s a shocking experience.  My recollection is of hitting the water and almost running on it to get out again as quickly as possible.

(Conversely, at the other end of the year we tested the ice with every freeze – to see if it would hold our weight.  Often it wouldn’t, but as well as I can remember, no lives were lost.  For the most part we were sane enough not to test it where we would have been over our heads.)

“Ice out” on a river could be quite spectacular and a spectator event going back to my Grandfather’s day in Enosburg Falls (on the Missisquoi River) – and no doubt considerably prior to that.  At some point day or night the spring thaw would reach a tipping point, unleashing snow melt and taking the ice out with it.  Huge slabs of ice would float down, frequently snagging on a rock, bridge or other obstruction and creating ice jams behind which volumes of water would accumulate – until the pressure reached a point where water and ice roared down river once again.  Sometimes dangerous and destructive, but lots of fun to watch. 

“Ice out” on Missisquoi Bay was generally a less dramatic experience.  (Those in the know would have removed their ice shanties, generally by the end of March.  The two species fished in winter at our end of Lake Champlain were yellow perch and northern pike.)  The rivers, fed by snow melt, would open up first.  Channels in the ice would appear leading from the main mouths of the Missisquoi River, and increasingly from so-called Dead Creek, proximate to the T.P.  At some point a heavy west wind might coincide with the break up and the Old Stone Dock covered ten feet deep in crystalline, disintegrating ice.  Other years, one day the ice would still be there – and the next, gone.  Depending on snow accumulation in the mountains and weather conditions, high water occurred sometime in April or May – often six to eight feet above the summer/autumn low. Flotsam and jetsam – including the remains of duck blinds and fishing shanties unretrieved by their owners – washed ashore. The local fishing turned to bullpout by light at night at river outlets (Rock River bridge was and is a favored site).  At the very start of open water, woodducks and a couple of other locally nesting duck species examined suitable lakeshore tree cavities (we now supplement these with nest boxes). 

Previous to ice out came sugaring – usually starting in February – with “sugar bushes” with a southern exposure and lower altitude having the initial sap runs.  It was all buckets and horse teams then – no plastic piping. And the evaporators were all fired with wood.  My cousins and I tapped the many maples in the immediate vicinity of the Old Dock Road, the Kingfisher Bay and Point cottages south to Shipyard Bay and boiled the sap to syrup in wide pans over an open fire – which resulted in a product with a lot of ashes in it, but delicious nonetheless.