What a pleasure to read this story that reflects my own experience skating on ponds and rivers while growing up in New Hampshire. I'm from Newmarket, NH and skated on the same Lamprey River that the author recalls. No living in Connecticut, there are even fewer chances for the perfect outdoor ice to appear, but last winter there was one great day. I forced my husband and daughter (an actual figure skater) to come with me and skate on our local lake. They couldn't understand what I was so excited about - until they started skating on the smooth, wide open sheet of ice. Now, all three of us keep hoping for another day like that one.
I enjoy ice skating so much that I'm following in my daughter's footsteps and am learning to figure skate. This is quite challenging for someone in their 50's but I highly recommend it. And I continue to wait for another perfect day to skate on the lake...
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What a lovely tale of Joyce's lifelong love of skating. It brought back so many memories of my youth in New Jersey, where we kids skated on a bumpy pond, a fire burning in a barrel by a bench and moms offering hot chocolate. I also cherished the times I had a pond to myself in Vermont, where I tried to teach myself cross-overs and spins. I was never very good but enjoyed being outside in the cold and quiet evenings, the sun setting, the moon rising, the air crisp and nobody in sight. Thank-you, Joyce, for bringing back such joyful memories and sharing yours.
Beautiful piece that takes me back to skating on the “Bog” south of Boston in the 60’s and 70’s. Massive all day hockey games, but on special occasions you could skate alone through the reeds and explore the tributaries. We would build a fire and cook hotdogs on sticks so we wouldn’t need to leave all day when the ice was good.
I fear that my hockey playing grandchildren won’t have the same experience (but maybe I’ll kidnap them from their rink games and skate through the reeds again!).
Joyce, I looked for good ice for years when I was young. I usually ended up on Konold's Pond, off Rt. 69 in Woodbridge, just north of the New Haven line. The pond is really big and there were often people ice fishing, too. I went alone sometimes (don't know what my mother was thinking, or if she even knew -- kids roamed a lot more then), but I stuck to where the people were. Sometimes I heard those loud cracking sounds and checked around to see what the grownups were doing. I also went skating after school on Pond Lily, which Konold's Pond feeds into on it's way to the Sound. They are some of my best memories and even now I dream to putting on my skates again and flying away. l finally gave them away a few years ago since it's so hard now to find a safe, frozen pond around here.
1958 Waterbury Park was our neighborhood playground in The Bronx. The basketball court was flooded for ice skating. Not as idyllic as Lake Morey Vermont but oh, great memories. I was 4 my brother was 9.
Thanks for the lovely remembrance. It brought me back to Oradell, NJ in the late 1950's. The town had two shallow ponds that were flooded for outdoor skating, and a white flag with a red ball would get flown in the park when the ice was officially thick enough to skate on. I was so proud when I was a good enough skater to be given a snow shovel by Coach Meulhlick so I could clear the ice as the snow fell.
It's been years since I thought about those times. Thanks again.
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Joyce, thank you for gracing my morning with your lovely writing. Like you, I grew up skating outside - for me it was on the cranberry bogs of Mattapoisett, Rochester, and Marion, MA. A wonderful corner of New England that was my childhood home.
Later in life, we skated on Occom Pond in Hanover, NH which is worth a stop on February weekend to see the college and town all turned out on the ice like something out of a Flemish painting.
These memories are imprinted deeply in me, and your essay cut right to the heart of them. Thanks!
-John
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Skating around Lake Morey is indeed magical. I’m delighted to see it get recognition in the Times, but wary that this piece will inspire too many people to travel there to skate, crowding the lake and ruining the experience.
What a beautiful essay about a joy you have carried through life. I am so glad you found Lake Morey. I went to college at UVM in Burlington. Coming from the Mid-Atlantic, where winter consists of scattered snowstorms, it was truly the first time I experienced winter and its sports in all their glory.
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Before the Highline or even Battery Park City, after the old West Side Highway was dropped, a narrow ribbon of asphalt grew alongside the Hudson River. Newly divorced and remembering the magic of ice skating as a kid, I borrowed a clunky pair of roller blades and spent every evening gliding back and forth with that Joni Mitchel song in my head. For years, no one was out there and it was like skiing at night or lake skating in Vt. I was flying and it was a magical rehabilitation.
In college, my goal was to skate across the Netherlands, but somewhere in the boring practicalities of life, that fantasy fled. Funny, I just gave my ice skates away this winter. Maybe I will borrow some skates again and lose some 50 years. Maybe the canals will freeze over just one more time. Thanks for the lovely memories.
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What a pleasure to start my day with this peaceful contemplation of one of winter's simple joys.
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One of my most beautiful memories is river skating when I was a student at Middlebury College in Vermont. My friends and I would wait for the annual January thaw hoping for a sharp cold snap to follow. When it did, we would venture down the hill to the Lemon Fair River at night to skate under the moon.
It was like a fantasy. The river surface usually was cold and hard and we would skate it’s banked track like roller derby skaters. The big bonus though was the woods. The river cut through a field of woods and would overflow it’s banks during a thaw. So there we were, skating through shadowed trees under the stars and moon, the ice cracking like rifle shots mixed with the “woom, woom” of the surface vibrating under us like a drum head.
One day the bravest of our bunch skated all the way down the Lemon Fair until the river opened up into Lake Champlain. There they skated north to Burlington where they leapt over open water twice in their pursuit of ecstasy. I stayed back at school quite certain of the fact that I would have plunged through the ice into an icy bath.
Our bravest returned with stories and great excitement. To this day we still talk with awe of ice skating on the Lemon Fair River.
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Thank you!!
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@Scott Pitz Thanks for sharing this! I'm a fellow Midd alum, though I can't say I ever river skated (spent most of my winter hours skiing or running)!
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@Scott Pitz As a fellow Middlebury grad, who chose to return to Vermont to raise my kids, the Lemon Fair is a joy, on the ice and from a perch up on Buck Mountain. Thanks for the memories.
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Minnesota, Michigan, and Wisconsin are the places to be.
Lucky enough to marry a Minnesota native and then move to Michigan in the 90's and live on a lake. Still so cold then. We once had the perfect freeze. Six inches of transparent ice on our 150 acre lake. The fish didn't know what to do as we skated over them. I'm sure they felt like we were herons or eagles coming in for a meal. When it snowed a neighbor plowed and maintained a giant loop.
Skating like this is hypnotic and once you start, you can take off the layers, drop them in the snow, and pick them up on the way back.
We had our "river to skate away on." Thanks Joni.
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Skating the Rideau Canal in Ottawa is on my bucket list so naturally this was a great read for me. I grew up in Minneapolis, where they flood many an outdoor basketball court to create outdoor skating rinks in the winter with little warming houses attached. You could skate anytime, no charge, and often by yourself. Skating at night was especially fun. Any body of water was fair game there. I remember skating on the swamp behind my house, giggling as my skates bumped over frozen reeds. What you didn't mention is that outdoor ice is much softer than ice set down by a Zamboni, making it a somewhat different experience.
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I spent my early years in the deep South but we moved to Winnetka, Illinois when I was in sixth grade. A local park was specially graded to be a skating rink in the winter, the ice created by firemen from the local department who hooked up fire hoses most every night to add another layer of smooth ice. There was also a "shack" erected with park benches inside and a wood burning pot-bellied stove to warm us up. We would head over right after school, often wearing our skates with skate guards, and just skate until exhaustion or hunger drove us home. NO lessons, just watch others and figure out how to do it as ones ankles finally strengthened enough to be able to glide, turn, skate backward and even do a few simple spins. Playing "crack-the-whip" was the scariest part but I don't remember anyone actually getting hurt.
Two years later we moved to Long Island and the skating was only occasional on a nearby small pond that sometimes froze over. But the best memory was the New Years when after a party at the Manhasset Congregational Church, a few of us went home, got our skates and came back to skate on Copley Pond with the Youth Minister, Ray Fenner, In the wee hours of the morning!
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Great essay, beautiful photographs. And the sound of ice shifting/cracking is a marvel; my favorite place to listen for that is at the Harriman Reservoir, an eight mile long body of water in Wilmington, VT. It's surrounded by mountains, so you might hear an echo if the air is still. Winter brings along many gifts, to be sure.
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In the '60s, the small woods behinds our high school flooded during the late winter after a torrential rain on frozen ground. Next, a hard freeze, and the familiar woods turned into acres of perfectly smooth frozen pond for two days.
Magic, effortless skating, weaving in and out of the trees.
It was Michigan and everyone could skate. Those of us who knew to take advantage of brief windows of opportunity, were in heaven.
A life's lesson.
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As a farm kid we skated southern Minnesota beaver ponds near Rochester. Since there's a lack of chores when it's twenty below my dad would take us to the Mississippi to ice fish. My brother and I snuck our skates into the trunk and when da was distracted by the bored and to us boring hole we took off. It was like a dream except for the consequences but it's difficult to smack someone with two pairs of gloves on. I wish I had a river...
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This article is a delight. Thank you.
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This sounds like such a dream! A bit farther south from there, we haven't had much of a winter at all -- maybe one snowfall, and temperatures never cold enough for thick ice. For me, it's a sad winter.
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Joyce Maynard, You do not know what you are missing by using hockey skates instead of Nordic skates
Skating on Nordic skates is the ultimate Zen movement. Switching weight from one foot to the other in long strides requires power and balance. That simple movement, repeated again and again in an empty landscape, empties the mind of all baggage. Striving for total control and total relaxation leaves no place for anything else. It is liberating to feel power and balance, to feel invincible and vulnerable at the same time.
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@Jan de Vries I will try them next time.
I too am a lifelong skater. Aka rink rat. As a kid every school had a large rink created on the ball field by the town Rec. dept.and we skated at lunch and recess and had to wait for after school to play hockey. My first indoor skating was also at Snively. I was a UNH student in the early 70's and remember times of perfect black ice and skating from the Newmarket dam nearly to Durham accompanied by Joni. These days I get my ice fix by being a referee and the best part is getting on the ice early for some warmup laps when the ice is flawless and empty with memories of the Lamprey river. Keep skating!
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Gosh, thank you so much for this! I too am enraptured by lake skating. When I was 9 we moved to a South Jersey town, our house on a lake. Dad built a dock, and all winter my four brothers and I, all the kids from all the houses on the lake, would lace up and get out there for hours. The risky fun would be when the thaw started (in those days, the 60s, when the lake froze, it stayed frozen all winter). We'd slide on ice with surface water lapping at our skates, and if someone's foot went through the thinner ice, moms would finally yell No more skating!
Although winters have been hit or miss here in North Jersey, another stellar spot exists, the Celery Farm in Allendale. It is a huuuuge wildlife preserve that accommodates numerous hockey games (kids shoveling the snow that inevitably falls, as you know) and dozens of novices and veterans skating away. The breeze, the chill, the vastness of it all -- it is truly the place where I am happiest.
Keep your skates in the car if you're ever driving through NJ. Maybe I'll see you on the pond : )
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I was a kid in 1950's western Wisconsin, and I remember the fire dept flooding the local rink. There was a small warming/changing house with a stove blasting. You could buy sodas and candy bars. Best of all there was a small creek adjacent to the rink where you could skate for miles into the moonlit dark, past farms. It was magical. I spent endless hours skating in the winter and it was important as a diversion because reading was the only other recreation competing with skating. Many times I came home so cold that I couldn't feel my extremities. I don't think the town fathers even bother doing this for the kids any longer.
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Joyce,
Like many other readers, I relate so well to this essay.
My siblings and I all learned to skate on a backyard rink our father built for us each winter (Concord, MA in the 1950s and 60s!) using planks, long sheets of plastic and a garden hose. We loved going out there after dark to skate under the makeshift floodlights.
Fast forward more than 50 years: I have been back up on figure skates a few times in each of the past couple of winters. Now I am lucky enough to skate on the pristine New Hampshire lake that is right in front of my home. There are occasional days when the surface is like glass and I really can “skate away” on it, with mostly just ice, trees, mountains and sky in view. So incredibly rejuvenating!
You may recall we also share the experience of having had a husband with pancreatic cancer. Miraculously, mine is a four-year survivor now, but athletic activities like skating are far outside his reach currently —which, in itself, is maddening and saddening to us both.
Find freedom and joy wherever and whenever you can.- Rebecca
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@Rebecca Meyers Of course I remember you and am so glad to hear that Roger has gotten through these years. This is a huge victory as you know.
Author says "All my life I had wished I had a river I could skate away on. That night, I discovered, a lake would do."
Could the author credit Joni Mitchell for the hook she uses here both in the article title and her concluding sentence.
Mitchell:"Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on.."
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Thank you. I needed this article.
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This hockey mom spent two fun, beautiful weekends at the resort for pond hockey tournaments. The best part was skating the long lake loop with my kids! Cold brisk wind - just enough - a little speed, warm legs pumping and raw exhilaration just to see mountain and ice. No music needed! Spectacular place; great piece. Keep skating!! Xxoo
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jeez, I miss living in a winter climate...
where you can ski or skate out your back door, where the city doesn't shut down with 1/8 " of snow...
where you can regulate your temperature easily 'cause the air is dry, and you don't sweat up the inside of your "breathable" gear and get chilled at 40 degrees.
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so beautiful.... thank you
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Skating away, skating away, skating away
On the thin ice of the new day
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In the late 40's, you could skate on Van Cortlandt Park Lake.
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From the bio:
"Joyce Maynard’s most recent book is the memoir “The Best of Us.” Her new novel, “The Cork People,” will be published next year. Currently an undergraduate at Yale, she is the founder of The Lake Atitlan Memoir Workshop.”
Dang, she’s been dragging that college thing out for a long time :)
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@Jim Katz ~
Maybe re-enrolling at Yale was unfinished business, maybe a coping mechanism after the death of her husband.
"JOYCE MAYNARD’S SECOND CHANCES" is a New Yorker article that is revealing. I was impressed that she is paying Yale tuition herself after foregoing the full scholarship of her youth.
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@Mary Ann Donahue ~
Big OOPS. It is forfeiting, not foregoing.
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What a pleasant reading!
Thank you.
Now I have this certain „smell“ of ice in my nose. Of course a runny nose!
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This thread contains the voices of my people...my memories..New Lisbon Wisconsin.
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We used to skate like this on Lake Winnebago snowmobile trails worn smooth. Amazing feeling.
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Simply beautiful. What a dream to skate like this.
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Gunnison, Colorado is a cold place because the reservoirs west of town filled the canyons that used to let the cold air sink. Now when there is no snow or wind has polished Blue Mesa Reservoir you can skate for miles and miles, During the day or better yet under the full moon. It is magical.
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Wait . . .Is the skater in orange's beard frozen?
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I miss the sound blades make when they drag behind on the ice.
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great story! If you want other places to go to, try Stockholm's archipelago. The ocean freezes over, in some cases all the way to Åland, and the ice is invariable black as ink and smooth as glass and we spend many Sundays, with special skates, gliding between islands like rocket ships on ice. There are many places that serve hot chocolate and sandwiches and a return to the city is always greeted with a quick aquavit...its a brilliant experience..!
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No background music? Yay! The trail is tended by the town? Brilliant! A separateness area for the more sports-focused folk? Fantastic! The lodging isn’t fancy and you don’t have to drive to get to the ice? And a bit of bit of table tennis before knocking of foot for the evening? It all strikes me as ideal.
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Yes, it's a gem. But where are the ice fishing huts? This ice skating loop must be relatively new (and a great addition). I hope they didn't restrict local ice fishermen for the benefit of tourists at the resort. My wife and I lived about 100' from where those pictures were taken and got married out on that frozen lake, 27 years ago... now we've got 5 kids and a mule named Morey.
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Joyce Maynard is presented as an undergraduate at Yale. Some readers may wonder how it could be possible as the story relates to her experience in terms of "decades" or "half a century." Perhaps it might have been added that she has gone back to school to finish her undergraduate study that she had not completed.
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I can still remember Joyce Maynard’s first piece in The NY Times Magazine in, what, 1971? Lyrical writing then, and now.
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What a lovely story about that perfect solitary trail in the middle of nature.
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Our first skating pond was about 200 ft from our house. The little kids would go there to learn and crashing into the cattails was fun. As your skills improved you moved across the street to the bigger pond where we would play 5 on 5 hockey, the ice cold air burning your nostrils. While running "indoor track" in HS our 5 mile warm up would route us around a another lake. Being teenagers we would run across the lake for fun ( and because it was shorter). The lakes would be frozen for much of the winter, and we would always be out there. The little kids pond is now a marsh, and it has been several years since the ice has been good for more than a week. I hope we can reverse what is happening to our climate.
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I haven't even read a word of the article yet but just from the picture these people need to get long distance skates. Hockey and figure skates are for short spurts and sharp turns but long distance skates (they look like speed skates) are the only way to go and boy are they worth it!
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When I lived in Manhattan in the 90’s I rollerbladed all through the park and from my apt on 79th street down to NYU. The city was quiet then on weekends, I felt like I had the whole place to myself. I loved it. Thank you for bringing it all back.
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For me too,skating was like flying; trying to explain that to someone who's never ice stated is almost impossible. I miss it terribly.
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Joyce Maynard:
What a wonderful story of your appreciation of clean ice.
In the late 60's I was far more careless and w-a-y lucky to be alive, but I had a similar urge to find it.
Just outside of Baileys Crossroads, Lake Barcroft stood as a reminder to what was formerly a water supply for Alexandria.
That December it was cold. Real cold. So cold that the lake froze over - it must have been before or just after Christmas. I had a couple of Washington Post paper routes that I would usually complete by 6:30am.
I had stopped going to church with my family, finding that the time spent alone walking or biking to church for 7-730 am mass seemed to be better spent in awe of the sunrise.
But it was cold - the lake had frozen. In an absurd moment, I decided to skate to church after finishing my paper routes.
It was a 1/2 mile to the entry where Holmes Run widened into the lake. I laced on the skates I had borrowed, Boots over my shoulder and hockey stick in hand and puck on the ice I set out alone. Scared? Yes. Going to stop? No. I heard the sound of the pressure cracks as they echoed across the lake and the hills. There was no one in sight. Just me as I rounded the second corner that opened up to the longest reach across the deepest part to connect me to Carlyn Springs Drive where I would reboot and walk to St Anthony's. Trembling, I took it. 2 Sundays in a row, I was the only person w/ skates and a hockey stick at church. The feel of moving free. So free. In awe. The magic. Thanks
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Sounds good Joyce, but for me, I will stick to the comfort and safety of Leddy Park Arena in Burlington.
Well, you just ruined it. I doubt you'll find yourself alone again on what sounds like a perfect winter weekend.
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Luv that Joni Mitchell song!
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What fun that miles long trek would be on my bauer hockey skates.
Reminds me of skating on our NJ town's pond in the winter as a child, with trees all along the side of the pond and a log fire in the cabin to keep skaters warm.
Excellently timed too, with little snow here in DC this entire season.
Beautiful column.
I can hear the whistle of the wind as you skate...my Dad was a wonderful skater and took me when I was little. Thanks so much for the memory.
I skated once four miles up a lake in Northern Minnesota with my brother-in law. The lake had frozen six inches deep before the snow and it was perfect. I could have skated all the way to Canada on that lake but I had to go to work the next day. Alas.
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Growing up in the 60’s in Fairfield CT, some of my best strongest memories are skating on the Mill River. After school I would drop my ‘bookbag’ on the kitchen table and head to the river with skates slung over my shoulders to meet whatever friends had the same magnetic attraction to spend the afternoon dashing, circling, racing, twirling, backwards gliding. No parents or lessons were needed, I never felt freer or more alive than those cold and blissfully tiring afternoons, deciding for myself when to call it a day as the sun kept getting lower in the sky, calculating just how lomg I could manage to keep skating and make it home before dark. I worry that kids today don’t have the oportunities to be as independent or feel the perfect joy of spending an afternoon in the company of other kids and without adults, discovering what can make them happy.
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I certainly believe had I known about a glorious lake like this I would have found even more solace in the giant circle and the evening quiet. Aladincash slot online Absolute bliss reading this. My most cherished memory on ice was similar to what Joyce beautifully describes from her childhood, on the same body of water, Mill Pond, in Durham, NH. I could not describe the setting and that feeling of freedom the way she can but I certainly felt it.
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Ever since I began traveling for business, I've always brought my inline skates with me. Wherever my profession takes me, I always know I can find some pavement to glide on after a long day's work. In a pinch, the hotel parking lot will do, but the most glorious rides are a sprawling university campus, or an interminable bike path. The tickling feeling of wheels revolving furiously under my feet while my body floats (sometimes) gracefully above them with all of the complex forces in balance feels just like flying. Thank you for this article.
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A fellow skater from double-blades days, I so resonate with your lovely story. You stirred up all kinds of memories. Thank you for that. We had a pond in North Stonington, CT., and it is the only pond that I ever skated on with black ice, and you could see the leaves and the twigs and the air bubbles beneath the surface. It was a glorious day. Flying is the apropos word, indeed. Skated down a river at 8,000ft altitude in CO where we lived. Brilliant blue-sky day, and avocado and sprout sandwiches on our homemade bread. Thank you so much for sharing what some of us can only describe as bliss.
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What a gem of an article. It brought back a lot of memories of lake and pond skating and hockey in the 70s. Every once in awhile we'd stop to watch ice boats flying by at incredible speeds or an ice fisherman pulling one up from the dark water. I sailed on that lake in summer, which added to the allure of skating around the middle of it in winter, but never had the nerve for ice boating.
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Lovely article, I too loved the Joni Mitchell reference, it's a lovely song.
I've never seen ice, never seen sleet, never seen snow and it's always nice to read about it and see pictures of it. I had skates once but they had wheels on them.
Thanks again for this article from a foreign land(to me here in Aus)
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This is a beautiful story. I grew up in Minnesota and learned to skate on a pond. Later we lived on a large lake so I totally understand the quest for perfect ice. It was rarely there year after year on our large lake but the nearby small lake often froze into beautiful skating ice. Thank you for sharing your beautiful and touching moments through the years seeking perfect ice and peace.
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I love the Joni Mitchell reference.
There's just nothing like skating on a pond, lake or stream. Be careful out there, people. Have a blast.
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The story brings me back to my carefree winter days on Long Island when we would head to the pond and the ‘res’ for skating. The older boys would clear the surface of any snow and we would skate past dark to get home in time for dinner. Before leaving we would poke holes in the ice for the bubbling up water to create a desk sheet for the next day. On occasion we’d have a small fire that would warm us. Ahh we were young!!!
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There's a group in Montana that post their skating adventures on local lakes, called "Wild Ice Montana" their facebook feed has some lulu's, including a while skate on a lake in Glacier park that was mythical in scope. Fly on...
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Love, love, love
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Fifty years ago, almost to the day, I laced up my first pair of skates and taught myself to skate on Schlegel Lake in the Township of Washington NJ. Those first moments were both terrifying and exhilarating. I was hooked. Growing up in the Bronx skating was not possible but after our parents moved us out to the burbs it became a reality. The lake was practically in my backyard. From the minute the lake was dubbed acceptable for skating I was on it. I came home from school and went skating. I would sneak out in the wee hours of the morning to go skating. I loved skating so much that I signed up for lessons at the local skating rink. I had dreams of Olympic glory as I practiced my single jumps and spins. Alas it was not to be. But I still kept skating. It has been too many years since I last laced up my skates, due to failing knees and back issues, but the feeling of freedom that I had as I zoomed across that frozen surface is as vivid now as it was fifty years ago. Nothing else has ever thrilled me like that. Thank you for taking me back in time and reminding me of my first love.
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A hockey player from age 6, ice skating is pure heaven. I read The wolves of Willoughby Chase when I was young and there was a scene where they skate down canals in the Netherlands. I can’t remember much else but I’ve been on the lookout for a great straight-away ever since. Thanks for a great reminder of what I still need to do, Joyce. Hi to Audrey.
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This made me misty. Every weekend, I threw my skates over my shoulder, picked up the toboggan, and met my best friend at the pond. We would while away Saturdays and Sundays, twirling, racing and sledding far too fast down the nearby hill. We were together and yet alone, making up imaginary scenes, and always moving, to stay warm. Our parents let us be free and I am forever grateful for this childhood.
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Oh, how I love winter in New England. Black skies with thousands of twinkling stars, nights so still you can hear tree branches creaking, snowshoeing untouched snow on crisp, deep blue sky days. I had forgotten about the joys of pond skating though, thank you for this lovely piece.
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I think the experience must be similar to skate skiing - cross country skiing with skate skis. Sometimes the fields and hills get a hard pack consistency in the spring - with just a little fresh or refrozen snow on top for 'bite' for the ski edges - which is ideal for zooming around on skate skis to your heart's content. At high speed and with little effort.
We would do this in the Ann Arbor area, and I had an 'ecstatic' skate ski session once at a mountain lake in Colorado too!
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Absolute bliss reading this. My most cherished memory on ice was similar to what Joyce beautifully describes from her childhood, on the same body of water, Mill Pond, in Durham, NH. I could not describe the setting and that feeling of freedom the way she can but I certainly felt it. She also captures well the elusive nature of finding long sections of clear, strong ice to skate on. Good for Lake Morey for giving people a way to experience the joy of "river" skating on a lake.
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Amazing.. what memories this brings back. and how interesting that skating and the quiet rhythms of the repetitive movements bring a kind of peace.
At the sudden death of my husband some years ago I found an inexplicable and unexpected comfort in going to the local ice skating rink and going round and round all afternoon. I certainly believe had I known about a glorious lake like this I would have found even more solace in the giant circle and the evening quiet.
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The Rideau canal in Ottawa, Ontario is about six miles long and is kept free of snow and flooded frequently in the middle of the night to keep a smooth surface. I had skated only a few times, clumsily, s a youth in Brooklyn, but I spent three years in Ottawa in my mid-thirties and grew to love that long sweet glide on the canal. One could go fast enough to work up a sweat, even in the coldest weather, and there were warming sheds along the way that served hot chocolate. Local radio stations gave ice condition reports, analogous to traffic reports in less blessed cities: "Be careful, it's a little bumpy under the Bank Street bridge".
I've also had the good fortune to skate on a frozen, snow-free good-sized lake, and that wholly natural experience was the best.
Thanks for reminding me of those wonderful times by sharing your pleasure.
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This lovely story brought back memories of my childhood skating pond where I grew up in New Jersey. We called it Skunk’s Pond, but I imagine that name didn’t appear on any map. Sadly, it was filled in & built on when I was 12 - before wetlands regulations would have prevented such destruction of natural resources & I was too young to do anything about it. Later, memories of skating on the lake in Verona Park - I can still remember the smell of the boathouse and the ridges worn into the ramps that we hobbled down onto the ice. Here in my Connecticut town where I have lived for most of my adult life, we skated nearly every winter on the lake we’ve lived on for 35 years, including a few winters that featured wonderful (& scary) black ice. We haven’t skated for quite a while now - a combination of the effects of climate change (the lake was only frozen for brief intervals this winter) and fear of broken bones. Thanks, Joyce, for a beautiful story that made me smile & brought back many fond memories.
6
After my parent’s divorce, my siblings and I moved with our mother to a small home on a lake that had been our summer cottage. The first winter the ice froze perfectly smooth, and there was little snow. The ten year old boy that I was found skating, especially at night, to be very healing. I spent the rest of my childhood winters playing pond hockey, and slipping out at night to skate alone. I thought I would never top those memories until, while in my fifties, I was invited by some guys to go skating on the backwaters of the Mississippi River near the Iowa/Minnesota border when the conditions were perfect. Miles and miles of small serpentine channels through the forest. Bigger wider channels and wide open sloughs. Beavers, muskrat, deer, bald eagles, and pileated woodpeckers. Heaven on earth in my old beat up Bauers. Most of my Midwest contemporaries are moving to Florida. I’m seriously thinking about the opposite direction.
31
We are experiensing record warm winter on the Southern Finland. I am still waiting for lake ice, let alone sea ice. My good old nordic blades have been sharpened, but nothing on the weather forecast seems to indicate any chance of skating on the near future.
This might be the new normal.
12
We used to skate on rivers outside Chicago in the 1960s. The Des Plaines River and Salt Creek used to freeze over without any snow falling. We'd skate for miles. No shoveling needed. Pure fun.
5
What a lovely escape from all the noise. This article brought me back to my 8 th grade year, the last time I was on ice skates. I just fell into a little daydream imagining being on that beautiful lake. Thank you so much for this uplifting piece.
8
Joyce, you have described my most treasured moment of skating, all alone, along the Lamprey in Newmarket while a student at UNH many years ago. That deep, dark, clear, beautiful smooth expanse of ice. With Joni Mitchell playing in my head. It was heaven!
11
This one made me misty. When I was was young, every Saturday and Sunday I threw my skates over my shoulders, grabbed my toboggan, met my best girl friend, and skated on the pond. As I twirled and raced, shivered and shouted, I knew these were glorious days of freedom, friendship and play. Our parents left us alone, no phones, but with lots of other folks to call on, if needed. I chose to raise my kids in Vermont and as they tower over me now, I thank my folks for delivering winter beauty to me.
3
There was a pond two houses down from me growing up in North Jersey. The family put up a hut and a fire barrel. It was the 50s. Noone worried about liability waivers. A red flag meant no skating. A green flag was the all welcome. I learned ti skate on rough ice. More than 50 years later, i miss it. None of that in Philly. Thank you for bringign back memories.
8
I read this aloud to my husband who’s been yearning for lake ice and skating. Such a beautiful article, was a nice moment together.
10
I am so jealous. Here in PA we don't get "winter" anymore. A few decades ago we could reliably get some pond skating in, at least for a few days if not weeks. No longer. I think I need an ice skating road trip. Thanks for the great article.
5
@TomPA
I agree Tom, it's been years since I've skated here in south-central PA. It rarely stays cold enough to freeze ponds over. I miss it.
Lovely essay. Brings the memory of winters in college at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. One cold sunny day we skated on a shimmering mirror of ice that was Lake Monona. With our arms outstretched the wind blew us clear across. Sheer delight!
6
Sounds like you grew up in Durham-I went to UNH. Familiar names, Snively Arena, Mill Pond. Good memories.
5
When we were young (mid 1960's), we skated on Catfish Pond, a small shallow pond sheltered by woods that always froze before nearby Tarrytown Lakes (where the recreation department set up a public skating operation) . The sheltering from wind and shallow depth were ideal conditions for a single cold snap to provide ice as smooth as glass. There were no benches to sit on at Catfish: we sat on rocks, logs or bare snow. It was typically a long slog there, over a mile through a snowy trail carrying skates, equipment and a hockey net. On really cold days, my hands would often crack and bleed from tightening skates (no metal skate tightener for me!).
Later, in hIgh School, I fell in love with Joni Mitchell too!
Wonderful piece, thanks.
5
Of course, the year of the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid--1980--there was almost no snow in the Adirondacks. But the cold was definitely there. Schroon Lake, where I grew up, froze a magnificent perfect black, so that from a distance, it did not appear frozen at all, even though the ice was over ten inches thick. For me, it meant ice skating over two miles into the village to go to school, stopping near the shore to observe the fish swimming underneath, and playing hockey on a rink nine miles long. It seemed as if we had two or three weeks of this ice before the first snowfall.
Last year came close to this experience in Minnesota, on Lake Minnetonka, with a fortuitous late December thaw followed by a hard freeze. Miles of glorious ice for shushing, sharing a knowing nod to with the other aficionados out there in the middle with their skates on!
Even now, in my "flying dreams" I rarely venture higher than five feet off the ground---I am ice skating in my slumber!
10
A lovely trip back in time, to skating up the Norwalk River's crystal-clear ice, cracking as I flew--and to a bucket list item I think I'd better skip.
I don't bounce anymore--nor do I bounce back.
But it was a pleasure to read this. Thank you.
4
"The weekend of our Boston trip, a small, good thing happened, in the midst of great sorrow:..."
Joyful to read these words and Joni's playing in your head. I recently read your beautifully written and heart wrenching love story/memoir, "The Best of Us" and was time and again amazed at your and Jim's fortitude. I kept hoping for the fairy tale happy ending your story deserved and hope Jim's spirit is with you still as you skate away on that river in Joni Mitchell's song.
Thank you for this lovely essay and for your love story.
8
There was a skating area (probably just a flooded low spot) in a park in my NJ town. We would skate (unsupervised! No snacks, or even water!) for hours, then trudge home at dusk, my feet aching and cramped after wearing figure skates for hours. (Maybe hockey skates aren’t so uncomfortable?) So much fun! And yes, I got hot cocoa when I got home.
2
Reminded me of skating on the various lakes as a child when we would visit Minneapolis in the dead of winter. Great memories. Thank you for this wonderful piece.
4
I am that skater with the orange jacket! Great article, it is fun to hear your perspective on something that also gives me great joy.
10
This is exactly what I want to do after I sell my house near the beach in San Diego and move back to Springfield, Mass. Sounds crazy but I love outdoor skating as well as cross country skiing so much that I'll give up all the great weather here and move east. Growing up I used to skate on ponds in Ohio. Thanks Joyce for your great article which I've bookmarked.
3
Skating was a skill I never developed as a child in Marshfield Vermont. The big kids seemed to skate so easily on the pond behind School street. Northwood upper pond at Goddard was another spot. I remember the crack of the ice and my fear of falling in... It does seem that if communities could organize to clear the ice, a delightful recreational activity could develop into a tradition. Would it be too hard to develop an outside Zamboni and snow plow? Too much time is spent indoors in the north. Outside sports are so delightful.
3
The Rideau Canal in Ottawa, Canada would be an ideal spot for the writer. It is over 8 kilometre romantic end to end and a lovely skate!
3
This is one of my favorite places in the world. No — my favorite place, and I routinely travel 5 hours each way from Brooklyn for one day on the lake. But I should note that the skates for rental are not speed skates, but Nordic skates, with long blades that clip into cross-country boots and allow you to easily glide over rough ice. This is one of the few places in the US where people practice this sport, and the folks at the Skate Shack are very knowledgeable and helpful, and worth a special mention, as their business, which makes skating on the lake possible for skate-less out-of-towners, is separate from the resort. Definitely worth a correction, as delicate speed skates on the rough ice of Lake Morey would end very, very badly.
11
What a beautiful essay. Just when you have read enough political news to bring on a feeling of hopelessness, you read something like this and faith is restored. Thank you, Ms Maynard.
5
Lovely article. I share your view that few things in life are as sublime as skating outdoors on natural ice.
By the way, it's a forgettable movie, but the opening sequence of "Mystery, Alaska" is one of the best 60 seconds in cinematic history - watch it if you can.
3
Careful about those cracks in the ice. I was always a fast skater back in the 60s in Kansas City. So after more than 30 years of not putting on a skate, I was living in Hanover NH and wanted to try those newfangled clap skates on Lake Morey. I got the hang of the skates pretty quickly, but was a bit too cavalier about those cracks in the ice. Going pretty fast, the front of my skate hit one of them and stopped dead. I rotated hard face first onto the ice. Nice bright lights and stars, with bloody face. I was worried about a hematoma, but a quick 30 minutes dash to Dartmouth Hitchcock hospital and CAT scan showed I was OK.
4
The authors story crosses my life in so many ways !
Born in '53 on Long Island, I spent many winter days skating on the ponds around me including a small reservoir [sump?] across the street from my house. Oh yeah, it was fenced but "somebody" cut a hole in the fence that the whole neighborhood used.
I am a clear example of the idea that, 'a kid on ice stays out of hot water'.
In HS, I went on to work & become a "rink-rat" at Long Island Arena where I got abundant ice-time. So much so that 3 of our group spent time in the NHL- not me.
After my first wife died, i moved to the Sierras. I knew noone but went to the rink which was walking distance. My first/only[?] friends came from there.
While there, i sought a hi-Sierra pond for skating, taking my X-C skies & skates over my shoulder. As reported, there was a difficulty with natural ice but those few times when conditions were just right- it was just like flying. I'm sure the tears were from the cold !!
As it was, I spent my summers in Orford NH on a family farm. On occasion we would SWIM in Lake Morey. It is clear i must complete the circle & visit in winter. Plus to visit dear old friends in the area !!!
Thank-you for sharing many memories.,,,,,, and more to come!!
31
Hah! “A kid on ice is not in hot water” was a sign at the old LI Arena I remember well. Cheers from a fellow “sump” skater from Long Island!
My new found brother captured me with his story of skating on the wide lake just outside his house in British Columbia...how the black ice reflected the stars as he skated around for hours, alone.
I longed for young legs to know what that felt like and what it looked like to skate among the stars. Your article did the same. Thanks.
18
Oh, the memories of “our” lake among Minnesota’s 10,000. For best ice, you wish for quick freezing temperatures, no wind, and, later, powder snow that you can literally blow away in one puff. Then you skate on smooth, smooth ice, looking through the blue, down to the sandy bottom (maybe a small fish!) as you introduce your young ones to the freeing feeling of unstructured skating. Stay out beyond the shadow line of the tall pine trees along the shore. Feel the low winter sunshine on your face. And the next best thing to do on to this smooth, blue ice in the sunshine is teaching little ones how to fly a kite.
18
It would be almost forty years ago, only a very few years after I had moved to Maine that my younger brother, Mik, came up for a New Year's visit.
We were to spend the eve of the holiday with friends who are my "other family."
They live above the bank of Meadow Brook in Orland, Maine. As things turned out, the brook was good (thick) clean (no snow on it) ice. Clear skies and a bright moon.
Mik was a strong hockey player in those days. An ice party was logically called for. Some aspects of the proposal were of concern to Mik. He'd never skated on natural ice. And a bonfire on the ice?!?!? "Mik, heat rises."
Meadow Brook is a slow, winding beaver brook. I guided my brother on the longest skate he'd ever taken. And wandered between the tussocks of the flooded meadow. Seeing steam rising from the top of a beaver lodge, he got to lay down and put his ear to it to hear the beavers moving around inside it.
Skating in nature is the best.
44
@Scott -- Thank you for your brief, but beautiful memoir.
8
Thank you for this piece. I love winter sports. This is definitely on my list.
9
Reminded me of skating at Clove Lakes Park on Staten Island when I was growing up in the 60s. I haven't thought of that for a million years. A lovely story.
15
I don't skate. It was the allusion to the Joni Mitchell song in the headline that made me read the article. And then I got to the part where Joyce skates on the river while waiting for an oncologist appointment for her husband. That Joni Mitchell song is one of the saddest songs I love, and I still feel the ache in the pit of my stomach thinking about Joyce in that circumstance. I'm glad she's since found some good ice.
36
This comment is exactly why I read the NYT comments. Thank you.
2
My first two years in high school I went to Lisgar Collegiate in Ottawa. We lived on Rosedale Avenue, about two or three miles away along the Rideau Canal, which is cleaned for skating in the winter. From November to March I would skate to school every morning if it hadn't snowed the night before. It was too cold to break a sweat, but a great way to wake up for school.
25
Lovely piece. I recall a few glorious days many years ago when my family went skating on Lake Shaftsbury in Vermont. We didn’t know if the lake had frozen quickly or slowly or what led to the phenomenon but the ice was as clear as glass. It seemed that at any moment you would plunge into the water. The effect was magical. Like soaring. You could clearly see fish skittering around beneath the ice. Thank you for jogging that memory.
16
I well remember the black pond ice we'd occasionally get in New York in winter. Sometimes, if it were cold enough and the wind was low/still it was completely clear and you could see the fish swimming beneath, like glass. magical.
12
I too was brought back in time by this lovely story. We had a mill pond and lace up benches and even lights on prime sections of our frozen piece of heaven. We were always on the lookout for early season black ice and our adventurous father referred to those bolts of sound echoing across the pond as safety cracks!
The author speaks to me, for years I traveled back to New England for holidays with my wife and skates in our trunk looking for the bliss of some skateable ice.
Our mill pond was fed by a stream we called the maze. In perfect conditions you could wind through the swamp and dream away on.
8
I lived in Rockaway, NYC as a child, and in the early 1960’s, part of Jamaica Bay froze over. The ice was hand cleared, bumpy and tons of fun, for the dozens of us who braved the cold for the experience of skating “wild”.
The best outdoor rink I experienced was Beaver Lake on Mont Royal, in Montreal.
Marvelous places, marvelous memories.
12
What a beautiful article - for all ice skaters who desire that feeling of flight, I'd also recommend inline skating.
After you conquer that fear of falling, it gives you that same liberating feeling. The world becomes one giant pond!
7
I live in Fairlee and the skating trail is wonderful! Skating, kicksparking, pond hockey tournaments - The lake is a wonderful resource for us and for visitors. Come on up!
15
Thank you so much for this wonderful article.
7
Your story just brightened my day as I sit on a commuter train into Boston.
17
This article brought back the absolute joy of inline skating on city streets while dodging traffic and runners, music pounding through headphones. Something about skating, be it on ice or pavement, turns feet into wings and makes the heart soar. When I found a quiet, tree-shrouded stretch of asphalt, the music was turned off and I literally flew to the sound of birdcalls and softly whirring wheels.
Skateaway. Absolute joy.
10
Audrey, the writer's daughter, taught me to skate on pond ice when she was 10 and I was 38. This sounds like heaven!
14
This brings back a flood of wonderful memories - from ice-boating to skating on brooks to first girlfriend to hockey games that only ended when the light did...
6
almost 60 years ago, skating on Lake Como (not the one in Italy) and seeing live goldfish under the ice... finding the first frozen swamp pond in late November and skating back and forth with a puck in a space about 20x15 feet...couldn't wait to get on the ice...any ice.
8
I too grew up in a lake community where we relished the days and nights of skating. Didn't matter if the ice was bumpy or smooth and black, we were there.
I also experienced the illness and death of my 58 year old husband and can't quite imagine leaving him to go.....skating.
We all react so differently to stressors in our lives.
2
I never skated as a kid, growing up in Rock Springs, Wyoming. I started in college at an outdoor rink at Undine Park in Laramie. As I parent of young children in Casper, I started to hunt the ponds on the municipal golf course for good hockey ice. Occasionally, wonderfully, on Christmas day the ice would be thick and perfect. Shovel the snow and game on. Unfortunately, wind, dirt, and sun would soon render the ice poor for hockey. Thankfully, we found NiceRink, a business that sells pond hockey rink kits. Since then, at our cabin, we enjoy perfect ice all winter long in a ridiculously beautiful mountain setting. Flying.
Thank you, Ms Maynard, for a wonderful piece.
7
When I lived on Ball Pond in New Fairfield, CT, I used to use my snowblower to clear the ice to make a square area for the hockey players, and a large circle for the figure skaters. I was a hero among the kids in the neighborhood. Fun to watch so many have a good time.
11
The last time Lake Champlain froze over about 5 years ago we went for a skate from Vermont to New York and back. We skated almost 20 miles, hearing only the wind and avoiding snow patches and pressure ridges. It's the closest you can get to walking on water. Truly a magical experience. I hope that there is another winter where the lake freezes over in its entirety.
60
Pond skating as a kid in Massachusetts meant showing up with a snow shovel after snow storms. There was no free pass on skating unless you helped all the other kids clear the ice first. It has been at least twenty years since we've had the sustained cold here in RI to skate on our ponds. I miss it.
16
Wonderful writing, part family memoir, part athletic encounter with a beautiful ethereal quality.
I’m not a skater but when I step on my eliptical machine later this morning the poetry in this piece will be playing in my mind.
13
I had one such lake experience in 1964 on a lake in south dakota. I don't even remember it's name. My husband and I got our skates on and started out across perfect ice and went until our car in the distance was only a tiny speck. I grew up skating at the town's local rink but this experience was magical!
13
This is one of the great losses of warmer winters in the Northeast...pond ice. Growing up in NJ, we skated every year. Some years, the ice would last weeks. Memories of shoveling snow to create a rink, carefully nearing an edge with thinner ice to retrieve a puck, the difficulty of playing "into the wind"...all remain crystal clear 40 years later.
Winter activities are magical. The sound of your feet on crunchy snow under a clear, moonlit sky turns your neighbor into something special...if only for a day or two.
33
When I was a child the viewing pad of the old bandstand was flooded for a rink and we'd skate to hokey tunes, rush home our cheeks aglow, skates tied together for hot chocolate to warm our hands and innards.
Thank you for reminding me of those happy memories!
7
It’s been an unusual year for skating on local lakes around Woodstock this year, what with bitter cold and snow, then warm pounding rain, then freeze again. Saturday was glorious with a thin dusting of snow almost covering the ice. Since we can’t clear miles of ice we depend on the vagaries of Mother Nature and we’re hoping tomorrow’s rain and the freeze after may give us another shot this winter.
8
One winter in northeast Pa, a light rain fell on a foot of snow, followed by a hard freeze— forming an ice crust strong enough to hold two 12-year-old girls and their skates. I’m old now, but the exhilaration of skating across fields and through woods remains a strong, magical memory.
21
@Gardener 1 I grew up in Rockland County NY in the 1960's. My father often took us skating on local lakes on weekends but one year I remember two days when neighborhood kids were able to skate from backyard to backyard on a thick crust of ice. Magical!
7
@PA Tous I also remember skating in the backyard one winter in the 60s in Rockland County, then making an igloo by stacking slabs of the thick crust. I hadn't thought of that in many years. Thanks.
5
Joyce, you made my day! I have a lifelong love of ice skating, which morphed into rollerblading when jobs took us to the paved paths around the lakes of Minneapolis. I can't wait to check out this path. Thank you!
7
I was so thrilled to see this article about skating on outdoor ice. It is so timely for me. I am a poet and I am struggling with writing a poem for my latest manuscript about skating on the park pond across from my grandmothers house when I was a little girl. I talk about the fantasy I had of skating with Hans Brinker. As an 83-year-old woman I realize that very few people would understand my reference to the story of Hans. It is a magical act. I feel a new commitment to finishing this poem, so make my day. Thanks.
28
Thank you for this beautiful story. Another serene Vermont lake to skate is Curtis Pond in Calais, in the village of Maple Corner. Idyllic.
10
“ Skating on a pond is the closest I will ever know to flight” captures the feeling perfectly. You bring back good memories for an old Vermont pond skater.
17
Beautiful! Joyce Maynard is a gem. This piece brings me back to my Massachusetts childhoods, skating on a local pond maintained by the town--we really do not fund our public services anymore. Plowing, skim coating the ice, and benches made for a great rink, surrounded by trees and crisp cold air. Hockey consumed one side, and free skating the other side, complete with moms and youngsters pushing chairs and boxes for balance. We girls practiced our spins and twirls for hours, Olympic dreams in our heads. Flying, sailing, and space flight right here, on earth!
8
Good morning Susan,
Come to Reading for the outdoor skating you describe— we still have it!
For sheer eloquence on this topic, go to YouTube and look up the performance of Robin Cousins skating "On the Frozen Pond." He will leave you speechless. He conveys a feeling sublime, beyond ordinary happiness...perfection. Unforgettable.
5
As a kid in Chicago, I used to put my skates on at home and walk across the street to Indian Boundary Park where the duck pond of summer became an ice rink in the winter. It was glorious. Occasionally the parkies missed a duck to be moved and we'd chase it, its wings clipped, around and around the island in the middle of the pond.
3
Sometimes little coincidences jump up and delight you. Just last night my wife and I were watching a documentary and we were introduced to Joyce Maynard. Then, the next morning, while scrolling down to get to the crossword her byline pops up next to this wonderful story on pond skating. After doing the crossword I came back to her story and was taken back to my early days on Gregory's Pond in Westfield, NJ. Glorious times. Thanks for the memories.
10
Thought perhaps the article was about Joni Mitchell as its title is essentially the chorus of one of her most endearing songs. Lovely article.
9
When I was a kid we lived near an abandoned railway tracks. Now it's a 'rail trail' and folks from town wander by, wearing sneakers with Vibram soles, but back then only me and my friends would wander miles down the old line, ponder the cisterns still full of water for steam engines, explore the woods and brooks nearby, then find our way home for super. We never saw an adult down there except during hunting season. Until the advent of snowmobiles. Then, when the conditions were right, the machines would come flying by with rich folk and their fancy mittens. Walking in their tracks was easier than walking through the deep snow. And, when things warmed up just a bit, and perhaps there was a misty sleety light rain, the snowmobile tracks would freeze over and I would put on my ice skates and take off. It seemed like such a great idea. I would be able to zoom across the fields, behind all of the farmhouses, deep into the countryside, in minutes. And I did. Some folks saw me and told me about their surprise as I zipped past. What they didn't realize, and I never mentioned until now, is that the ice was rough, and skating fast (had to be fast) was incredibly hard work. My legs ached the whole way. But it was fun! The wind felt just right, the speed was good, and during those moments, I was free.
16
@Wavesandbeaches -- Thank you for writing and posting this, great memories to share
I remember being a college student and reading the article Joyce Maynard wrote for the NY Times magazine section circa 1974, sitting in what looked like an impossible position (that was her in the position, not me). I got so much from that article and I've gotten much more since then. What a thoughtful, talented, and verbally lithe writer. May she continue to write long into the future.
10
Please come visit us in southcentralAlaska. Cold and dry Novembers and Decembers often leave us with miles upon miles of frozen sloughs, rivers, interconnected ponds, and lakes terminating at magical blue ice glaciers. A pair of Nordic Blades will allow you to glide right over those pesky bumps and cracks. Great vignette and almost makes me wish our snow would all blow away so that I could get back on the ice.
19
This brings back fond memories of flying across a lake in Maine frozen solid but lacking snow. Seeking the thrill of speed and putting all college muscle in for it. Occasionally the blades would find a crack in the ice with shifted elevation and the body would slide sprawled across the ice feet in the air, smile on the face, for a blissful eternity.
7
Me too a skater; last memorable one in Duluth when the western end of Lake Superior froze flat and clear with no snow. I worked in an office overlooking the lake, skating thru the lunch hour over ice so clear you could see the bottom 15' down. After work, the ice became filled with hockey players, learn-to-skate kids, crack-crack-the-whip.
Or the black ice near Richmond MN over frozen-in-place perfect maple leaf, and once a small fish. Miles and miles of flying.
11
"I wish I had a river, I could skate away on". Please remember this beautiful lyric came from the heart and soul of Joni Mitchell.
13
Beautiful imagery, a sensory delight! You brought back memories of iceskating on the cold, quiet, Rairtan River in New Jersey where I was raised; ponds blackened from deep winter freezes in Connecticut, Nantucket, and Vermont; and as child, on the craggy-ist puddles. Yes, it IS the closest feeling to flying--face to the sun, wind grazing red-tipped ears, arms outstretched with mitten tipped fingers.Nothing like it in the whole world.
8
i grew up in westchester across from a pond on a golf course, some of my greatest winter memories are skating upon it. sadly, it never gets warm enough anymore to do so.
2
Beautiful. For years, in Calgary (Alberta, Canada) the 1970s & '80s, I skated every New Year's Eve on natural ice on the city's Bowness Lagoon.
Although a city parks crew cleared the lagoon, it was the same cracked and buckled ice that Joyce described. A bit of an equalizer for me, as it was what I was used to, but local hotshots usually skated on Zamboni-smooth rinks.
Bowness Lagoon may even have inspired the Joni Mitchell song; I believe Ms. Mitchell lived in Calgary for a few years on her way up.
Thanks too, for the reminder that simple physical activities can help to ground us in grief, and after loss. Skate away from it, Joyce. You go.
39
Oh a delight! I have warm memories of outdoor skating on local ponds in Westchester when it used to get cold enough for municipalities to flag when it was safe to skate. I’ll have to plan a trip to VT.
14
Perfection for this old Canadian hockey player. This is heaven.
29
What a lovely article. Thanks!
67
"Recent book, new novel, undergrad at Yale". Skating fit. Few alive would have any inkling of the life and of the person of this woman. Young women especially would do well to read her and delve into this woman's way of being. As skating has been a continuity for her, her occasional appearance in the pages of The Times has been one for me. The first was in Lester Markel's Sunday Magazine over sixty years ago. It is good for your emotional well being to have continuities. Memory integration and personality stability likely benefit. Meet her in her books. She is there.
47
it actually wasn't 60 years ago. It was the fall of 1971! We are not THAT old!
14
Sounds like you have found the perfect spot to skate in New England! I look forward to trying it sometime. For another skater who has the same search, but further afield, check out Laura Kottlowski.
7
Lovely! We have cleared a rink on our little Michigan lake, and a skating path will be next. You are welcome to glide over anytime.
23
@WW Blue Where in MI?? We are in SW Ontario and always on the lookout for a place to speed skate on natural ice!
Open air ice and the freedom to glide is pure bliss, a quietude and the surest feel of grace l know. In today’s crazy upside down it was a calm much needed. Thank you for reminding me.
18
“One thing about packing depressed me a little. I had to pack these brand-new ice skates my mother had practically just sent me a couple of days before. That depressed me. I could see my mother going in Spaulding’s and asking the salesman a million dopy questions—and here I was getting the ax again. It made me feel pretty sad. She bought me the wrong kind of skates—I wanted racing skates and she bought hockey—but it made me sad anyway. Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.”
4
@Ano Sorry for the pall upon you. Maynard's woman's life in the world that was and largely still is should have ruined her life and crippled her. A me too experience, public contumily, two good partners given and taken, roads traveled and ones not taken. We are all the descendants of survivors, of strong resilient, persisting, life living self maintaining women. We have it in us. Read her. Be her too.
4
@Anonie This is an example of why I never felt that I understood Holden Caulfield. He was such a downer. I was always more like Joyce Maynard - in love with Hans Brinker's world. I'm putting the Lake Morey Resort on my bucket list. I'll be sure to pack the correct kind of skates.
2
Beautiful reflection. Not a skater, but share your theme song. I may now imagine your elderly couple with their sail whenever I hear it, as a less solitary soundtrack now.
19
My youth included a few years in Rhode Island where my sister and I, and occasionally even our mother, would ice skate on either of two ponds that we’re at the end of the road on which we lived. Rhode Island of all places! The warming climate has put an end to skating and racing and playing with other kids on ice, and dreamily practicing twirls and spins and skating backwards, in Rhode Island anyhow. This author has brought back those memories and the aching pain of frozen toes thawing in front of the fireplace. Brings a smile to my face.
I, too, am glad those NH parents are outside with their own kids, learning how to play in the ice and snow.
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If you swap out your blades for wheels, you won’t have to range so far to find places to skate. There’s plenty of fine asphalt in New Haven.
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"I wish I had some asphalt to rollerblade away on" is definitely not the feeling that Joni Mitchell was trying to get across.
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@Ellen Bulger
Agree. On Cape Cod the ponds or cranberry bogs rarely freeze over safe enough to skate these days. But we have a beautiful 40 mile long rail trail for biking and in line skating (my preference). In July and August it gets crowded, especially on weekends. But otherwise it is a glorious place for finding that bliss of moving along near effortlessly amidst a park like setting. Modern in line skates with big wheels and space age bearings come very close to replicating the near perpetual motion like feeling of gliding over ice. Every winter skater should try them.
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@Ellen Bulger Nothing like skating on smooth ice... nothing!
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Ohh good morning, Joyce!
Being 3 years and 3 days younger than you, my first memory of reading your work in the Times was when I was in high school and you were in college. Astounded by your talent, I was hoping to find more writing and thrilled to follow your writing gift.
Now, today, it's great to wake up early in NH today and see your newest article- Thank you for another wonderful read.
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Joyce Maynard and I are exactly the same age .We were born in 1953.I remember when her New York Times Magazine cover story " An 18 year old looks back at life".was published.
In 1971,just beginning at NYU, I even had several poems published innmagazines. But when I saw Joyce's cover story article in the New York Times Magazine- I just thought how lucky she was!
I have followed her career ever since. And I wish her lots of happiness and good luck in the future.
Allso it's nice to know that she quotes Joni Mitchell- as we did all did back then . Joni Mitchell always put into words what young girls were feeling in their hearts and could not say with enough panache.
Joyce Maynard always says everything with enough heart - and panache.
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Thank you, thank you. This made my heart sing and will have me arranging some travel plans for VT. I too have spent my life looking for a river to skate away on. I can't wait!
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Terrific essay about the magic of skating.
Joyce Maynard's beautiful words on the page are as uplifting as skating on smooth ice.
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This wonderful essay brought back so many beautiful memories for me. The most obvious one was that on the orchard where I grew up, the pond we built for irrigation also served as a skating pond during the winter. We would invite our Quaker meeting out for skating and sledding after meeting one Sunday each winter, and the pond and orchards were alive with laughter.
But I was also touched by the description of youth hockey. It reminded me that the first time I smiled after the death of my wife Katie -- months after -- was when I took my teen son to a soccer game, and the five-year olds were playing on an adjacent field.
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Great story and growing up in Western Massachusetts my childhood skating up until college was on ponds - we waited for the black ice, that first clear, safe beautiful welcoming of the skating season which usually extended until mid late February. Where I lived there was a large pond that had provided public skating for decades. Replete with a warming hut with snacks and drinks and a big old wood stove. The town cleared the pond after snow and flooded it with a skim coat so cracks were remedied. One area contained a hockey rink with boards and wooden goals provided for by the town, and pond hockey (more like mayhem) prevailed on one section of the pond. Before the proliferation of indoor rinks the pond hockey scene saw an array of talent come and go over the years I played there - some guys later played in college and at a semi-pro level, some earned their moment of glory on a chilly Sunday afternoon by stuffing in a screen shot. No helmets, an odd array of equipment and Northland Pro sticks which cost a few bucks. Indoor rinks, climate change and the passage of time have all but eliminated pond skating on the scale it was and shall never be again in many regions. So thanks for a neat article and I may just head up to Lake Morey where we sometimes went for summer vacations but this time I'll bring my skates.
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@Horseshoe Crab
Well written memories Horseshoe Crab, thank you.
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