January 8, 2008

Lake Nockamixon

Kayak a Daiquiri

(shot with Sony DSC-S85)
(view other photo essays)

Eight days into the new year, the Jet Stream brought us an astonishing 65 degree day. I'd been watching the weather reports and pre-planned to take a day off work. So, while New Hampshire's voters went to the polls to vote in their primary election, I grabbed the mango Tsunami (that I will hereafter christen "Lassi.") and headed back to Lake Nockamixon. Even though the air was a balmy 65 degrees, I made sure to dress for a worst-case dunking. The water would be cold, I told myself. So I packed a dry-bag with a full change of clothing and decided to cruise the most familiar and safest water I knew. I decided on the Haycock boat ramp at the north end of the lake. I thought I might head back up Haycock creek. For all my forethought, I wasn't prepared for what I would find!

A familiar destination.






I ate my lunch on the shore and, aside from water,
didn't take along any extra baggage. Spare paddle and
paddle float in case of capsize.

I had new neoprene socks and gloves; I should have tested them
beforehand. Both proved to not be waterproof!



The purple line here describes the first third of my journey.



Here's my '92 Honda sporting the awesome Thule J-cradle racks
I scored off an Overstock.com auction for half retail!



The warm weather inspired a lot of people to head for the lake.
Most of them early-on were dog walkers; Although there were
more than a few motorcyclists.

Although the water was cold, my several layers of synthetic clothing
kept me nice and toasty-warm.


Before I got very far, however, I started to feel a certain resistance
to the water. A kind of brittleness; like Saltines or thin styrofoam.

I couldn't figure it out at first, but you can see quite clearly in this
and the following picture: Some of that water is not moving.



There wasn't much wildlife in evidence. A few birds very far away.
I caught this guy in flight:



Before long, it became quite clear what was wrong.
I was plowing through sheets of ice
on the surface of the water.
At first it was paper-thin, almost imperceptible.




Then the ice became thicker.





And still thicker.




Before long, I was having to chop with my paddle.
I had barely gotten under the 563 bridge — nowhere near the scenic lakefront house,
much less Haycock creek up yonder — when I had to turn around.


Back in the deeper waters off Haycock landing, the water,
mostly, was in its liquid state. I decided to keep heading South.


The orange line, here, describes the next third of my journey.



You can't see it well, it's against the sun on a low-contrast,
wintery-gray day, but this is the flood-control tower that sits
behind the dam that forms Lake Nockamixon.

Several times a year, they open this gate and
about nine miles downstream a bunch of whitewater
enthusiasts go nuts on the lower Tohickon creek.





I had never explored the cove off to the east of the dam,
so that's where I headed.

What I found was too weird for words.

A fairly good wind whips up the length of the lake
making respectable waves in the main body
above the dam. These waves wash into the cove
with some energy.



Here, you can see the same kind of icing as before,
but the waves create an active boundary layer
of chipped ice as the water moves up and down,
back and forth.




It was like kayaking in a frozen daiquiri!




Beyond the particulate ice, a thicker layer
lay in smooth, undisturbed sheets.


All of this floating, colliding ice made an insistent,
high-frequency chatter. It sounded like cicadas at first.

To hear for yourself, Click Here.
(note: this MPEG movie shows my arm because I was pointing
the microphone (on the top of the camera for some reason),
at the ice. This is an audio-only movie!)


Here you can see a little bit of the wave action. I had thought
I might head down the lake, but prudence and all that ice-cold water
argued in favor of staying safe and dry.


So I headed back north again, toward the Haycock landing.



The green line shows the third and final leg of my journey.
By now I had been out about 2 hours and the day was still
warming up. I'd say it was about 1:30.





Since I had been out, several fishermen had appeared.



This view, on the north side of the 563 bridge, looks
quite a bit different that last time!
The ice seems to have receeded dramatically.


Off to the left, behind a row of trees, mighty
Haycock mountain looms.


I got maybe half-way to the house before encountering
ice again. As before, it was easy to crunch through
at first. Then it got harder.
Then it got scary.



So here I am retracing my zig-zag path,
trying to take advantage of the broken ice
to ease my passage.

As I was headed back to the landing for
the fourth and final time, I was treated
to a hawk ballet.

First two...





Then three...




Finally, six that I could count.

It was now past 2:30 and, much as I wanted
to stay out, I knew the sun would be dropping
below the horizon and I had a long drive
through early rush-hour traffic.

But as I headed in, the other boaters were just
coming out. This guy had a really nice
fiberglass canoe.









As I was leaving, a guy in camoflage showed up with
a green Pamlico 135T — they call the color "Spruce."
I watched him for while unloading and fixing to launch.
When he hauled a shotgun out of his van and loaded it
into the boat, I decided maybe I had seen enough.
I don't know what kind of threat he expected,
no sharks or 'gators call Nockamixon home.

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