Ice out records 1945 to 2012: Little Rideau Lake
March 22, 2013
The record is kept by Lucille Mulville, the matriarch of the family farm at the head of the lake in Westport. It appeared in the March 21, 2013 issue of The Review-Mirror. It’s just too valuable not to distribute online, so here goes.
Rod
Update, 5 April, 2019: The following ice-out dates are for Newboro Lake.
2013 April 16; 2014 April 26; 2015 April 19; 2016 March 31; 2017 April 10
Best wishes,
Rod Croskery
Ice Reports, 2010-11
December 18, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010:
So it begins. From Hwy 15 in Portland today I could see snow covering the ice out as far as visibility allowed. The snow appeared to reach the large islands in the middle of the lake, though this may have been an illusion. One enterprising soul has placed an ice fishing shack out in the wide, shallow bay next to the park/boat launch ramp to the east of the village.
On Otter Lake I could see open water in the middle of the pool nearest the road, and open water in the larger pool to the northeast.
I’ll copy this post to a page which will appear on the right margin of my website. Updates will be there.
A disquieting view from Chaffey’s Locks
August 11, 2009
This evening we continued a 40-year ritual when I took my bride to The Opinicon for her birthday dinner. The grounds were as exquisite as ever. The oaks on this lot must be some of the largest in Ontario, and as well kept as those in Cataraqui Cemetery, another favourite tree-hugging destination.
But it was way too quiet around the Opinicon for August. It looks like a carefully-tended ghost town. That’s an oxymoron, I guess. Most cottages had no cars around them. Only a few spaces in the parking lot were taken. The dock was a quarter full. The dining room echoed. I’d think ten percent of the spaces were occupied. Yet the food and service were good. That’s not the cause.
At the store we asked. “Where have all of the Americans gone?” The answer lies in the exchange rate. At the moment the premium on the U.S. dollar is only 3 cents. The counter lady told me that when it drops below fifteen cents on the dollar they start cancelling. But this time some cancellations were because of lost jobs. There are a lot of desperate people out there who simply can’t come to Canada on vacation this year.
Sheltered by our trees and pensions, we’ve been cut off from the desperation of those around us so that we only notice when they are no longer there.
So another historic eating place is in danger. I wonder if local diners could help out? The fillet mignon was great, and prices are more than reasonable. Go have a meal in Chaffey’s Locks! We can’t let The Opinicon sink because of a bad year. Otherwise where would I take Bet for next year’s birthday dinner?
More trouble with Daphne
July 4, 2009
In an email retired MNR guy Brian Anderson suggested I protect my walnut seedlings by putting out a blood-scented bait to scare the deer out of the field. Opening day of bass season produced a supply of fish carcasses, so I placed them around the field, producing immediate results: within a couple of hours the fish-heads were widely dispersed as though a litter of coyote puppies had played with them. From then on I saw no more damage to the seedlings in the back field.
Then came the episode with the spotted fawn E. T.’s visit to our orchard last Sunday. Yesterday morning over my pancakes I watched E.T. and Daphne’s Mom grazing in the neighbour’s soybean field, about six hundred yards away. Fine. No problem.
This morning after a heavy rain I looked over the walnut fields on the way to the woodlot, then settled into a casual mushroom tour on the Ranger. I picked three different types of oysters, one in quantity, so now I need to determine if the things are edible.
On the way back to the house I looked down into the new 5 acre patch of seedlings, and there was Daphne, cheerfully munching on one of the priceless blight-resistant plants the butternut people entrusted to my care. Yelling and waving my Tilley, I gunned the Ranger to the rescue across the 700 feet to the culprit and her victim.
Daphne was not impressed by my wild west routine. She simply retreated into the tall hay about a hundred feet, turned and stared blankly at me. I stopped by tree #WP92-23 and shut the machine off. If you’re interested, #23 is located at
N44.39.720′
W76.13.561
441′
She raised her eyes and ears above the hay, looked at me and my Ranger, and slowly started to walk toward us. Again, she walked up to about forty feet from me, licked her lips, chewed her cud a bit, and looked quite frustrated that I had put myself between her and her breakfast. It doesn’t seem to matter to Daphne that the whole world around her is green with potential food for a deer at this time of year. When she sets her taste buds on one particular tree, that’s the one she intends to eat.
She tried several circles downwind of the Ranger. My one-sided conversation with her seemed more to intrigue than frighten her. Growing a bit tired of the standoff, I tried dismounting from the Ranger to give her a scare. She just did her gallop-into-the-tall-hay bit, then turned around and returned, tail held high, and gleaming in the sunlight from the dew on her flanks.
She’s a beautiful animal, but I couldn’t notice how, while walking in silhouette in the hay, she has moves a lot like a young Michael Jackson in his early dance steps. That jerky, but fluid step?
So we’ve established that Daphne has a very strong will, fixates on a particular plant that she wants to eat at that time, has some decent dance moves, and that she’s also not very afraid of me. The fact remains that she’s poised to damage a priceless bit of the Canadian genetic heritage, and the only way I could get her to give up on her breakfast in time for me to return for mine, was by running after her across a five-acre field until she eventually gave up and ducked into the woodlot to await my departure.
I guess the only solution will be to bait the butternut seedlings with fish heads and hope she develops a taste for Glen Baker’s soybeans. Time to go fishing. Now that’s a plan. Thanks, Brian.
UPDATE: July 11/2009
Another encounter with Daphne went somewhat better for both of us. When I came upon her she was firmly ensconced in the middle of my neighbour’s wheat field. She looked up at my approach, froze, and stared me down until I grew bored and drove away. Hey, she’s not eating my nut trees, so what’s the harm? Hope you enjoy the wheat, Daphne.
The Heroic Winter Assault on Schooner Island
January 4, 2009
The photo shows four people stuffed into snowmobile suits, mitts and helmets, standing along the edge of a frozen lake and leaning on a pair of old snowmobiles. The shot could have been taken anytime, but in fact it is only a couple of years old. It marked the final winter expedition to the cottage on Schooner Island. That’s right. Never again. Both our wives insisted.
But the trip had gone well; it’s just that the weather changed a bit.
Tom and Kate get homesick for their cottage on the Island during the winter, and I can tell by the frequency of emails and phone calls about when the pressure will become unbearable for Tom, and up they will come. Much planning is required: ice reports are filtered through runoff records to determine if the ice is strong enough for a passage across Newboro Lake to the Island.
A few years ago in a fit of optimism I asked a snowmobile collector to locate me a serviceable Ski Doo Alpine, the two track, single ski behemoth which crowned the Bombardier line for many years. From the first time I drove it the thing intimidated me: I could barely pull the starter cord on the monstrous engine. It refused to turn without running into something. Its suspension ignored my considerable weight, and only rode smoothly if I had a full oil drum on the back. But it would float over any depth of snow, and could it ever pull!
Not to be outdone, Tom found a 1970 Evinrude Skeeter, also with reverse, which had been kept in its owner’s living room in Ohio since it was new.
Tom and I decided to run out to the island without wives or luggage to make sure the ice was strong enough to support us. Tom’s machine made a ghastly racket at its maximum speed of 25 miles per hour. The Alpine is actually a lot faster than that, so I had to idle along to let him keep up. Then Tom spun out on the ice. This looked pretty funny, but the third time the machine flipped, tossing Tom clear and rolling until it had divested itself of its windshield. Chastened, Tom made the rest of the trip at a more modest pace.
Back at the SUVs we discovered far too much luggage to load onto the little sled I had brought, so Tom took it and I hitched the 5 X 8 trailer to the Alpine. Down the ramp we went with everything but the kitchen sink in the trailer.
As long as the shore was nearby, our wives’ morale was high. As we pulled out into the open lake, though, and the only reference points became the large bubbles of air just beneath the black, transparent ice, I began to notice a persistent vibration coming from the rear of the Alpine. It didn’t vary with engine revolutions or speed. In fact the shaking continued when we’d stopped. Bet was shivering. This did not bode well, but we were over half-way there, so on we went.
The cold-weather camping was good fun at the cottage, and then the morning dawned to a five-inch drop of slushy snow, with clouds and wind which indicated more on the way. Yikes! The trailer!
The retreat from Schooner Island occurred more quickly than our hosts would have liked, but we had to get off the ice. With the wide track of the trailer I would have to maintain a steady speed until we hit dry land, or we’d be stuck.
We tossed the luggage into the snow-filled trailer, Bet clamped her arms around my waist, and I gingerly urged the rig along the shoreline until we had gained enough momentum to brave the deeper snow.
With a roar the Alpine hit cruising speed, and the next three miles was quite a ride. The open lake alternated between hard portions of frozen snow and liquid puddles of goo. We plunged straight through them. I didn’t dare look back.
Down the lake we went and up the ramp. Newboro had never looked so good. The Alpine shut down with a grateful sigh; I pried Bet’s arms free and staggered off the machine. She still sat there. When I knocked on her helmet, an eye opened through the frosted visor and she gradually became aware that we had arrived.
She pawed at the visor a couple of times with her mitt. I helped her open it and remove her helmet. “I … will … never … do … that … AGAIN!”
I’d sorta expected that, so I checked the load behind. Nope, nothing there but a snowbank which had somehow slid up the ramp and into the parking lot behind us.
Tom couldn’t get over the remarkable turn of speed the Alpine had shown on the trip across the lake. “We were following in your track, but your machine was just a dwindling yellow dot, with a great big snowball forming behind it!”
Perhaps the governor on the huge Rotax engine responded to the weight it was pulling, or maybe the beast just sensed its master’s panic and ran for it, but the Alpine has never gone that fast since, and perhaps it’s just as well.
Drive-by Ice Reports
November 26, 2008
March 20, 2009: We finished sheeting the dock in Newboro this morning, and none too soon. Yesterday’s task was to haul 150 2 X 6″ planks across 100′ of ice to the dock frame. Walking was generally solid in the open, but we had to build a bridge of planks near shore. Beneath the piles the ice was weak in some places, non-existent in others. A cutoff from a 3 X 14″ pine plank went right through apparently solid ice when it was dropped about three feet and hit on a corner. Nevertheless, the ice held out long enough for us to complete the dock.
Vehicles on the ice now in this area? Crazy.
Would I still walk on it? Yes, with precautions against falling through.
March 4, 2009: We’ve spent the last two days driving pilings for my friend’s new dock on Newboro Lake. The ice is strong and thick out from shore, though I put a foot through at one point as I moved from the sloping ice on shore to the flat part. Water levels seem to have dropped steadily over the last two weeks. We had to deal with top water on the ice because a neighbouring boathouse’s bubbler seems to come on in mid-afternoon, pumping its flow onto the ice above. Nevertheless we were able to work with three tractors and a couple of trucks on the ice in fairly close proximity and there was no sign of movement in the ice. Two of the posts we sank partially the day before were frozen so solidly into the ice that we couldn’t break them out today, even though we pounded on them repeatedly with the bucket of an 85 hp tractor. Unless we had left the piles on bedrock the afternoon before and not realized it, the grip of the ice on those 5 1/2″ steel posts remains a mystery.
February 20, 2009: Newboro Lake shows consistent, thick, hard ice anywhere that I have drilled a hole over the last two weeks. This can change quickly, but at the moment I feel comfortable driving my truck on familiar sections of the lake. Last week I explored Clear Lake and the Scott Island bays of Newboro Lake with my Utility Vehicle, and found the same ice depth wherever I drilled. I’ve seen open water in the middle of Clear and up into the Elbow too often for me to trust the ice in the current, though.
February 9, 2009: Yesterday’s attempt to fish on Newboro Lake left everyone with very wet feet, due to the six inches of slush which covered the harbour area. Only one determined crew drove their SUV out to an ice shack. A brief jaunt onto The Big Rideau at Portland showed that the crust of new ice over the slush was only about an inch deep. I retreated to shore as soon as it cracked under my 1000-pound vehicle.
February 6, 2009: A drive around to ice fishing hotspots today yielded discouraging news. According to snowmobilers Brad and Danny Wilson of Chaffey’s Locks, virtually no lakes are currently travelable away from plowed tracks because of slush and deep snow. I drilled two holes on Newboro Lake and one on The Big Rideau and all showed ice deeper than 24″, but the snow accumulation is such that only snowmobiles can travel freely, and they are at great risk of getting mired in patches of slush. While driving on a plowed track on Newboro Lake today I felt my truck wobbling in a manner consistent with a vehicle on very thin ice — I must have passed over a large puddle of slush beneath a crust of hard ice. Surely enough, I soon came upon the tracks of a previous vehicle which had broken through the thin ice into the slush below, but presumably had had enough momentum to regain the surface. I parked close to shore and walked part-way back to the danger zone to drill a hole, but I hit only solid ice where I drilled. The Big Rideau seemed solid on its well-established ice roads, but I didn’t go off them. There were no fish. Neither were there any recent tracks on Indian or Rock Lakes, save for some foot traffic close to the cottages on Rock. Buck and Devil Lakes, as well, have virtually no tracks from traffic. A lone cross country skier set out onto Devil Lake without difficulty.
JANUARY 27, 2007: I spoke to a snowmobiler today who claimed to have recently hit 90 miles per hour on Upper Beverley Lake on good snow conditions. He heard that a party traveling the Upper Rideau got into ten inches of slush above the ice, though. That got my attention.
JANUARY 25, 2009: From the Rideau Ferry Bridge I noticed a lot of ice fishing activity on the Lower Rideau out off Knoad’s Point, so I continued on to Beveridge Lockstation to check for access to the lake. The messages on shore were ambivalent: a road has been plowed to leave a bare-ice route out onto the lake, but a sign posted where the snowmobiles go on said, “Open water in middle: keep to the eastern part of the bay.” The message wasn’t dated, but was well written and in good condition.
On the other side of the Rideau Ferry Bridge I saw a road plowed out onto the main part of the Lower Rideau. There were no tracks of any sort running beneath the bridge with its currents, though.
I noticed at Port Elmsley and again at Chaffey’s Locks yesterday that they’re running a lot of water at the moment. My heart was in my mouth as I watched three nimrods on snowmobiles crossing very close to the open water on Opinicon Lake. Ski Doos and wintering swans definitely should not mix.
JANUARY 19, 2009: To judge by the vehicular activity on The Big Rideau now there must be lots of ice. I haven’t drilled a hole lately, but before the frigid week just ended I found just over a foot of ice in a sheltered bay on Newboro Lake.
Google seems to prefer this article’s address to the one I’ve kept updated. Sorry.
December 26, 2008 The Big Rideau and Otter Lake are frozen as far as I can see from the road, but I haven’t seen any tracks on the ice. Generally there’s lots of evidence of movement around the edges of the harbours, but not this year.
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I encourage you to post your observations. Be sure to identify the location from which you have observed the lake or river in question.
the Walnut Diary 