Ice Skating on Braidwood Lakes

 “Hearts shall dance once again; when canvas of ice is painted with the brush of skates.”  Shah Asad Rizvi 

Winters in Braidwood were tolerable in my pre-teens and teen years partly because of the recreation opportunities that I took for granted for a long time. The snow was an occasion for building forts, snowballing passing cars, and sledding down strip mine hills. Zero temperatures created opportunities for ice-skating on the strip mine pits which were 40 to 50 feet deep

Snow Was a Challenge

The best times to skate were in January and February, and during winters that didn’t yet have much snowfall. Once the snow was on the ice, skating was restricted to patches where it could be removed; usually pretty hard work for even a small space. Larger areas could be cleared by dad’s tractor if the ice was at least 10 to 12 inches deep. I am still amazed that dad had the courage to take his tractor onto these deep pits. 

Without much snow on the ice, however, skating was glorious. During the day, we would glide effortlessly over most vast stretches of the smooth surface, with strides that covered lengths that could only be imagined. Coats were shed, and bodies were kept warm mostly by the exercise, stocking caps, scarves, and gloves. Long underwear also helped.

During the dark of the early winter evenings, skating was more than magnificent. It was magical and nearly mystical, with a full moon and a huge bonfire replacing the sun’s warmth. The stillness of the night was broken only by the slicing sound of blades against the ice surface and by the rush of cold air against our faces. Silhouettes of skaters, trees that lined the edges of the pits, and moonlight shadows on the ice flashed by as we strode, crossed over, and skated backwards.

Parents Were Skaters

Dad was a pretty good skater, and our mom learned when she was in her 30’s. Dad told stories of his Dutch mother who could skate long, ballet like strides on the frozen ditches on their farm. My brother was also a good skater, but my sister may have been the best of all of us. Dad like to brag about how good she was.

All my Braidwood friends seem to be good skaters. I still can close my eyes and see Colin, Marty, Killer, and Carole Ann, gliding, and sometimes laughing as we jumped over logs placed as obstacles and over air holes that sometimes kept certain areas of the strip my pits from freezing over. They added a little more excitement to our day, and, fortunately, no one ever fell in.

Environmental Changes?

According to most climate scientists, the earth’s temperature is rising a degree or so. Could my father, if he were alive, risk driving his tractor onto an ice-covered strip mine pit today? Do people routinely ice skate at the BRC in January and February?