Ice bashing is a great sport. To ice bash, one carries a basher (a heavy stick will do) to the edge of a frozen lake or pond. One approaches the edge cautiously since sliding down and out onto the ice can be hazardous. At -5°, getting wet in the water by breaking through the ice is definitely unpleasant and can result in loss of limb or life. One gets down on the belly and reaches down to give the ice a vigorous blow, hoping for a satisfying crack and appearance of liquid water.
My great-grandson is an energetic 10 yr. old and has been a fan of ice bashing for several years. I like wading through 3 or 4 feet of snow with him. He approaches the precarious slope of the edge cautiously, having witnessed my falling through the ice up to my chest a couple of years ago. Yesterday, he dressed in his high boots, heavy snow pants and jacket and wore a hat and gloves. In that sort of cold, you have to dress appropriately to be at all comfortable and safe.
I had just picked him up from school and I had no idea as I left the house to get him that his enthusiasm for taking up again one of his favorite winter activities would appear. He is a sweetie but as a male, he gets all hepped up to do whatever it is NOW! As we entered the warm garage in the warm car on the way into the comfortable house, he asked if by any lucky chance I would be interested in going to bash ice NOW. I didn't want to disappoint him or put him off even a little so I said OK.
It wasn't all that bad until we reached the deep snow and simply had to wade through it to get to the ice. However, in that snow, it became quickly apparent that the total cold that was freezing my ankles with only a thin dress sock between the snow and the skin I have learned to like, was serious and not to be taken lightly. He reached the edge and bashed. The ice was much too thick for a nice break and just showed little dents. Meanwhile, my ankles are screaming," Alarm! Alarm!" I knew I dare not wait too long to go back to the car. I explained my problem and he took the shortening of our trip calmly. A little too calmly. He kept bashing and looking for a better site. I knew it was way too dangerous to leave him and I wouldn't and couldn't. Thankfully, his energy faded and we both fought our way back to the car.My great-grandson is an energetic 10 yr. old and has been a fan of ice bashing for several years. I like wading through 3 or 4 feet of snow with him. He approaches the precarious slope of the edge cautiously, having witnessed my falling through the ice up to my chest a couple of years ago. Yesterday, he dressed in his high boots, heavy snow pants and jacket and wore a hat and gloves. In that sort of cold, you have to dress appropriately to be at all comfortable and safe.
I had just picked him up from school and I had no idea as I left the house to get him that his enthusiasm for taking up again one of his favorite winter activities would appear. He is a sweetie but as a male, he gets all hepped up to do whatever it is NOW! As we entered the warm garage in the warm car on the way into the comfortable house, he asked if by any lucky chance I would be interested in going to bash ice NOW. I didn't want to disappoint him or put him off even a little so I said OK.
I am pretty sure he did not really grasp how afraid I actually was. As I think about his concentration on his desires and goals, his interests and excitements, I wonder what transpired between my parents or between my grandparents or in other situations during my life when I was oblivious to fear, greed, rousing cheer or deep sadness without grasping what was going on inside others around me.
