Raking Ice
Its that time of year when the Colorado River begins its transition from a frozen, icebound popsicle back to a singing, flowing ribbon of life. Of course, the river never stopped moving, and life was always there, but its out of sight and its easy to forget. Out of sight, out of mind. Soon it will be warm enough to keep the windows open, and be serenaded by the constant music the river provides.
Winter isn’t quite done yet, and the mountains are still blanketed in a thick coat of the white gold that we’ll all be reaping the benefits of for the rest of the year. The powder snow we ski on in February, becomes the whitewater we splash through in June, becomes the water that we and trout swim in come summer. Snow is the gift that keeps on giving.
Its Leap Day 2024 as I write this, and its been as good of a winter as one could hope for given our warming climate. The snowpack on the Upper Colorado River basin is sitting at 100% of average, and an “average” year in the Colorado Rockies is better than a good year just about anywhere else. The river in my backyard froze up well this year, which made for some great skating. The surface I kept clear was over 300’ long, and 25’ wide. The labrador puppies we had a year ago enjoyed their first winter season, and loved being out on the ice almost as much as I do. We play a version of hockey which consists of me flipping the puck almost the length of the ice, with them chasing it down in a pack. The first dog to the puck is not always the one that catches it though. They usually end up in a big crashing pile, and when they turn around and race back I produce a second puck which I send back to the other end of the ice, and we repeat the process. I don’t know how many times those four beautiful dogs and I went up and down the length of the ice this winter, but it was a great way to spend time and get some exercise.
But as much fun as it is turning the Colorado River into an ice rink during the winter, at either end it can have a dark side. In the fall when the ice is forming, and in the spring when it melts, the river can be very dangerous. Fifteen years ago, a dog of ours named Piper went through the ice in a spot that I had walked on myself the day before. Once the ice begins to melt, it disappears very quickly. When Piper broke through, I broke through twice myself trying to get her out. If you've never broken through ice and fallen into the water below, I wouldn't recommend trying it. Being the sole member of an unplanned Polar Plunge Club isn't that much fun. I ended up jumping into the river a third time when I saw her lifeless body emerge from under the ice shelf, being carried away by the current. That was one the worst days of my life, so now once the ice begins to melt the backyard becomes a “No Go” zone for the dogs, at least until all of the ice is gone. The dogs don’t know better, and until its safe out there they can’t understand why they can’t go out to play in their own personal Labrador Paradise.
Once the ice starts to get soft in the spring, I try to hasten the process of getting it gone. It makes me a bit sad to see my rink go, knowing that its been the source of so many hours of fun. But the sooner its gone, the sooner we can start having new kinds of fun. The dogs love to swim as much as they love chasing pucks, and I get to keep my boat out there all year to row and fish from. If I wait for Mother Nature to take her course, it might take a week or two for that enormous ice slab to melt away. But with a little help, I can usually shorten that duration to a day or two. All it takes is to cut a path in the ice along the bank to where the slab is connected. Once water can flow between the ice and the bank, it doesn’t take long for that separation to grow. On warm days, in the afternoons the river rises, and lifts the slab up. So on Sunday, I put on my neoprene waders and spent a couple of hours with a pick axe and rake, whaling the hell out of the ice. The rake is one that we inherited with the property, its pretty ancient and unlike any I’ve ever seen. Its too wimpy to actually move dirt and rocks with, but for moving ice in the river its perfect.
I start by chopping away the lower end of the slab, then using the rake to drag the broken pieces downstream into the flow. The key is to get the water moving in the channel I create, and let the flow work its magic. Chop chop chop rake, chop chop chop rake, and repeat until there is a flowing path all the way up the bank. If anyone happened by and saw me at my task, it would’ve made for an odd site. I was undoubtedly the only person standing in the Colorado River raking ice that day, or on any day. But by late in the afternoon the task was completed, and now there was nothing to do but wait.
On Monday morning, I went out to check the river before going to work, and saw that a thin layer of ice had reformed. So I got the rake back out, and broke that thin layer of ice, which was a lot easier than it had been the previous day. When I got home that evening, the entire sea of ice we’d been enjoying all winter was gone, and the river was restored. One of my wife’s employees saw it go, and said that it looked like an enormous island of ice as it drifted away. In past years, I’ve gotten to see huge slabs break off, and been tempted to jump on and go for my first river ride of the season. But for this year, I was content to come home and see that the Colorado flowing through my backyard again. Another river season has begun, and the cycle of life and of seasons continues. There’s a healthy snowpack above just waiting to melt and flow downhill to bring it all back to life. The dogs and I can’t wait!
Jack Bombardier
