By Mitch Lee
It was early March of 1976 and Dorothy Hamill was on television winning the Ladies Figure Skating Championships at the Winter Olympic Games in Gothenburg, Sweden.
While it was a great feat, I was not terribly excited as it was infringing on my ability to watch college basketball.
With only one television and three channels—two of which were very poor and snowy—I decided I would rather skate out on the lake than watch skating on the tube.I grabbed a few pairs of skates from the selection that hung on the walls of the cellar stairway.
I tried on three pairs before finding a set that did not make my toes hurt or heels swim.
My dog Mutt and I were soon on our way down to the lake with a red runner sled in tow.
The snow was worn away in the middle of the road revealing some blacktop.
But the hill down to the lake still had good coverage for about three feet on either side for the runners to glide on.
As I sat down on the sled Mutt decided she wanted to ride all the way to the bottom too and crawled up on my lap. I grabbed the rope in one hand and dragged the skates in the other.
At first we inched forward slowly, but before we knew it we were going almost too fast downhill where the large snow bank marked the dead end of the road and sled run.
The sudden stop at the bottom launched Mutt, me and the skates into the hard surface of the packed snow.
Mutt clambered back on to the sled and stood there as if to beckon me to go back up and do it again.
Instead, I gave a quick tug on the sled rope. She jumped off and followed me and the sled up and over the bank and out onto the ice.
I sat down and stripped off my boots and laced up my skates.
Almost an inch of snow had fallen on the ice since we last shoveled it a few days earlier.
It was not enough to impede my skating but it felt funny when I dragged my skate runner sideways if I didn’t lift it fast enough when I pushed off.
The snow was just perfect for Mutt to have some good traction and keep up with me as I raced up and down the ice.
Eventually she strayed from the oval pattern and dodged in front of me as if tripping me up was some sort of game.
Before long we were both pretty tired.
I stopped, fell on my back and layed in the snow staring up at the thin clouds that hung in the sky.
Mutt draped half of her body on top of me and panted so loud that I could not hear anything else.
I put my boots back on and made a few snow angels on the ice before we left. Mutt stood sentinel on the snow bank waiting for me.
Our skating may not have been of Dorothy Hamill caliber, but it was a perfect way to spend our Adirondack afternoon.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller,
lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com