Ice Sharks Don't Really Exist - une publication de blog par Paulxx001

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6/12/2018 1h42

Dernière Consultation:
10/6/2020 18h39

Ice Sharks Don't Really Exist

The north wind, howled down the lake. It blew the powdered snow, across his path, in horizontal sheets, that stung his cheeks. Brilliant midday sun, belied the harsh cold and blinded him. He lowered his covered head and trudged forward. When they were in love - they would walk that expanse together... laughing, as they slipped their way, across the polished ice.

He moved steadfastly, in spite of the arctic conditions. Though you might have thought, he would be concerned. Would he find his way to safety, on the other side - before freezing... or falling through the ice?

When she was with him, that was the joke , they always shared. They both knew, there was never, any danger, of either event occurring. The ice was three feet thick and they were dressed, like Everest climbers.

When they would finally arrive (at that other side), the families from the ice huts, would greet them with warm hugs. Shots of alcohol, would always be shared. They would toast to health, to happiness and to long lives. Heck... eventually... they would toast to the fish. He would pull out the sandwiches and whatever else he'd brought in his knapsack, and they would all party. She'd laugh with him and with those hardy men and women, as they fished, for whatever they were catching - through those ice holes. Snowmobiles - chased by dogs and piloted by teens - would buzz around, racing across the ice and snow. By late day, the fishing would be done and the ice holes would be quickly, freezing over. They would have eaten, and drank and bated hooks, all afternoon. Plumes of grey smoke, would rise from wood stoves, as those shacks, became welcome shelters for the frozen. There were many... who huddled in there; laughing, as marshmallows were being toasted and hot chocolate, was being served.

On this day, he was alone. He was halfway to the fishermen, as he paused and looked forward at the scattered ice huts. He then turned, and looked back, at that black dot, by his shore. It was where, he had parked his car.

When she was with him... she'd laugh and make fun, of his resolve. She'd always walk ahead, beckoning him, to catch up to her.

"Quick... Quick... Come here. I see an ice shark, " she'd holler and wave to him, as she stared into the black ice. He'd always run up to her, as if it were true... just to amuse her. She would always reward him, with a loving kiss. Ice sharks don't really exist. I guess, a sturgeon might look like a shark, if you didn't know any better.

There were no jokes, or laughter... or kisses, to share with anyone, on this day. The wind... hardly cared. It mocked him... whistling in his ears. He shielded his eyes against the sun, adjusted his glasses and peered into the whiteness. He looked at those dotted huts in the distance - through that wind swept haze. Then... he turned around. With his back to those shacks... and those fishermen - he slowly made his way, towards his shoreline.

When they were together, she'd ask him, if they could hurry back. Her feet were usually freezing... by then.

There was no rush now. He'd be at his car, in less than an hour. The unopened bottle of vodka, resting in his pack, would still be cold, by the time he got home. He was standing, on a large patch of clear ice, as he bent down to adjust his boots. Just as he rose from his crouch, he saw, a shark swim by. "That was impossible... " he thought. "Ice sharks don't really exist."

© December 2018 Paul P.
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So...
Can you enjoy, going on adventures alone; or do you only go, when you have company to join you?
Have you ever been ice fishing? . .
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... is there another way to look at it
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