Though only a light breeze wafted across the ice the big boat tugged at the rope in my hand like a thoroughbred pulling at the reins. Not quite sure what to expect I cautiously slid into the cockpit, angled the front blade off the wind, sheeted in slightly and quickly accelerated to cruising speed. Shore became but a memory as the iceboat sped across the ice. Soon I tacked clumsily and regained speed as we raced back to West Shore Boat Ramp on the face of Oahe Dam where the real iceboaters patiently waited their turn at the helm of the impressive vessel.
My brother, Dick – recently transplanted from Rapid City, and his son Sol, a Pierre resident, stood on the boat ramp looking somewhat approvingly at my inaugural performance. I handed the “reins” to my brother and watched in awe as a symphony of wind, ice and balance played out before my eyes. He matter-of-factly stepped onto the back runner and, as the boat started to move, stood motionless like a captain on a sailboat surveying the horizon before settling into the cockpit, sheeting in and flying across the ice. He artfully tacked, scarcely losing any speed, and reached back toward us momentarily before arcing into a jibe that seemed to pick up speed on the turn. Then, he was gone, a solitary sailor superimposed on a featureless surface as he zipped toward the other two iceboaters whizzing across the frozen wasteland.
These relatively new iceboaters, John Koch and his 14 y old son Brad, combined have about 6 y experience compared to the decades of my bro and his son, but what they lack in experience they more than make up for with enthusiasm. And, boy are they enthusiastic. Each with his own skimmer, a much smaller boat than the DN but designed to maximize fun, safety and learning, they tacked and jibed their way across the ice near the face of the dam while curious onlookers parked on the dam.
Earlier this winter, before the Great New Year’s Eve Blizzard covered all good ice with snow, they both had sailed on a private frozen pond east of town. Then, everyone waited for ice wondering privately if they’d ever get to sail again this winter. Storm after storm pummeled the Pierre area covering any newly formed ice under an unsailable blanket of snow – great for XC skiing but lousy for iceboating.
Luckily, a timely February thaw appeared on Friday, the 11th melting the snow and making for sailable conditions. We met after work at West Shore where light winds and soft ice greeted their sail-starved eyes. Undaunted they rigged and Brad, the lightest sailor in the group, caught a few rides before calling it a day in anticipation of a favorable wind forecast for Saturday and even stronger winds for Sunday.
When I drove down to the dam Saturday morning the big boat, piloted by Sol, cruised below the Mid-Dakota pumphouse while the distinctly smaller skimmers plied the ice closer to West Shore. Grabbing my camera and heading toward the silent sailors I quietly marveled at their brisk movements across the ice.
Instantly, Sol appeared bearing straight for me skate flying as he sheeted in and ripped across the ice missing me by less than 10 feet. Pass after pass, first by Sol, then John, gave me ample footage for a Youtube video. Sol stopped and informed me that his GPS registered 28 mph, not bad considering the wind was only blowing about 14 mph. The sailing continued for the rest of the morning until light winds and equipment failure necessitated a return to town for repairs.
Curious about why they like to iceboat, Sol responded:
“Iceboating is a great rush. To be propelled along by the force of the wind is sheer delight in any craft, but the raw speed and acceleration of an iceboat is a singular experience. The boats respond to the simple controls like sports cars. Pull the sheet, and steer off the wind, and they launch like they've been shot from a canon. Sitting a foot off the ice amplifies the sensation of speed, and the g-forces as one accelerates through a jibe are exhilarating. Flying a skate on a reach at 30 mph, and watching objects on the distant shore come into focus as the boat rips along is as good as it gets. It's like riding off the rails in a roller coaster. It's a high performance experience available to the common man.”
Already windy at my house by noon on Sunday I drove to West Shore to find the big boat becalmed. Soon the wind arrived and Sol shot out of the bay flying back in a strong gust that propelled him an impressive 42 mph on the GPS. Soon Dick climbed into the cockpit and made a couple short runs then disappeared behind the jetty and didn’t return. Walking up on jetty for a better view I saw the boat sprawled on the ice like a wounded goose -- a mast shackle stay failed in the strong wind. Thankfully he was only about 100 yards from shore affording a fairly easy rescue before loading up and heading to Oahe Marina for burgers and to plan our next adventure.
