In article ,
Peter Cole writes:
Tom Keats wrote:

Outdoor[ish] activities that don't require bicycles
are quite possible during the bleak months.

I confess to enjoying ice skating.

But at least you're really moving, and really going
somewhere. Even if it's around in ellipses, on an
indoor rink.

I grew up on a lake (outside of Boston). On good winters (cold, no snow)
we could skate for miles. After that, I never could really enjoy rink
skating.

It's not that good, but it's not that bad.
In fact I think there are more opportunities
for socializing in an indoor rink.

At one of the local parks that seems to be now only used for dog
defecation, lies the fieldstone chimney and foundation of an old warming
hut, next to a sluice gate for flooding a flat field from a passing
brook. It's hard to now imagine families spending a Sunday skating
outdoors and warming by a roaring fire.

And kids being forewarned against using straightened-out
coathangers to roast weenies with, over that fire, because
it makes a poison. Use supple tree sprigs instead. In
the PNW, vine maple does nicely, and even imparts a pleasant,
maple-ish sub-flavour.

And snowshoeing is increasingly becoming popular,
and people are realizing it isn't a simple matter
of striding along with tennis raquets tied to
your shoes.

Around here (Boston), there never is really enough snow to justify
snowshoes. Even XC skiing is pretty spotty. Some winters it's great,
others, non-existent (no snow).

I guess we all need bikes, rollers, trainers, skis-&-gear,
whitewater canoes & kayaks, fla****er canoes & kayaks,
ice skates, various raquets, a couple of really good
hackeysack bead bags, and somewhere to store it all.

I almost never use my trainer. I set up my fixed gear bike with studded
tires and there's never been a day I couldn't ride, even on unplowed
bike paths. I was out riding the river path around midnight in late
November a couple of years ago when I spotted a blinky pacing me in the
darkness. It took me a while to realize it was someone rowing. Despite
the fact that it was 15F last morning, I still haven't put away my
skiff. I pull it with a bike trailer and will use it on mild days until
the river freezes.

I'm amazed to read the old stories of how there used to be 5,000 canoes
in one short section of the river back in the 20's. People used to row
in the moonlight and anchor by the bandstands on Saturday nights. The
bandstands are gone and so are almost all the canoes. It sounds like
paradise lost.

There's a side street outside of Harvard Sq. that I frequently ride,
which goes past a glass fronted gym where you can see rows of exercycles
and treadmills. As I make eye contact with the patrons I wonder what
they're thinking. Alas, the Italian cafe with outdoor tables that was
often my destination has now been closed. Progress marches on.

When I first started doing a Saturday club ride, maybe 12 years ago, the
leaders announced that they were suspending for the winter. I said I was
going to keep riding, alone if need be. That first winter I did ride
alone a few times, but usually a few others would show up. Now, seeing
100 riders is not unusual in the dead of winter, even a dozen during
snow or freezing rain. To people who would remark that winter cycling
was crazy, I'd just compare it to skiing or skating.

It seems we're becoming a nation of indoor people. There was one old
standby that got people out and gave a chance to mingle with neighbors:
yard work. Around here, even in a rather modest neighborhood, it all
seems to have been outsourced.

ISTM Robert Frost wrote something about mending stone
fences -- neighbours cooperativey putting up physical
barriers between them while simultaneously establishing
social gateways between them. Mutually defining and
agreeing upon their boundaries and their access points.
Being good neighbours, where the word: "respect" doesn't have
to be uttered because that's already an understood given.

Wow, what a good post, and a bunch of good points that
you've raised.

Ice skating sure evokes nostalgia.

But it's still a pleasant pastime.

I learned to skate in 1964, at Vancouver's newly-built
Trout Lake Community Centre. I remember arriving home
to learn the Anchorage Earthquake had happened, and
hoping I didn't cause it. Y'know, the "Butterfly Effect"
'n all that. In that initial skating experience I did
send a couple of shock waves into the Earth's crust.
Not to mention my own body.


cheers,
Tom

--
Nothing is safe from me.
I'm really at:
tkeats curlicue vcn dot bc dot ca