Fish Bowling and Other Winter Fun

Now that snow and ice and subzero temperatures and other true accruements of winter have firmly established themselves around here, it appears that many of us with a fondness for such things have wasted no time in getting out and enjoying the unique opportunities the season has to offer.

Fish bowling? Okay, I admit it - we don't really bowl with fish around here, although that might liven things up a bit when one is out ice fishing. The fish bowling to which I am referring is the "Fish Bowl" that is held annually by some friends of mine in conjunction with the Superbowl. The first "Fish Bowl," held a number of years ago, served as a sort of all-day party leading up to the Superbowl and featured a number of outdoor activities including ice fishing. That is, I believe, how the event officially earned the moniker "Fish Bowl." Over the years, the composition of the Fish Bowl has changed a bit from year to year based on who has been involved and where it has been held. In addition to ice fishing, past activities have included sledding, ice skating, a 10K run, and, of course, plenty of eating and drinking. And although the first Fish Bowl was held in a rented hall on one of Maine's frozen lakes, all subsequent versions have been held at the home of the hosts, Ed and Linda.

Ed and Linda and their family have moved around a bit in the years since the Fish Bowl started, but, conveniently, for the past few years they've lived in a nice log house on a lake in south central Maine. The weather for this year's Fish Bowl was outstanding - bright and sunny and around 30 degrees. And although the majority of the lake was covered with a good six inch blanket of snow, Ed saw to it that there was a sizable area cleared off for ice skating. Many of the guests were smart enough to bring ice skates with them. I was not one of those "smart" guests, seeing that I don't even own skates or know how to ice skate, so I had to be content with simply sliding around in my shoes. It's just as well - there were several pint-sized skaters who would have put me to shame had I pretended to know how to skate.

New this year to the Fish Bowl were snowmobile rides, thanks to some guests who used them as their means of transportation to the event. I passed on that as well, primarily because there were so many kids waiting to do it, but also because I was busy with a more traditional winter outdoor activity - shooting off a potato gun.

Well, okay, perhaps that's not exactly a traditional winter outdoor activity - not yet, anyway. A potato gun, to the uninitiated, is a home-fashioned "weapon" of sorts, typically assembled of PVC tubing, that launches potatoes into the great beyond by way of some type of accelerent. Apparently assembling potato guns is a common nerd activity - detailed instructions on their construction can be found on the Internet. The Fish Bowl potato gun represented the state-of-the-art in PG (potato gun) technology. Unlike most potato guns which use hair spray as their launch fuel, this PG used compressed air. The sophisticated contraption included all sorts of valves and tubing and even a pressure gauge.

After "loading" the gun by stuffing a potato in the barrel and shoving it to the bottom of the gun, an air compressor was used to supply the "fuel" for the PG. Once filled (often to a PSI of 100 or more), a launch simply required aiming the barrel away from all living things and flipping a valve lever. Depending on the trajectory and PSI, we were able to launch the brave potato several hundred yards. When we got bored with mere distance, we aimed at a nearby wooden dock. Upon hitting the dock, the potato disintegrated into unidentifiable vapor and the dock now bears a clearly visible war wound.

Alas, eventually all the outdoor fun ceded to the Superbowl, which few of us were interested in watching given the teams involved. Sorry, but us Maine folk can't get too excited about a football game involving teams from Nashville and St. Louis. Although, we must admit, that it turned out to be a darn good game, even if we didn't particularly care how it ended up. Bringing the activity inside also meant that all of the chili in the traditional chili cookoff was also fair game. This year saw a record eight entries, although I have it on good authority that one of them came directly from a can (the authority was me, since I saw the can being opened). This is my web page, so I don't feel too guilty about bragging about my second place finish in the chili competition, despite the fact that this was the first time I ever made chili (no, mine wasn't the one from the can). I don't think I'll be making that particular recipe again though - it was so hot that I couldn't get through a single bowl.

On to Acadia

A week later, we were again blessed with a bright, sunny winter Sunday, although howling winds made this day quite a bit colder than the previous week. Cold is a poor excuse for sitting on ones butt, however, so I didn't think twice about loading the cross-country skis and the dog into my vehicle and heading to the carriage paths in Acadia National Park.

Depending on who you believe, anywhere from 2 million ot 4 million people visit Acadia National Park every year. Fortunately, few of these millions show up in February. This is clearly evident when you approach Mt. Desert Island and notice that all of the summer tourist traps - the outlet stores, the water parks, the go-cart tracks, the miniature golf courses - are all mercifully snow covered and silent. That, in itself, might be worth the trip.

As I drove past all the sleeping summer fun spots, I noticed that the snow cover was getting increasingly thinner, with bare ground showing through in many spots. I began to worry that this trip was all for naught. But it turned out that I need not have worried - the carriage trails, being sheltered by woods, were amply covered.

After an hour and a half in the car, Jasper was quite ready to get out and run a bit. Had he realized how much a "bit" was, however, he probably would have opted to stay in the car. But I did not give him that option, so we both headed out towards Witch Hole Pond.

The carriage trails in Acadia were built by John D. Rockefeller, Jr. so he would have a place to travel with his horses and carriages that were free of the up and coming "horseless carriages." His legacy is still evident in the 45 miles of carriage roads that wind through Acadia and still provide a transportation experience free of motorized vehicles. These days, however, the preferred forms of transportation include bicycles, skis, and hiking boots.

It wasn't until we were about two miles into the trail that we saw another human being - a hiker going the opposite way. Gazing out at the stark, snow-covered mountains and the crisp blue sky, it was hard to believe that so few people were taking advantage of this paradise. But, then again, that fact only added to the feeling of paradise.

While people were few and far between, the presence of another mammal was clearly evident throughout the park. Every pond and creek sported at least one beaver lodge. And although the beavers themselves weren't showing face, their handiwork was clearly evident in the form of telltale tree stumps bearing teeth marks.

Further on down the trail, we encountered our first carriage trail bridge. Normally, one doesn't get all that excited about a bridge, but the carriage trail bridges are a different story. Each one is it's own work of art, with unique granite faces made from stone quarried from the island.

I'm not sure where Witch Hole Pond got it's name, but it was the halfway point in our journey, so it was the ideal spot to stop and have lunch. The pond was void of any snow, offering a pristine, totally flat expanse of ice. I ventured out a little bit, but Jasper wanted none of it, so we finished our lunch and continued on our journey.

The climax of the Witch Pond Hole trail is Paradise Hill, from which you can look out over Bar Harbor and the Atlantic. I would have loved to show you a picture of this landscape, but you'll have to discover it for yourself - Jasper was tired, and when we got to the turnoff for Paradise Hill, he sat down and looked at me with his big old puppydog eyes that pleaded to take the path home rather than the path up the hill. And so we headed back towards the car.

After eight hours of trudging through the countryside, Jasper was more than ready to sleep on the trip back - so much so that he didn't even notice the coyote wondering around Bar Harbor in broad daylight. A quick ride through downtown Bar Harbor only confirmed that it was February - just about every shop in town was shuttered and shut for the winter. It was time to go home and take a well-deserved nap - both Jasper and me.