Dangerously Close to Madness

By Karen Kier

Back in the day, I had a vintage, 2005, Artic Cat 650 turbo snowmobile with red and white stripes and the shiniest chrome that would sparkle like a diamond in the sun. It may have only weighed about 670 pounds but driving and steering it was like moving a lead weight. The plastic seat cracked in the cold and the motor was loud. I had bought it because it was cute and looked just like the mini cooper I owned at the time. I was new to the sport of snowmobiling and couldn’t justify buying a new, light weight model if I wasn’t going to do it often. It was something I was doing only as a means to spend time with my husband who hit the trails pretty often each winter.

My husband, Rick, loves snowmobiling. He always has. You could classify him as an advanced adventure sled junkie. Every winter he’d leave with his “sled buddies” and head for the far- reaching snow trails of Canada. He’d spend weeks getting his gear in order, mapping GPS coordinates, and pouring over paper maps dotted with markings to ensure they wouldn’t get lost when out of GPS range. His last phone call to me on these trips was always to let me know that he'd crossed the Canadian border, and then I wouldn’t hear from him again until he’d crossed back over. When he wasn’t sledding the vast Canadian trails, he’d head out on day trips on trails accessible from our house. It was in his blood and I knew if I didn’t take up the sport, my time with him in winter would be only short snippets between trips.

Once I started riding, I quickly fell in love with snowmobiling as a sport. I was always most comfortable on the meticulously groomed trails in the Adirondack Mountains, which were about two hours away from the house we had at the time. The Adirondack Park is the largest park in the country. It’s equal to the size of Vermont and is three times the size of Yellowstone National Park. It covers about one fifth of New York State and encompasses over eighteen hundred miles of snowmobile trails on both public and private land.

While the park itself is home to several small towns and villages, it’s made up of many small lakes and a lot of preserved forest land. There is an abundance of mountain ranges, streams, and woodland wild life such as bear, deer, moose, assorted wildcats, and more. It provides for vast recreational opportunities year-round. Our home was in Old Forge, a town often referred to as “base camp”.  My husband can snowmobile in deserted Canadian lands with their twenty below zero temperatures, but I am just as happy riding the mountains in the Adirondack Park.

Rick and I always had rules for riding back in the early days, as we do now. I follow him because he has the GPS built into his sled. He carries all the emergency gear since he has the Cadillac of sleds with a long track and room for storage. He always stops at intersections, so I don’t miss a turn he might make. And, neither of us ever goes out alone because it is extremely easy to get lost and you could freeze to death if you ever broke down. There are no cell towers for phone service, so you might not be found for days. We stay off the sides of trails when there’s fresh fallen snow because it can suck you in and trap you. When riding railroad tracks, we stay in the middle, so you don’t catch a ski or go head first into gullies below. And we never ride the ice unless we’re certain it’s frozen solid through and through.

I remember one beautiful 30-degree, sun filled morning, we were gearing up for the day’s ride. I was really enjoying that winter because the temps had been relatively mild and there had been more sun than normal. Rick jokingly said, “Now honey, it’s been pretty cold, but we had a warm spell not too long ago. I just want to mention that if we’re ever going over the ice and you see it crack and me and my sled fall in, don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop to help. Your instinct will be to stop and help me, but DON’T. Lean on the throttle and go as fast as you can over the water and get onto land. Then call for help.”

“WHAT? You’re kidding, right? Do you think we had that much ice melt? Oh, you’re just kidding me, come on…knock it off,” I replied. I knew he had to be teasing me. 

He laughed but then added, “Yeah, I’m kidding for today but if that ever happened just remember: full throttle to skim over the top of the water. It’s the only way to stay afloat. If you don’t, you WILL go under.” 

I remembered seeing videos of these people who would ride their sleds on water and I thought that was just crazy. “Honey,” I said with pleading eyes, “we’re not riding the water, right?” 

“No dear. No worries – I was just saying,” he reassured.

As we were getting into our snow gear, full of anticipation for great riding, my husband got a text message. He said, “It’s Fred. He’s here with the guys and they want us to ride with them.” 

“I don’t think so,” I said shaking my head. “Those guys ride too crazy for me and Fred’s like the leader of the pack...he‘s wild. I won’t be able to keep up.” 

Rick replied, “No” to his buddies and soon got another text back. Turning to me he added, “Their wives are here too and planning to go so they’ll be normal…don’t worry….it should be fine.”

Snowmobiling is a social sport. We ride for a while and then stop some place for lunch before heading back home. With the guys wives along it sounded like fun. A half hour later we left Old Forge riding the roads to a trail that leads to the frozen lakes. From First Lake we rode along and shortly met up with the group at the marina near Fourth Lake. As we pulled up, I counted only half the sleds that were supposed to be there. 

“Hey Fred, where are the wives?” I asked.

“Oh, they decided they were up too late playing monopoly and drinking wine so at the last minute decided they just wanted to hang out instead." 

“Oh.” My pulse escalated, and my knee started shaking. 

My husband and I looked at each other. Knowing what I was thinking, he leaned in and said, “Don’t worry – just stay behind me." 

We rode through Eagle Bay up 10-mile-long Uncus Rd and headed North from the most southern end of Racket Lake. From there we rode the lakes continuing North towards Long Lake.  The sun glistened on freshly fallen white snow which at times became blinding. The deep greens of the forest pines formed a contrasting back drop against the bright blue of the sky. In the distance the vast mountain ranges could be seen. I live for these sights that satisfy my thirsty soul. It’s the stuff poetry is made from. I secretly longed to stop and take photos. The day would have been perfect for riding if I didn’t have to worry about making the twists and turns at such rapid speed to keep up with Fred and his friends.

Eventually, I became lulled between the feel of engine’s motor and being mesmerized by so much of God’s creation surrounding me. I almost didn’t notice when we got near the north end of the channel of lakes where there are many forks opening to the left and right. It’s a critical spot to pay attention to and ensure the group stays together so you didn’t get lost. We had taken a more challenging route for sure, and the guys were going at a pretty fast pace…faster than I like to go. But I was keeping up. At one point some my husband’s buddies veered from the pack but Fred was still in the lead followed by my husband. I was behind him.

We veered east to Outlet Bay at the far northeast end of the lake. Outlet Bay gets narrower and narrower until it becomes a creek. In the middle of that funnel, there is open water due to another creek feeding in. Most people go to the shoreline to cross before that point because moving water of course doesn’t freeze no matter how cold it gets. But it can snow, and snow can settle on sitting water or any surface ice. If you’re familiar with the route, the smart thing to do is just head toward the shore, pass through a narrow section of woods, and then reconnect further upstream. 

We’d been riding for a couple hours at that point and my muscles were starting to ache. My posture had slouched, and my mind was wandering. My vision was getting snow weary. I was clearly getting tired and looking forward to breaking for lunch. I diverted my gaze to the sled’s tracks in front of me. And then it happened…. the snow in front of me split in two – a crack and then a bleeding abyss of dark pooling water. I jerked my head up to find that I wasn’t behind my husband at all but was now behind Fred. It looked like he was on snow, but his sled was taking the snow with him. In milliseconds I was on water and hearing in my head Rick’s words of caution “throttle – go fast – or sink." But where was my husband? There wasn’t time to look around. My eyes were glued to the space ahead.

The muscles across my back and neck tightened and I gripped my handlebars a little too tight. To no one, I muttered a few words I won’t repeat, and did the only thing I could do. I leaned on the throttle – opened it up – and went as fast as I could, right behind Fred, toward where thought I saw land. I felt the skin on my face pull back. I couldn’t exhale and the sound of the thundering engine left my ears. I was sledding on water. I was actually doing it! And then a new fear hit me. What if Fred suddenly stopped short? I’d be dead from the crash. I prayed he’d go faster and I followed. The distance felt like miles. It seemed like hours went by before finding solid ground and seeing Rick on his sled riding next to me. He had safely gone through the woods. My heart was racing, and I was thanking God I’d survived. 

A half hour later we got to the restaurant and my pulse finally slowed down. When we removed our helmets, Fred turned and enthusiastically said “WOW, wasn’t that fun?” I couldn’t even answer. I sucked back tears.

The event was scary but also, I confess, it was exhilarating. And now I can proudly say I rode on water. Would I do it again? The answer is NO. A stunt like that is too dangerously close to madness. I don’t need that much fun. I still ride today though not so much as back then. My vintage sled has been traded for a Ski Doo GSX 1200 which rides with ease with its heated grips and seat, power steering, and adjustable shocks. I like it best when it’s just me, my husband, and a few like-minded friends…. setting our own pace and taking in the beauty of the Adirondack Park the way it’s meant to be seen.