we walked around the perimeter of the frozen lake today, detouring to look at tip up flags where holes had been drilled for ice fishing. the ice is thick now, about 20 inches. when we got to the rocks i walked to the shore and smoothed the snow away against the rock so i could see where the ice met tight with the land. it was clear there, so you could almost see down into the depths, almost. near the shore in most places it is melted a few feet out because of the springs everywhere, but against the rocks it's solid tight because it's deep there. in the inlet there were about three cars parked on the ice with trailers and tents and augers and kahlua and bud ice. we watched a man auger a hole in the ice, it went down and down, it seemed so far and at the end when it broke through a gush of water shot up like a geyser and piled the crushed ice around the hole in a little volcano shaped mound. i went over to the hole and scooped the rest of the ice out and felt the insides of the ice wall and peered down into the deep green water. it didn't feel as cold as i imagined and i wanted to plunge my face into it but i didn't. maybe i will tomorrow. it felt like nectar of heaven, having the water of thunder lake on my hands again. i can't wait until i can be in it all the way again, under the surface totally. silent, happy. it's dark now and the convoy of ice fisherman just drove across the highway they plowed in the middle of the lake back to shore. strange to see car and truck headlights driving in the middle of the lake. when trucks would pass us today out on the walk, the ice cracked loudly and bumped and groaned. even though it's way too thick to break, and impossible to fall in, it was still scary, i just stopped where i was and put my arms out and braced my legs, as if that would help. after it passed i traced an old refrozen over centimeter thick crack with my finger. this place is so important to me i can never ever explain it.