Saturday, January 12, 2013. Really cold. Like 400 degrees below zero. Fahrenheit.
Dang. I forgot to put on sunscreen.
When the steam from the cement plant is doing this, you know it’s a pretty serious inversion. But we’d decided to do a ski at the lake, so it’s off to the lake we go.
We’re not out there alone, either. Ice fisherfolk are all over the place: a regular little village has sprouted on top of the lake.
And it doesn’t look easy getting all that stuff out there:
How much of that is beer, do you think?
Some folks tough it out without the little house. Would someone please explain to me the appeal of this sport?
Of course, who is it who’s wandering around out here with no beer and no chance of catching something good to eat?