Ice

Alan and I crunch across the patches of ice in the town parking lot on a clear, cold Friday night. We are headed for an opening at the Adirondack Artists' Guild in Saranac Lake. http://www.adirondackartistsguild.com/ We join about two dozen others milling about the small gallery, drinks in hand. The theme of the show is “Carnival!” About 15 quite good pieces on this theme line the walls at the rear of the gallery: paintings, collage, weaving, soft sculpture. I wander among the paintings and photographs. Almost all of them feature winter scenes. A tall older woman sweeps in with her little black & white papillon dog. She's got big blond-grey hair topped by an enormous fox fur hat. Her legs are encased in shiny black leather jeans. Everyone knows her. I assume she's one of the artists and move toward her. She sees me admiring her little dog. “That's Max. He's a critic.” As we walk back to the car Alan explains I have just met Ursala Trudeau, step-mother of Gary Trudeau, the creator of Doonesbury.

We traveled north to Saranac Lake to visit our friends Alan and Susan and to enjoy the 113th Winter Carnival. http://www.saranaclakewintercarnival.com/ Part small town celebration, part Mardi Gras and part college reunion, it's not really a tourist event. It is an amazing snap-shot of Adirondack life.

It takes about two weeks for volunteers to build the ice palace along the bank of Lake Flower. Twelve- inch thick blocks are cut out of Pontiac Bay using a homemade rig that marries a gas motor to a big buzz saw blade. The blocks are hauled to shore and artistically stacked two stories high. Some blocks are hollowed out with colored lights installed inside for nighttime viewing. A maze of ice walls dead end at a crawl hole through the center of the back wall. Kids and adults, too, emerge one by one from the tunnel into a giant room with high crenelated walls. Because this year's theme is “Adirondack Cowboy,” a giant ice stagecoach is parked next door.

Saturday dawns clear and cold. A little before noon we park in our friend's driveway at the edge of town. Two women are putting the final touches on a four-wheeler they are transforming into a covered wagon carrying two piglets and six chickens. As we head downtown on foot we see a lot of folks with straw cowboy hats crammed down over stocking caps. The sky turns grey as the temperatures climb into the high teens. Across from the reviewing stand, a bar with an upstairs balcony and deck is overflowing with a rowdy crowd. The two main downtown streets are now lined four deep. I get the distinct feeling that almost everyone knows everyone else at least by sight.

Here come the cop cars, lights flashing. A military color guard in fatigues gets a hand as they grimly step along. A big truck from Duso's Marina follows. Its snow plow has a cow skull dangling in the middle. Mr. Duso was to be the Grand Marshall of this year's parade. He chaired this event for 24 years and was the local fire chief for 12 years. He died earlier this winter at age 78. His volunteer firefighter's coat hangs on the back of his truck. The big ice saw he designed and used to cut more than 100,000 blocks over the years to build every ice palace since 1955 is towed behind.

The local high school band marches gamely along. The kids wear their uniforms but whatever gloves, hats and boots they want. Some go with the cowboy theme, some are more practical. Then come the floats. All are home made, towed behind big construction trucks or heavy duty pick-up trucks with snow plows freshly repainted for the parade. Every local institution has a big contingent. The hospital, the nursing home, the Trudeau Cell Science Institute, every elementary school, Paul Smith's College, two groups of Shriners, Planned Parenthood and the ladies auxiliary of the VFW all have modest floats. Some loosely organized young environmentalists calling themselves the Green Circle dance and drum down the street to celebrate local farming. A bag pipe band in kilts has traveled down from Ontario. A small troupe a civil war reenactors thrill the crowd by firing their muskets every block. The ten members of Society for Creative Anachronism buck the theme in their Viking outfits. Another group dress in costumes inspired by early video games such as Pong and Super Mario. A large bunch of men with beards (and some women with fake beards) march as the Brothers of the Bush.

My feet are freezing. On and on it goes for nearly two hours. Four day-glow Rasta clowns perform with snare drums. A small group of brass players and a bass guitar playing through a megaphone is channelling the Blues Brothers. Everyone is waiting for the parade favorites: The Adirondack Lawn Chair Ladies.

Finally here they come, nearly fifty women of all ages dressed in jeans, cowboy hats and identical vests. Each one carries an aluminum lawn chair covered in a brown and white cow design and their names written in glitter. Line dancing music starts. They swing the chairs overhead in perfect time. They open and snap them shut as they dance and strut. No one misses a beat. The crowd goes wild.

We stamp life back into our feet as we head to the car. Back at Susan and Alan's we fire up the sauna. As I start to warm up at last a silly ditty I heard for the first time today by a fellow called Speedy Arnold is stuck in my head:

It's cold here in Saranac Lake.

My thermometer says, “Give me a break.”

Makes you shiver and shake, makes your radiator break.

It's cold here in Saranac Lake, it's cold here in Saranac Lake.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXm-R4hJ7_8