New Year’s Day

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The day after this New Year’s Eve many Czechs awoke to pristine weather: a blue winter’s sky sometime rare in early January, a perfect start to 2009. My wife and I had spent the evening with friends at their cottage in southern Bohemia and despite going to bed late, they were up bright and early the next day to lace up brand new skates. A local pond nearby was the chosen destination. I didn’t want to go, I admit, but was soon persuaded to also venture out – under the promise we would be able to skate too. I hadn’t in years! And while, the idea of stuffing my feet into a borrowed pair of skates a size too small wasn’t too appealing, the sight of the pond immediately changed my mind.

A beautiful natural ice rink one usually only sees in Brueghel paintings… or postcards from Canada. My wife laced up her skates too and we were off.

Well, almost. When you venture out onto a frozen pond the immediate thought is always ‘Is it safe?’ Not least when the pond you are about to skate on is one of the deepest in the area. We decided it was: first, others were already there, skating on the far side – and the deep blue ice was carved with pirouetting spirals from end to end. Of course, you really want to be sure, and the proper way is to drill through to check that the ice is at least 20 centimeters thick.

Another way, specialists say, is to throw a large stone onto the ice to listen for a heavy dull “thud” – and to look, obviously, that there are no cracks and no seepage. We didn’t do the tests, but next time we will. Always. At least one.

As for the skating was concerned, it was without incident: at one point early on I wiped in spectacular fashion - landing on my backside with my skates in the air. But otherwise, everything went nicely and it really was exhilarating: fresh air, hills and trees and roofs in the distance: hues of pale brown and white. Deep dark blue ice. An old gray building on the water’s edge. And the thrill of moving and chasing my wife on the surface cat-and-mouse. Such a simple experience, but it was a fantastic start to the new year.

After about half-an-hour we were back at the pond’s edge. We unlaced, and we rubbed our numb toes back into shape, taking steps like a Japanese geisha. We prepared to head back for a late breakfast.

Perfect.

Later in the day, as we drove the 100 kilometres or so back to Prague we saw many similar scenes repeated: kids on ponds playing hockey, driving towards the net, appearing like ants in far-off silhouette.

Only on the news in the evening, they revealed on the day in parts of Bohemia, some eight people had fallen through the ice. All were lucky that they were helped by others nearby. A day earlier, one person, skating alone, was not. Reporters stressed again and again how hard it is – almost impossible - to get out of a pond if you fall through; how never to skate alone and how to test the ice; and always, always, to use common sense. Now, I am fairly confident the area we were in, conditions were okay, but nevertheless we called our friends to ask if they too had heard the news. They had and they too had been shaken. Never underestimate conditions, they agreed: as the experts had said on TV: even if it might seem silly (it’s just a local pond, what can happen, etc), it’s not.