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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Recreating on frozen lakes requires safety-first approach

Rob Chaney Missoulian

Lake ice can creak and groan, pop and tinkle. And when it opens up underneath you, it may not make a sound.

That’s what Ryan Sokoloski learned on New Year’s Day while leading a Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks tour of Placid Lake’s frozen surface. One minute he was inviting the half-dozen participants to listen to the eerie sounds, and the next he was up to his neck in freezing water.

“If I had a bunch of first responders and guys with scuba tanks wanting to do a class in ice water rescue and they said stand over there and wait for it to break, I’d say no way,” Sokoloski recalled with a relieved laugh a few days later. “But in a way, I’m glad this happened. It was a great way to remind people to never take the ice for granted.”

Sokoloski was on a FWP “First Day Hike” at Placid Lake State Park, following a route he’d tested the day before. He was about 15 feet away from a spot where ice fishermen had set up their shack on New Year’s Eve. A test hole he’d made 15 minutes before showed between 5 and 6 inches of ice, the level typically strong enough to support snowmobiles.

No spiderweb of cracks gave any warning about the ice failure. As he fell, another member of the party tried to grab him, and the ice gave way beneath her, too. Only submerged to her waist, she was able to roll back onto the solid surface.

But Sokoloski found the edge of the ice disintegrating more as he tried to grab it. While lake ice can be remarkably strong and flexible when solid, it loses most of its integrity when broken. Each time he tried to lift himself out, the hole became larger.

Then the totally unexpected happened. In an ice hole 30 feet from shore, over water he knew to be about 12 feet deep, Sokoloski found something to stand on. His boots were sliding on a surface about 4 feet down, but he wasn’t sinking. Two other tour members extended a ski pole and a snow shovel, and pulled him out of the water.

The whole incident lasted about 90 seconds.

The ledge Sokoloski found himself on was likely a very unusual version of a common lake ice effect. After a layer of ice forms, additional snow or rain can weigh the surface down and allow water to seep up and over. A new top layer of ice forms, but the water between stays liquid or slushy, like the creamy filling inside an Oreo cookie.

“Usually, it’s only 2 or 3 inches of water under that first layer,” said Missoula ice fisherman Adam Krantz, who was trying his luck on nearby Salmon Lake on New Year’s Day. “That’s scary. When you go in up to your knees, that’s terrifying.”

Warning signs

Ice travelers watch for several danger signs when determining whether to cross a frozen lake.

It’s good to know the lake’s warm-weather characteristics, because weedy places in summer become underwater compost piles in winter. They actually generate heat, which can weaken ice. Creek inlets and outlets have flowing water, which affects the thickness above their currents. Places exposed to prevailing winds tend to take longer to freeze than more sheltered bays.

“And sometimes there are just thin spots,” Krantz said, pointing to an odd grayish spot on Salmon Lake about 30 feet from where he was fishing. The hole he was working was about 7 inches thick. The ice in the gray spot was probably just 2 inches, not enough to support a single person on foot.

The type of ice also makes a difference. Safety recommendations are based on inches of clear, blue ice. Slushy ice with lots of cloudy bubbles has just half the structural strength, inch for inch, of blue ice. The strength of ice over a flowing creek or river is typically 15 percent less than the same thickness of ice over still water.

Sokoloski said when he got home to take a hot shower, he was surprised at the appearance of his body. He’d been wearing a moisture-wicking shirt under fleece and a synthetic parka on his torso, and his skin looked normal.

But below he was wearing cotton jeans, and his legs were white from restricted blood flow. He recalled thin sheets of ice breaking off his pants as he walked from his truck to his house. After he warmed up, he was relaxing at home when another thing hit him.

“About 5 p.m., we were sitting watching TV and all of a sudden, I was really tired,” Sokoloski said. “By 5:30, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I think it was the combination of the adrenaline rush from the fall and being slightly hypothermic, I was just burned out.”

Condon resident Rick Ferguson was at Placid Lake to learn about ice safety – a lesson that provided more than he expected.

“I’ve been out on Holland Lake two times,” Ferguson said, holding a pair of broom handles with nail points connected by a string. “A friend from Sweden told me about these. They’re good to hang around your neck so you can pull yourself out if you fall in. But I don’t think I’ll be using them. This is one winter course we’ll never forget.”