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Then, cranking up my four-wheeler, I angled downriver a mile or so, hoping to meet a fellow I had watched earlier from shore who was attempting to clear a path to his fish house with a snowblower.
“Kyle Thompson,” this guy said when I pulled alongside and asked his name.
Thompson had a friend with a truck who could pull his shack to shore. But first Thompson, using his snowblower, hoped to clear a tributary road about 100 yards long to ensure the truck’s passage.
“The problem is this slush,” he said, plunging a long-handled shovel into about 8 inches of water that covered the river ice.
Yet by comparison, Thompson’s circumstances were not bad — assuming his friend showed up with the truck.
I had seen enough, and soon was bouncing across the river on the four-wheeler, headed for my truck.
It was fitting, perhaps, that I didn’t make it.
I got stuck.
This time it was Tony and his bunch — the guys who were hoping to retrieve their snow-encased van — who were my new best friends.
They pulled me out.
So it has gone this winter on the St. Croix.
And so, with luck, it won’t go much longer.
Dennis Anderson • firstname.lastname@example.org
|New England||2/1/15 5:30 PM|
|Coll of Charleston||47||FINAL|
|(9) Florida State||82||FINAL|
|(11) Arizona State||68||FINAL|
Poll: Should the lake where the albino muskie was caught remain a mystery?