In Vermont, gliding on natural ice
Lake Morey a winter playland ringed by scenery
The sky was sliding toward periwinkle and the skate rentals had closed for the day, so there were few witnesses when my daughter pushed off onto the frozen lake. She had brought her own figure skates, and she stroked away decisively. I watched her, as I’ve done so many times at skating lessons for five of her 14 years. Except on Lake Morey in Fairlee, Vt., in the January twilight, there was no wall to lean on, no pop songs pumping from speakers and no reason for her to have to turn around.
When my daughter shared her wish to skate on natural ice, Lake Morey Resort seemed an easy answer. Just off Interstate 91 along the New Hampshire border, it is known for maintaining one of the longest groomed and monitored skating loops in the country, about four miles following the lake’s perimeter. Although longer U.S. trails have been created by volunteer-run organizations during the pandemic, this one has a toasty hotel, as well as dining next to the lake.
The resort offers so many kinds of gear that guests inspired by the Winter Olympics in Beijing can try several of the sports played in the Games. Figure skates, hockey skates and sticks, cross-country skis, and fluorescent-colored sleds that can be pulled on the lake or used as a pseudo luge at a sledding hill on the resort grounds are on offer. The Nordic skates, ideal for stability over the small bumps and natural fissures on wild surfaces, are like skis in the way the boot and long, wide blade are separate pieces that clip together.
At home, my daughter spends hours at rinks indoors and out, but she prefers to skate in the elements once our local outdoor rink opens for the season. During that first pandemic winter, the routine and endorphin-generating vigor of skating at the outdoor rink were critical in lifting our family’s spirits. Lake Morey seemed to offer freedom from worry. All over the country, if winter is biting enough, ponds, rivers and lakes will freeze and become skateable for a time. But Mother Nature’s sheets are uneven and unpredictable. At the lake, the ice is evaluated daily and maintained by a fleet of plows and motorized brushes to streamline it and make skating possible.
The fleeting season when the trail is open for ice skating makes those days more magical. It usually opens by Martin Luther King Jr. Day in January and closes near the end of February, although it has opened as early as New Year’s Day. Like any outdoor venue, it is subject to the vicissitudes of nature: Earlier this month, the trail was temporarily closed to skaters after a pair of storms left standing water on the lake.
When we looked out at the lake from our hotel room on our first morning at the resort, crews were already brushing snow from the ice, and skaters were moving on cleared stretches.
As much as I had loved having the 547-acre lake mostly to ourselves the evening before, I delighted in the morning energy. There were college-age hockey players ribbing each other, people propelling scooters made with two skis, dogs galloping alongside skaters, three generations of a family meeting friends, and preschoolers on an outdoor playdate.
My daughter told me to look where I was going instead of down, but I was fascinated by the navygray lake’s texture. The ice was etched by blades and naturally occurring cracks; it looked to me as if we were skimming across pavement instead of a freshwater bowl averaging 24 feet deep.
After a day of skating, we wanted to take advantage of all the gear at hand and try a sport we had never attempted. We chose the cross-country skis, and the woman outfitting us directed us to the lake. It was a Monday morning, and we were the only people on it.