I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
-- Joni Mitchell
I grew up beside a river you could skate on, the Assiniboine.
In the summer, it was mosquito-infested and murky, but in the winter, it was magical.
My mom was a speedskater. My dad played hockey. For years, he'd clear off a rectangle of that river so that we could skate. Lots of times the surface was bumpy or cracked; it all depended on how quickly the river had frozen that year. Some years, it was like glass.
It was a lot of work, a lot of snow to move, and it was always just a temporary reprieve until the next big blizzard. And no matter how hard we tried, our rink was never big enough, or long enough, to skate away on.
Growing up in Winnipeg, it was important to know how to skate.
It was what we did, as kids, hanging out at the local community club rinks all winter. It was what we did, as teens, hanging out at the high school rink farther from our home so our parents wouldn't catch us smoking.
So I have a secret.
I love Paul Jordan, the guy who's put Winnipeg on the global map by building the world's longest skating rink.
When pundits in Ottawa scoffed at his efforts last year to lay claim to an honour that city's Rideau Canal has touted for decades, Jordan didn't flinch.
The 7.8-kilometre Rideau Canal skateway is registered by Guinness World Records as the world's largest naturally frozen ice surface. It has views of the Chateau Laurier hotel and Parliament Hill. But it doesn't freeze like it used to. And last year, Jordan had four kilometres open and groomed long before anyone in Ottawa could lace a skate.
Because if there's anything Winnipeg does well, it's freeze in the winter.
Nevertheless, one Ottawa pundit called Jordan a "dweeb in a snowsuit" for having the temerity to challenge their rink's status, and when they finally opened, we let them retain their crown.
But Jordan, the chief operating officer of The Forks Renewal Corp., didn't tuck his toque in his pocket and give up. A true, self-deprecating, doggedly determined Winnipegger, he just vowed to try a little harder this year.
When an early cold snap rolled around, he quietly recruited a crew of university students to shovel six kilometres of snow, under the police river patrol's guidance.The snow had to be cleared by hand before the Zamboni could go in and do its thing, smoothing the surface.
When it got a little warmer, and the ice started to melt under our sunny skies, did Jordan give up? No, he just waited it out, slowly pushing back the boundaries of his rink when he could, adding in little wooden shacks for people to rest.
And today, we officially have about nine kilometres of trail.
OK, so we don't have Beaver Tails and hot chocolate vendors. We don't have the glossy brochures. Our rink is not, as one Ottawan sniffed, on a world heritage site "as recognized by UNESCO."
But we have bright cold winter days, and the longest skating rink in the world. How cool is that?
Our trail runs behind some of the most beautiful homes in Winnipeg, a quiet, shimmering rink rimmed with trees and snow, topped by blue sky and bridges. It's a river you can skate away on like no other, from little Omand's Creek all the way to The Forks and beyond to the Red.
Next month, we should set another world record. Dean Koshelanyk, president of Tyndall Park Community Centre, wants to form the world's longest human skating chain on Feb. 18, Louis Riel Day. The record is 225 skaters.
All we have to do is show up at The Forks at 1:30 p.m. to register, hold hands and skate for three minutes. We can do that, can't we?
After all, remember our fearless leader, the dweeb in the snowsuit.
Paul Jordan has already said if anybody contests the size of our skating rink, he'll just shovel a little further. It's what we do.
Margo Goodhand is the Winnipeg Free Press editor.
margo.goodhand@freepress.mb.ca
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