By Tracy Karasinski
“There’s ice! Be there tomorrow at 11:00.”
A text from Ray Goppold is never just a casual invite—it’s a call to adventure. And it usually sends me scrambling to grab my bike and gear.
Most motorcyclists in New England resign themselves to winter’s grip, grumbling about the cold while their bikes hibernate in garages. Not Ray. In 2019, he convinced me to ride on a frozen lake. At the time, it sounded slightly insane. Naturally, I said yes.
A Little Backstory…
My first exposure to ice riding was in Michigan in the mid-’70s. My Uncle Mike, a decorated enduro racer, decided to try his hand at ice racing. His garage housed a Husqvarna perched on a lift, its knobby tires bristling with shiny sheet metal screws. “Don’t touch them,” he warned. I did anyway. Lesson learned—they were sharp!
Uncle Mike’s ice racing career didn’t last long. I’m thinking a season or maybe two. My cousin says he got fed up with riders trying to kick each other over during passes and went back to enduro racing. But I still remember a couple of frozen-lake weekends watching two-strokes wail across the ice, riders sliding into spectacular crashes and running over one another. I also remember standing in the snow with my aunt and cousins, grilling hot dogs over an open fire while motorcycles whined in the background.
Fast-Forward to 2019
Six years ago, Ray loaded up a little Honda CRF150 and said, “Let’s go.” Trepidation? Absolutely. But as they say, if you can’t, you must.
That first day was a revelation. I met incredible, welcoming riders, and I was blown away by their skill—especially British Bob, who I’m convinced is a deity on ice. By the afternoon, my confidence had ratcheted up… a little too much. The slushy, snow-cone-like ice made things tricky, and before I knew it, my rear end washed out. One second I was riding, the next I was sliding—helmet full of giggles as I skidded across the ice like a human hockey puck. The bike? A solid 30 feet away. Getting up and retrieving it was a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy.
Still grinning, I asked Ray upon return to the dock, “Hey, did you see my crash?”
With his signature deadpan, he replied, “Oh! That was you?”
Winter 2025—Bring on the Ice!
Last Sunday marked my fourth time on ice and Alyn’s second. Insanity is more fun when shared with friends. Alyn is fearless and competitive…she was doing great by the end of her second day. Every year, I find myself rooting for freezing temperatures while my fellow riders probably curse my enthusiasm. Good ice is rare these days, and when you find it, you go.
Ray was right all those years ago—you’ll never look at a frozen pond the same way again.
So here’s to more ice, more rides, and more wild winter adventures. Bring on the ice, baby! And, if Ray calls you, you must go!
