Toward the end of May, when things begin to get really slushy, people start making frequent, yet otherwise unnecessary, trips to the river. They watch...and wait...and watch...and wait. They know all too well that it's impossible to predict exactly when the ice will "go," but that doesn't curb the irresistable urge to guess. More than anything, though, folks just don't want to miss it. So the normally quiet riverbank hums with activity virtually around the clock.
Massive slabs of ice are inevitably beached as the water level rises and falls several times throughout the process of breaking up.
The remnants are often rather interesting...
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