Monday morning it was eighteen degrees below zero. At nine in the morning the river showed signs of possible gorging. I took this first photo that shows steam rising from the exposed water. There was only one patch of accumulated ice on the bank in front of me.
Ken picked me up at three in the afternoon and we drove over the bridge toward the campground. The car said it was fourteen below zero when Ken got out of the car on the south side of the bridge to take the next two photos. The ice on the river was piling up.
A sweet man in a pick up stopped to see if we needed help.
The campground was filled with water that had reached the entrance. Efforts to protect Lions Park from yet another flooding had sadly failed. It too was under water until spring.
It is amazingly still when the ice silences the sound of the flowing river. The only sound is the popping and cracking of the ice in the sub zero cold.
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