It was five years ago, a grippingly cold January morning, and the Cambridge pavements were white with sparkling frost. At home, my daughter had an important message for me. "A man called Gary Warrington phoned," she relayed gravely, "He wants you to know that there's a nice piece of ice at Mare Fen."
After almost 12 months in hibernation, the skaters' grapevine was crackling into action. Warrington is secretary of the Fen Centre of the National Ice Skating Association, an outpost devoted to keeping a slice of fen history alive. His "nice piece of ice" was 40 acres of frozen fen, stretching from the lane between the villages of Swavesey and Over to the banks of the River Great Ouse.
The shallow water that had lain for months on the nature reserve had turned into a skater's paradise, several hundred times larger than an indoor ice rink, and, edged with willows silhouetted against a fiery low-slung sun.
Within an hour, we had bundled the children into the car and were on Mare Fen, thick-jumpered and woolly hatted, struggling into our skates and finding our ice legs for the first wobbly spin of the winter. Intoxicated by the cold air, we skated till dark, returning home glowing with the sense of having discovered another world: winter sports for free on our doorstep.
Two days later, the ice had melted and our glittering rink was once again a muddy fen. But the magic of outdoor skating had worked its spell; we were hooked.
People will tell you, even local people, that fen skating is the stuff of Christmas cards and yellowing photos: it just doesn't happen any more. True enough, the hard winters of 1939 and 1963, when the Cam froze and undergraduates skated the 15 miles from Cambridge to Ely, are becoming distant memories. But most years, there's a snap long enough and cold enough to freeze the water lying on the washes and water meadows. It takes three nights of temperatures of minus six or below to form ice strong enough to skate on. Just where in the fens it's possible to skate varies from year to year, and depends on where the farmers and river authorities have allowed the land to flood.
To catch the skating, you have to be quick: the ice rarely lasts more than three or four days. Burdened with bags of skates and flasks of hot chocolate, families are slow to arrive. Fastest on the uptake are retired men, quietly spoken and light on their feet. They skate the fenman's way, crouched low over their long skates, hands held behind their backs, covering the distance with long sweeping strokes.
Many of the most elegant skaters come from families who worked on the land. "When there was ice in the fen, work stopped and everyone got their skates out," says Cyril West, 84, who farms on the banks of the Cam at Upware with his grandson. "We had ice hockey matches, with all ages joining in. In 1963, a group of us skated five miles downstream to the Fish & Duck pub, where we found that the landlord hadn't seen a soul for 10 days."
Old photographs show skating at Grantchester Meadows, where the lamp that lit the ice for night skating still stands rusting amid the stinging nettles, and Lingay Fen, where the M11 roars through farmland. In 1954, the national skating championships, which are still held whenever conditions allow, were run at Cambridge sewage works, where the old drain-off fields regularly froze over to form ideal outdoor rinks.
Today, the place names to conjure with are Mare Fen, Bury Fen, Sutton Gault, Welney, and Upware. Two years ago, I skated at all five places in a single day with Rob Fryer, a printer from Warminster, who is compiling a guide to wild places to skate in Britain and overseas. Rob's Directory of Cold Places is a slim but expanding sister volume to the more substantial opus, Rob's Directory of Cool Places, a guide to swimming in rivers and lakes.
My ice-crawl with Rob came to a sudden end at Upware, where, weak with hunger, we fell through the rapidly thawing ice into the soggy grass. We had foolishly skated on ice long deserted by wiser people. Every year, people drown after falling through ice into rivers and ponds. But if the ice gives way on a water meadow, you're likely to find yourself standing in water just inches deep. Rob and I returned to Cambridge cold and muddy but safe.
The earliest written record of skating dates from 1180 when skates were made of bone. Because they had no edges, you pushed yourself along with a "skating stave". Later came metal skates, introduced from the Netherlands, and noted by Samuel Pepys in 1662. Popular in East Anglia were "fen runners", made by setting blades with curved fronts into blocks of wood, which were screwed into the soles of everyday boots. From the 1880s, these were superseded by Norwegian speed skates.
These days, the best way to kit a family out with skates is to scour car boot sales, charity shops and small ads for cast-off figure and ice hockey skates. At Welney, you can borrow skates by joining the local skating association, which is keen to expand its 30-strong membership. At the skaters' pub, the Lamb & Flag, you might find a man selling second-hand skates from the back of a van.
It's been a wet autumn. All over the fens, water is lying in great shallow pools, waiting for the long fingers of frost to transform it into ice. From his bedroom window in Upware, Cyril West looks out across the flooded washes where he skated until he was nearly 80. He never learned to swim and speaks half-admiringly, half-disapprovingly of neighbouring farmers who will skate on "hard water", the local term for a river barely frozen.
There's a fen saying that "it takes ice to meet old friends". Skating, says West, brings people together in mid-winter when spirits are flagging. "It's invigorating, sociable and it's free," he says, "I put my good health down to skating. If it freezes this winter, I'd love to see more people out on the ice. There's nothing like skating."
Important tips
· Never walk or skate on frozen rivers or ponds where the water below is deep. Never go skating alone. Ask experienced local skaters for guidance.
· Skating on washes and water meadows is at the discretion of landowners and tenants: remember to close any gates and take litter home with you.
· Naturally formed ice is less even than the 'manufactured' ice of indoor rinks, so beware of surface bumps.
· Don't expect any of the conveniences provided by the indoor rinks.
Way to go
Where to skate:
Mare Fen, on the nature reserve off the lane between Swavesey and Over. Bury Fen, on privately-owned water meadows off the A1123 between Earith and Bluntisham. Sutton Gault, on the Hundred Foot Washes between the Old and New Bedford Rivers (ask for the Anchor pub), close to Sutton village (this week voted village of the year). Upware, on the Cam washes, beside a lane just south of the village of Upware. Welney, on the washes between the Old Bedford river and Hundred Foot Drain (information on skating is posted on the community website: welney.org.uk). Whittlesey, on Whittlesey wash, north of the town, near the Dog in a Doublet pub on the River Nene.
Further information:
Gary Warrington, secretary of the Fen Centre of the National Ice Skating Association (01954 230482); Roger Giles, chairman of Welney Skating Association (01354 610483). For a copy of Rob's Directory of Cold Places, email wildswim@talk21.com or phone 01985 847168. Tourist Information Centre: The Old Library, Wheeler Street, Cambridge CB2 3QB (01223 322640, accommodation bookings 01223 457581, cambridge.gov.uk/leisure/TICWEB/tourism.htm).
