MISQUAH — The ice went out on the Chain Thursday morning with little ceremony and considerable satisfaction, breaking loose on Little Pelican shortly after nine and drifting south in thin, gray plates that looked, from shore, like winter finally leaving because it had been asked often enough.

The official declaration came at 9:17 a.m. from Tim Brevik, who has no formal authority in the matter beyond owning the bait shop window most people use to look at the lake. “I saw open water clear to the point,” Brevik said. “That’s good enough for me and better than most committees.”

The annual ice-out pool at Tim’s was won by City Clerk Donna Skoglund, who selected May 15 at 9 a.m. and was within seventeen minutes. Her prize was $43, a travel mug with a cracked lid, and the suspicion of several men who believe clerks know things. Skoglund denied using official information. “I used a calendar,” she said. “You should all try one.”

Ice had lingered this year in the north bays and along the cattail edge of Mud Lake, where one final shelf refused to move until Wednesday’s rain and Thursday’s south wind combined to make the matter plain. On Big Pelican, resort docks began sliding in almost immediately. By afternoon, three boats had been uncovered, two batteries had failed, and one neighbor had borrowed a socket set with the solemnity of a sacrament.

Public Works Director Roy Niskanen said the city landing will be inspected before opener week, with attention to a soft shoulder, the dock hinge, and the sign asking people not to clean fish in the park sink. “The sign is still there,” Niskanen said. “Whether that means anything is between each person and their conscience.”

The ice-out date also resets a number of unofficial local clocks. Loons should arrive within days, mosquito complaints within a week, and the first firm prediction that the walleyes will be shallow sometime before anyone has checked. The historical society notes that this year’s date falls comfortably within normal range, though “normal” has never stopped Misquah from having an opinion.

For now, the Chain is open water again. Docks are going in, floats are being tested, and the town has begun that short northern season in which every errand can be justified as preparation for fishing, gardening, roofing, or simply standing outside to see what the lake is doing.

The ice-out pool is older than the new bait freezer, older than the electronic license terminal, and older than Tim’s current cash register, which still objects to Tuesdays. Entries cost one dollar and must include a date, an hour, and enough confidence to withstand public review after the fact. Losing guesses are not discarded. They are taped behind the counter for a week so others may learn humility.

Historian Marvella Tollefson checked the Pilot-Independent bound volumes and found that ice-out has landed as early as April 3 and as late as May 17 in the paper’s records, though Earl insists there was a year “back in the sixties” when the lake opened twice because everyone changed their mind. The paper could not confirm this, but did not reject it outright.

By Friday, the sound of outboards being tested in driveways had replaced the scrape of shovels. That may be the truest sign that ice is out: not the water itself, but men standing over motors with the hood off, listening for either success or expense.

Resorts, cabin owners, and the city will spend the next week shifting from watchfulness to work. That means shoreline raking, dock leveling, pump testing, ramp sweeping, and the small private ceremonies by which people convince old motors and older bodies to begin another season.