Rock Salt Journal

Editor's Note

There’s a pattern emerging in these editor’s notes. I go on some three or four-day outdoor trip, then I come back and write about it. Sometimes the connection between the adventure and Rock Salt is clear, sometimes, I’m just enjoying New England, and that feels thematic enough. I’m no adventure writer, but I am sentimental, especially when it comes to playing outside with my friends. This issue is no different.

At the end of January, we went ice fishing on Thompson Lake. I arrived late. When I stepped out of the car, my whole body clenched against the cold. Close to zero degrees, wind rushing across the frozen lake and down my neck. I hurried inside. The others were huddled around the woodstove walled off from the rest of the house by hanging blankets.

“The house wouldn’t heat up,” Arthur said. We slept on the floor, curled around the coals like lizards.

I say we went ice fishing. In truth, we tried to go ice fishing. We were amateurs. We sat on the ice all day Saturday and Sunday. We chopped holes with a splitting maul, dangled worms, then dangled smelt when the worms didn’t work. Learned about working the whole water column. We caught no fish. Probably, we were too impatient, too noisy. Chopping four-foot holes in the ice was more fun than sitting on buckets. We’ll try again next year.

This issue contains a great story about a fish. And one about winter. And one about a cabin. And plenty of others that I loved so much I had to publish them. Thanks for reading, and see you in the fall. I’m sure I’ll be feeling nostalgic about some orange leaves or something.

— J.B. Marlow, Editor