Every winter, Munson Island on West Grand Lake carries on a tradition that has lasted decades. This past weekend, my husband, Ed Tomah, made history by completing a job that normally takes three to five men. He cut and hauled 60 blocks of ice entirely on his own — something no one had ever done before on the island.
Munson sits a mile and a half north of the dam in Grand Lake Stream in Washington County. It was once owned by the Boy Scouts before the Lea family purchased it in 1963. Since then, the tradition of harvesting lake ice each winter has continued without interruption.
Long before electric refrigeration reached remote homes, winter meant one crucial task: cutting and storing ice for the summer. Because of the island’s distance from town, having a supply of ice wasn’t just convenient, it was essential. Trips back and forth were never simple, and the island relied on careful preparation and hard work.
My father, David Tobey, became caretaker of the island in 1974. At the time, five guides worked there: Bill Fitch, Creston MacArthur, Hazen Bagley, George Bagley and my father. Ice was cut by hand with a saw, a true test of strength, endurance and teamwork. Large blocks were scored, sawn free, hauled from the lake and stacked inside the ice house on the lower north side of the island. Sawdust was packed, as it still is today, to preserve the blocks through the summer.
Through changing times, modern tools and evolving island life, the winter ice harvest has remained meaningful. Three generations of my family have taken part in the work. For us, it has always been more than a job — it’s shared labor, pride and history.
Today, Ed serves as caretaker of the island, and this year help was hard to come by. Ice cutting is grueling work — heavy, cold and unforgiving on the body. Few are willing to take it on. Rather than spend weeks trying to recruit help, Ed decided to do it himself. I was there for safety and lunch.
Before cutting begins, the ice is checked frequently in February and March. Harvesting starts once it reaches about 18 inches. Last March, the ice was only 16 inches on one side of the island, and it split in half when blocks were pulled out. The harvesters moved around until they found solid, safe ice.
Each block measures 18 by 18 inches and weighs roughly 80 pounds. Wearing ice cleats for traction, Ed cleared snow from the cutting area, scored the surface and cut each block free. He hauled the blocks from the lake using a set of ice tongs more than 60 years old and stacked them inside the ice house. Vegetable oil is used in the saw to keep regular chainsaw oil from entering the lake.
No one lives on the island during the winter, but the ice is harvested in the cold so it’s ready when the island comes alive in late June. From then through Labor Day, Ed retrieves a block from beneath the sawdust each day. He cuts it into four pieces with an old two-hand saw, loads them into a wheelbarrow, rinses off the sawdust at a grated table and places the clean ice into beverage coolers in the shed.
The process looks different than it did in the 1970s, but its heart remains the same: preparation, hard work and pride in doing things the old-fashioned way. The ice house still stands as a symbol of self-reliance, connecting each generation to those who worked the frozen lake before us.
Long after the snow melts from West Grand Lake, these 60 blocks will continue to cool summer drinks. It’s more than cutting ice — it’s preserving history and keeping a tradition alive.
