Vermont

No, this is not a fishing related post. Yes, my blogs title screams fishing, I know. Truth is, I want to blog about great trips and memories even if a fish is not at the end of the line. Don't fret, however, because there will hopefully be many fishing related posts coming this year. My fieldwork begins this summer and I won't be subject to endless homework and projects. This should yield more free time for me to explore the great state of Maine, and possibly greater New England. Stripers and char await.

Vermont:

Vermont was a place that had been on my radar probably ever since I heard Orvis headquarters were located there. I knew it was saturated with liberals and hippies, but there were also trout, and a million sugarhouses. This time we set out to experience the ladder, but rest assure I will be back hopefully some point to cast a line in the green mountain state.

The first destination on our trip was a small quaint town named Quechee. There, we experienced the fascinating art of glass blowing. This trade goes back many years and felt as though we were stepping back in time. The factory sits on a river and its waters power the big furnaces used during the glass blowing process.

Master of the trade

"Seconds" where the ones with slight imperfections go

Lunch next to the river

Salmon w/raspberry compote

After a delicious lunch and tour of the factory we made our way to Quechee Gorge. Most of the trails to get down to the river were iced over but we talked with an employee at the visitor center who steered us toward one that may not be. The trail turned out to be icy as well but we managed to make it down.

Anxiously standing on an ice shelf to capture this shot

The following day we hit Burlington. Snow was currently falling and had been overnight. There was 4 or so inches with more planned in the forecast.

Frozen Lake Champlain. No view of the Adirondacks this time

The following morning we were met with a beautiful surprise. The snow had fallen all night and totaled around 18 inches.

We were worried the snow would throw a kink in our plan to tour sugarhouses but it ended up making the experience that much better. The first farm, which turned out to be one of our favorite was set deep in the woods. The family running the operation welcomed us and gave us a scope of what it takes to process syrup from sap to bottle.

First destination 

This cabin housed all of the old historical tools of the trade

Checking out the old tools while eating fresh maple candy

Fresh hot syrup, the smell was AMAZING

Filling up our own bottle

Firing up and prepping to make maple syrup

The rest of the day we hit 3 more sugar houses. All of them were special and unique in their own way. The drive to the farms was spectacular with freshly fallen snow blanketing the surroundings.

Steam from the syrup making process

This syrup is SO GOOD

Emma riding the horse drawn sleigh. One of the highlights of our trip.

In the syrup making room

Proud Dad Moment

For the past few days, I have been on Thanksgiving break and not had too many responsibilities. Most of my schoolwork was done for the semester and I have been enjoying some free time. Yesterday, I cleaned up my fly tying bench for the first time since I got here and then proceeded to watch some tying videos. Emma either spotted what I was watching or simply came over because of the crazy techno music playing (thanks Fly Fishing the Ozarks). Regardless, she started watching the videos with me and kept asking to watch more. As a father, this made me really excited so tonight we took her interest to action and she tied her first two flies. Her only request was that they would have "rainbow colors". I put a variety of supplies onto the table and let her call the shots. Hopefully I'll have a little tying buddy with me now from here on out.

Quick Session

Now that the stripers had moved south for winter, It was time to target inland fish. It was a Saturday and Hugh and I had a few hours in the morning to spare before adult responsibilites took the better of us. I was excited to fish a smaller river again as it had been a long time. This particular river contained brookies, land-locked salmon, and brown trout. I was excited at the chance to catch my first salmon.

When we arrived at the stream it was breezy and lightly raining. The rain was so fine you could barely tell it was there. It only became apparent when you looked out over the water and the refracted light from the river highlighted the fine droplets. This type of rain is common to New England, and something I had not experienced out west.

Hugh headed straight to the bridge and I worked my way upstream. I spotted a nice eddy and flung an olive streamer and began stripping. The spot looked fishy, but nothing was biting. I remember thinking "I wonder what the salmon want." I knew they liked egg patterns but I didn't want to deter from the streamer game. Slingin' meat is too much fun.

I worked my way up to a nice run and just knew a fish had to be in there. As I fished a couple other anglers started fishing right above me. Within the 4 hours of fishing that day I had other fisherman both above and below me fishing. Is this how they do it out east? As far as I'm concerned, the respectable thing to do is to walk well above or below and give other fisherman space. It made me kind of upset but I just tried to ignore it.

No fish came about in this spot either. I was starting to doubt there were fish here, or perhaps one of the other anglers already went through? I decided to head back and see what success Hugh had, or lack thereof.

He said he had a bite but, that was it. I then decided to head downstream and get away from the other anglers near the bridge. After an hour of slinging a variety of flies I finally caught a decent brown. It took Mikes trusty "muddy water worm" on a dead drift swing. I was hopeful it would have been a salmon but at this point I'd take anything.

This was the only fish brought to hand that day. Fishing a new river is always a learning experience, and this particular one humbled me. Just before I caught the fish I added a heavy split shot because I was thinking my flies were not getting deep enough. There's the saying "the difference between a good fisherman and a great one is one split shot." Perhaps this was the problem the entire day. The water was swift and deep and maybe I was not fishing deep enough. Regardless, it was a beautiful river and I'd be back again for round two. Hopefully next time, there wouldn't be other anglers.

Back at the parking lot another angler was gearing up and we sparked a conversation. He was a local guy and seemed to know how to fish this river. He showed me his fly box and what flies he uses for the salmon and brookies. I actually had tried the majority and humbly told him I had just caught the one brown. He stated that it can be tough and also mentioned all the anglers out here were most likely chasing the salmon run. He was also kind enough to provide some intel on a local river with "huge browns". Hopefully I can get out soon again and find those big boys. We just got 8 inches of snow yesterday but as long as the river is running, I'm all in.

Shrooms are still out