Wanna’
know what a real Vermonter does in April?
Most of
us, with the exception of my 9th generation Vermonter wife, Katie
Carleton, come here from somewhere else. When I first arrived in Vermont in
1975 I knew that my heart had found its home. I felt a sense of belonging like
I had never felt before. I was a skier and had done a little hunting back in
Pennsylvania. But once the snow melted, what comes next?
Two
pronounced characteristics of a real Vermonter are that they celebrate sugaring
season and the holy grail of spring, Opening Day of Trout Season.
Granted
this year we are joking about having to use an auger to get through all the
ice, but seriously, there are streams with open water that hold hungry rainbows
and browns that have held over throughout the frigid months of winter.
It’s
been a couple of years since my dear friend, Sara Blum, of Shelburne and I have had
the opportunity to fish together. But this year I am making a public pledge to
get her on the water. Sara started fly fishing just a few years ago, and like
many who try this sport, she struggled with the amount of information and technique
needed to actually land a trout. Sara is a tenacious business owner (she owns
Acorn Marketing which stresses the competitive advantage of highly focused
public relations) and as such, she is remarkably adept at learning new means to
an end.
On a
gorgeous spring day we ventured to the Winooski River to wet our lines and
enjoy the dappled sun on the riffles of a feeder stream while throwing colorful
iridescent flies into the tail outs of the rippling water.
Fly
fishing is more Zen than any sport I know. Listening to the fly line swish by
over your head and standing in the current makes one feel as though he or she
is a part of a magnificent world. The water and the sky absorb your spirit and
soon you find that your mind is at peace with the present.
I was
watching Sara as she practiced her back cast and lay down finish. It was a
moment of sheer joy to be watching someone learning. I drifted back 46 years to
my first fly fishing expedition and recognized that the intense concentration for
achieving the perfect four part cast had evolved into a lifelong passion. After
numerous false casts, Sara released her forward cast and laid the 6 weight line
down on the water in a straight line about 20 yards out and just in the end of
the riffles.
I
watched her breathe a sigh of relief having accomplished what she had been
longing to do.
As she
relaxed and reveled in her success, it happened.
Smack! A
nice rainbow trout surfaced and hit the elk hair caddis with abandon.
The reel
began to scream, ticking off the gears of the internal mechanics, and literally
singing as the fish made a run downstream.
“Raise
your rod!” I yelled. “And if he jumps bow down to him!”
And jump
he did. The feisty rainbow threw himself a foot into the air, sparkling in the
bright spring sun. His colors flashed pink and green in the sunlight.
“Did you
see that?” I whooped as I walked over to her to coach her on bringing him in.
“Wow! That
was fantastic!” Sara replied.
I
watched as she played the fish until he was tired enough to bring in to the
gravel bar we were standing on.
Sara
knelt down, partly in reverence and partly in awe at the glorious being. A
smile came over her face that shone brighter than the sun above her head. Together,
we were experiencing the present as it is meant to be – a gift – a present -
from the Great Spirit. She said goodbye to the piscatorial deity and released
him back into the gurgling water.
If you have
ever wanted to experience this kind of connection, please feel free to contact
me and I will be glad to assist you in finding your own piece of Zen in the
outdoors.
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