Trout Talk

The water we don't fish

I’m in northern Vermont at Jay Peak Resort, a sweet little year-round resort nestled up against the Canadian border. But I’m not fishing.

And, honestly, I’m not sure why–I could have easily tucked a little 3-weight rod into my luggage, or even carried a rod onto the plane. Instead, on little day-trip drives around the resort, I’m finding myself admiring obvious trout water under the shroud of some of the most dramatic fall foliage I’ve ever seen.

Regrets? Oh, yeah. But I’m not too upset about it. I still slow down as the car crosses over a river or a stream, and instead of planning and executing an afternoon of fishing, I’ve found myself photographing covered bridges and watching wild brown trout fin in the current under the shadows of these New England staples.

Sometimes, just being around trout water–and new-to-me trout water, at that — is enough to satiate those deep-seeded urges to don a pair of wading sandals and cast over fish. I’m enjoying Vermont like a “normal” tourist, as my girlfriend explained to me. My head is up, the leaves are brilliant and I’m taking in a new place, but this time, without a fly rod.

Generally, when I travel, there are fish involved. I just got home from a week in the Bahamas, and I’m looking forward to a November trip to Chile–the point of both trips was and will be fishing. But these few days in Vermont have been enjoyable for different reasons, even if I’m having a hard time enunciating them.

I guess its best to say that, as my girlfriend says, I’m enjoying this time as a non-fisher would.

But I’m still looking at trout water.

By Chris Hunt. 

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