The Vermont Chronicles 20 April: Hell or High Water (But Mostly High Water)

by Jess McGlothlin on April 20, 2014

in The Vermont Chronicles

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Last weekend marked the second consecutive weekend of fly-fishing adventures and hijinks with the Orvis gang. Comprised of myself, Chrissy, Jackie (the two other fly-fishing girls at Orvis HQ) and Rod & Tackle guys Reed and Tyler, our small gang was headed by Orvis Northeast Regional Business Manager Tom Z. The mission: to teach a series of Fly Fishing 101 classes at an event called Hell or High Water, and hopefully get some fishing of our own in despite high spring flows. We headed out Friday at noon and trekked southwest, heading to the West Branch Angler on the West Branch of the Delaware River.

It was all new territory for me, and as we drove through the New York countryside I shook my head in wonder that New York City was only a few miles to the east. For a Western kid, state lines seem to come up awfully fast in the northeast and everything seems a bit squished together.

We hit a grocery store in the town of Oneonta, New York; Jackie and I armed with an iPhone shopping list and a meal plan for the weekend. Less time in the resort’s restaurant meant more fishing time and a cheaper food bill at the end of the weekend. We power shopped our way through the aisles of the market, ignoring the sideways looks at our fishy apparel and meal plan for ten that relied heavily on meat, potatoes and beer.

Another hour of driving and we reached our destination. We set up the Orvis booth, scoped out the area, bought a few white streamers (that may have just been me), and then retreated to the cabin to grill in a drizzle that reminded me mightily of a fall day in British Columbia. Our group had been assigned one of West Branch Angler’s CEO cabins, and while I had envisioned a cabin with minimal facilities in the woods, lodging was rather luxe. A large porch overlooked the river, we had a kitchen nicer than any apartment I’ve ever owned, and aside from a few insidious spiders squished on the first night, the place was pretty damn spotless.

After a quick meal with our small group and a few friends, including Mike Ward of Helena’s Adipose Boatworks (nice to see a face from home!), Orvis rod designer Shawn, his wife Kate, their new daughter Isla, and Shawn’s buddy Matt and his family, we shoved the dishes into the dishwasher (hey, I said it was luxe) and headed to the resort’s bar for the Hell or High Water kick-off night and general socializing.

The next morning we were up early, cooking a hot breakfast for the gang before heading to the resort HQ to prep for the first Fly Fishing 101 class of the day. We had two women’s-only and two co-ed classes slated. Jackie, Chrissy and I took on the first class at 0830, bundled up against the cloudy morning chill and a nippy breeze. We reviewed the basic parts of a fly rod with students and then headed down to a riverside field to work on casting.

Most of the students had never held, much less cast, a fly rod before, and it was nothing short of inspiring to watch their first casts. I’m continually impressed by how intuitive some people are with rods, while some need a bit more help. I was really curious to see issues I personally struggle with — breaking the wrist, elbow way too far out to the side, etc. — and be able to identify them in ways that helped with correction. This was my first time teaching with Orvis, and it very much reminded me of teaching equestrian students all those years ago. There’s still some very special kind of joy that comes from teaching; Id’ forgotten how much I enjoyed that.

And the whole experience only got that much more pleasant when the sunshine came out later in the day.

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After good casting sessions, we retreated back to the Orvis tent for knot tying, a quick review of flies (which I got to teach; thanks for the education, Headhunters gang!) and a review of basic gear and available resources for further learning. Most folks left with big smiles on their faces, and several of the women were very excited to be able to actually cast and go out on the water with their significant others.

The co-ed group was large enough that we divided up instructors with smaller groups of students. Two of my three were a pair of friends from Manhattan; two guys who wanted to come out and “rough it” for the weekend and explore the fly fishing “game.” One had a bit of experience and wanted to work on his roll cast (we negated the roll cast when his basic cast needed some emergency care) and the other was brand new.

Perhaps the highlight of the weekend came when one of these guys, after I was demonstrating something with the rod, paused and spoke. “You know,” he said, “I’ve always been a fan of xxx (another company present at the event) but since Orvis has girls that can cast, I’m going to check out your stuff now.” (Full disclaimer: I’m no epic caster by any stretch of the imagination.)

But it still made my day.

The three girls left the guys to their final 101 class and headed over to the river for some fishing before dinner and an evening F3T showing. The river was high and muddy after the previous day of rain and spring melt, but we stripped streamers for a bit before calling it a night and heading back to the cabin to cook burgers and reconnoiter.

Thanks to the nicer weather we enjoyed dinner on the porch, joined by Tom Rosenbauer, another member of the Orvis crew. Tom pulled out a bar of his homemade bean-to-bar chocolate (which was pretty tasty) to wrap up the meal. As Jackie said with a grin, “You know it’s a long winter when Tom starts making homemade chocolate.”

We’re all suffering from a little cabin fever up here.

We enjoyed a night of the F3T festival — though I learned that the older northeastern crowd is pretty damn tame compared to the crew back home — had a round of drinks at the bar and then packed it in, ready for a day of fishing on the morrow.

Sunday morning, we packed up, headed out and explored a bit. Shawn, Ward and some of the gang had floated early that morning and we shuttled Shawn’s truck down to the take out, bringing back really good memories of long shuttle days last summer on the ‘Mo.

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Give me a truck and trailer rig to back down a boat ramp and I’m happy.

Tom Z had arranged for his buddy Wayne Aldridge to guide Jackie and I in the afternoon. I’m new to the whole guided thing; this was my second time on a guide trip, the first being last weekend on the ‘Mo. Wayne was extremely patient with the two girls in his boat, battling a strong upriver wind and putting us in position to toss streamers after the Delaware’s resident brown trout population. Conditions were tough — none of the Orvis crowd had a bite all weekend due to high water, cold temps and sluggish fish. I haven’t thrown streamers in a long time, and found myself grinning like a moron as I cast against the wind and stripped, stripped, stripped. I was trying the Depth Charge line (thanks, Tom, for the loan!) and it’s moved up onto my list of “must buys.” Any rod and line that can make me feel like a rock star with streamers is a miracle.

And it was incredibly gratifying to realize that, east or west, trout water is still trout water and it reads pretty much the same.

I had one nice brown take a chomp… he came up from behind two large rocks and followed the fly over the rocks before he finally took it. There’s nothing like watching a fish follow a fly, and I was thrilled to hook into my first Eastern fish. Got him on the reel and to the boat, but lost him as we sailed away when the anchor couldn’t hold the boat against the wind. Sometimes they roll off, but I was pretty happy to have a look at a chubby, well-colored brown.

I liked what I saw.

I’m back on the Delaware in two weeks for my first-ever fishing tournament (going as part of the Orvis girl’s team… think Chrissy and I may be the only girls entered in the competition!) It’s a one bug tournament, and still debating what I’m going to throw; will have to see what the conditions do in the coming days. I do know this, I’d like to hook into a few more Delaware browns.

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Coming back to the office and my desk after a week in Montana and a weekend out and about has been challenging. Work is getting done, never fear, but I catch myself looking out the window and checking USGS water gauges across the country. And maybe shopping for H2 6-wt. of my very own. I’m debating the merits of keeping a PractiCaster at my desk and wondering how quickly I would drive my pod mates mad.

In other news, Fire Girl business has been busy. Finally rallying to put some real effort into the Missouri Book Project, and several other upcoming “things.” I was excited to see a familiar image in the latest Fly Fish Journal (taken while shuttling rigs on the Missouri, in fact) and gratified to see the first Orvis catalog that I’ve worked on come off the press. When you get the catalog with the dude sliding down the rock in waders, read the three storytelling pieces inside… those were quite literally my first contributions to Orvis.

One last story in this novella of a post (if you’ve read this far, I’m impressed.) I was in the laundromat a few nights ago, catching up after not doing any for nearly four weeks, and talking with a Montana friend about the Delaware fishing experience. We were talking about streamers, and I said “strip, strip, strip” aloud… general fishing conversation, right? Apparently the guy a few washers down didn’t think so. Things got very quiet, and I looked up to see him staring at me like I’d grown a third head. Ooops.

Fishing folk. What can I say, we’re a family unto ourselves.

Until next week, cheers.

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