Beautiful evening on the Connecticut

{from yesterday}

Hard to believe the week has gone this quickly but it always does in Vermont. Earlier in the week, we joined Hardy to fish a bend of the Connecticut just below Canaan. A beautiful pool with plenty of room for three to fish. We had brought Quimby’s float tubes but after struggling with them a bit, Hardy and I both abandoned them and just waded. Hardy and Alan each had two nice fish – fat rainbows. Alan hooked his in the tongue and it didn’t make it, so we brought it home for breakfast – he pronounced it the best meal all week!



While the first half of the week was sunny and warm, perfect for swimming, the last couple of days have been cloudy, rainy, and cold. Wednesday we headed south to Barre to pick up water bottles that unfortunately hadn’t been delivered to John’s. We remedied that by stopping at Shaw’s for some smaller bottles that will hopefully fit the stand. En route south, we encountered a ferocious storm with torrential rain, lightning, and thunder. One lightning bolt was literally right on us! It was pretty intense.

On our way home, we stopped in Hardwick to have dinner with Roni and Warren at Claire’s, which promised locally sourced vegetables and meats. It was excellent. Left around 10:00pm and made it home by 11:15, ready for bed.

Today, Alan and I investigated the Canadian grocery scene, the first stop being US Customs to find out what we were allowed to bring back into the States. The good news – beef and chicken now okay. The bad – no tomatoes or corn. Boo!

Back at the house, we lunched on yummy pasta from Vine and Table and then Alan and I ventured over to New Hampshire for some driving and fishing. Surveyed Junction Pool and Carr Bridge and found them packed – five fishermen within 15’ of Carr Bridge alone. We thought we were out of luck but decided to check the dam below First Connecticut and found it empty! Yea! Waders on in a flash, we trouped down the trail and headed upstream. Beautiful evening – cool with blue skies, no insect life to be seen but the night was young.

After we found the working floatant (I do have some bottles to discard), we dry flied up and down the stretch, catching one nice rainbow and not seeing much other action. But it was nice to be on the water, fishing together. And the Trident 5 weight is casting beautifully now that we put 5 weight line on it.

Unfortunately, evenings on the Connecticut always end too early when you have to journey back over to Vermont to make dinner, so at 6:30, just when the insect action was starting (something small), we packed up and headed west. A relatively short drive later, we’re about to dine on filets on the grill, corn, ratatouille, and pan-fried potatoes. Oh, and salad – with a tomato from Georgia!

Another excellent day in the North Country.

Unknown Pond, Found!

The last couple of years, we have been exploring south of Camp in the Silvio Conte Wilderness Area and surrounding privately owned land. Picnics at the Lewis Pond Overlook and a couple of fishing expeditions later, we are reasonably acquainted with the area. However, one pond had eluded our grasp, despite Alan, Jacques, Bandit and I giving it a real try last fall. But, yesterday, after much climbing and much mud, we found it -- and Unknown Pond was unknown no more.

Having missed the whole month of July, which we never do, we arrived here to spend the first week of August with Mrs. Cattier. Hardy is working this summer as a sous chef at Quimby's, so he was already here. Hardly had I walked in the door than the phone rang! (Pause to watch a heron gliding across a calm Great Averill.) We decided we would hook up Sunday morning and try the Gore Mt road to Unknown, which Hardy had found gated in late June.

He arrived at Camp at 8:30am, bearing breakfast fixings and proceeded to make himself comfortable in the kitchen, whipping up a bacon, onion, potato and egg scramble that was delicious and filling. Later in the day, we sure were grateful for that filling breakfast! Hopped in Hardy's Suburban and rolled down south on 114 to Island Pond and then on to Henshaw Road. Back in the woods, we split off onto Gore Road and then came to the gate -- locked. Bummer.

But Alan was not willing to give up that easily. He had the Garmin and triangulating our position, pronounced triumphantly, "It's only 2.7 miles, guys, and not much elevation gain. Come on!" Never one to pass up an adventure, Hardy and I looked at each other and said "ok!" Now, since we were not anticipating hiking, we weren't exactly outfitted for it -- except for Alan, who has his hiking boots and socks (maybe he had this plan all along?). My choice was Tevas or sneakers without socks (went for the Tevas); Hardy's was Crocs or put on his waders and wading boots -- he went for the latter. And off we went.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, and nowhere near the pond, I looked at Alan and said, "This isn't a 2.7 mile hike." "No," he admitted, "It's not. But we're almost there." Soon after that, we arrived at the logging clearing that signalled the end of the road. A path continued on through muck and grass (Tevas were a good choice). Oh, and did I mention that it has been and continued to be quite steep?

While mucking it up the mountain, Hardy's sharp eyes spotted a whole moose skeleton. No rack but an intact skull and other bones. A little past that, Alan headed right off into the woods. Hardy and I continued on the path until Alan shouted that he had found the pond. Hardy spotted a way through walking through a little creek that was obviously headed for the lake. Creek is probably not the right word -- it was more like a moving bog with earth sucking pools that threatened to consume your whole body. Hardy bounded his way through the mud, even carrying two rods; I was much less graceful but did emerge eventually, to have my faithful heroes prepared to assist me by photographing me staggering out of the brush. Chivalry is dead, ladies and gentlemen!

The pond was kind of anticlimatic. It was low (been dry here) and algae-ridden and had a really muddy bottom. Hardy waded in (had to make some use of those waders) and cast some but couldn't get far enough out to where the fish were. There was an amazing abundance of frogs. Never seen so many in my life. And it was a beautiful place -- very remote, only populated by three cabins. A little reminiscent of Perry Pond, although warmer.

As Hardy and I piddled around the lake, exploring and catching frogs, geek guy Alan fiddled with the GPS. "Hey guys," he announced,"it was 2.7 miles *as the crow flies* -- we did more like 4.1!" Yes, Alan, we did. And we were about to do it again since Hardy had to be at work in like....an hour. Oops.

Suffice it to say, walking down and out went faster than going up and in (as it always does).

And that is the story of how Unknown Pond became known.