Sundays are for Fishing

 Where do you want to go fishing? "Any place in Vermont" was my reply, and that's how we ended up walking down Jacks Brook with fishing gear in tow. One minute I was putting worms in the back of the Jeep and five minutes later I was taking them back out again. To people who know the area well we must have seemed somewhat peculiar unloading our gear on the side of the road. Jacks Brook flows under 142 through a small culvert between Tyler Hill rd and a cemetery on its way to the river. What we found picking our way through that muddy narrow ravine, reminded me that Vernon is just as good a place to adventure as "anyplace" Vermont.

I'll show you more of Jacks Brook later because that's when I once again tested my bone density. On a trail for the first time, nothing ever goes exactly as expected, and to our dismay we found that at the opposite end of Jacks Brook is a second culvert and a steep climb. It seems that both Wayne and I had forgotten about the train tracks that separated us from our destination. It's an unwritten rule of the woods to pretend that these sorts of things are entirely planned. I suppose this is exactly why Wayne and I typically spend the end of the day discussing exactly where it all went wrong. 

I don't know how it is that Wayne always gets so far ahead of me! 

Well it looks like Wayne in his hurry to get up there, missed this little gem.

 Where did Wayne go?

This tree was fun climbing over with fishing gear in hand.

Things started to look familiar at the top.

Clearly our journey on Jacks Brook had come to an end as there wasn't a chance that I was attempting the bank on the other side of the tracks. Oh I promise you, the brook is down there somewhere in this picture.

A change in plans had us walking up the tracks to Miller's Cove which is a perfect spot on a perfect day to do a little fishing. The thing about being adults with no children at home is that we get to decide when the weekend chores and errands are finished. The difficult thing about being an adult with no children at home is wishing that we had spent more time fishing with them instead of doing chores and errands. We were welcomed by a beautiful family of Canada geese and later by a wary beaver.

Do you see that dark spot in the clouds? I hadn't noticed it until posting it. I wondered if I had gotten dirt on my lens, but it only shows up on the next two photos. 

I don't have the patience to repair equipment, but Wayne doesn't seem to mind. The last time we went fishing below the dam, he pulled in another fisherman's line and gained a lure in the bargain. A few casts later and the river claimed his favorite lure. It's a good thing that Father's Day isn't too far off.

There are a lot of fishermen who have spent years honing their skills. My brother Doug has ten poles and a bass boat. My brother Charles won a tournament on Lake Champlain with a 12lb Bowfin. I prefer to use a bobber and worms when I fish, it reminds me of my childhood days fishing on Lake Champlain with my grandmother's bamboo pole and no reel. I once caught a Freshwater Drum on one of those poles, mostly I caught Rock Bass, Pumpkinseed and Yellow Perch. Wayne likes lures and today he chose a froglike surface lure. I can't help but think about a time when we tied a fishing line with a bobber and worm on it to the dock ladder for our daughter Kayden who then caught a really big bass. I still have Helen's list of all the fish she caught as a kid. I couldn't tell you about the biggest fish I ever caught or how many, but these stories I remember. 

Several boaters traced the bank with rods casting under the trees. I had my eye on a weedy patch on the opposite side of the landing where Jacks Brook's and the river's current merged but Wayne had already claimed it while I was texting pictures to the kids.

I found my opportunity to move into Wayne's spot by way of invitation from the residents there. 

Canada geese in Millers Cove

By the looks of it's mouth, this Perch had been caught more than a couple of times, I tossed it back in after Wayne took our picture. 

Rain clouds had been playing cat and mouse with us since we arrived and it appeared that our luck was starting to run out. With wet shirts and gear, we decided that it was time to head out.

Wayne thought that it would be a good idea to cut through the cemetery and avoid that steep bank again. I wasn't about to be caught walking through a cemetery with fishing gear, so once again I convinced Wayne to take the wrong trail. On the way up the bank, it had given way under our feet and so Wayne warned me to be cautious on the way down. I was navigating fairly well with a large stick that I had found to be my third foot. I even informed Wayne that I would be the first to go down the steepest part near the bottom and then hand up my stick to him.  I clearly remember standing on riprap purposefully positioning my stick and then three days later informing my Physical Therapist that I had taken another fall on the trail.

 

At first I could actually see myself starting to fall, then the most dreadful thought crossed my mind! Wayne's phone was in my pocket and Jacks Brook was directly below me. When I hit, I hit hard; but I had lost Wayne's phone to the river before and I wasn't going to have that happen again. I heard Wayne yell, "Norma are you alright!" My back, my ribs, my shoulder my arm, my stomach, my hip, just about everything had hit the rocks and I was lying in the brook attempting to push myself up. No, I wasn't alright but got to my feet and fished through my soaked pockets looking for his phone. 

My Physical Therapist questioned me again on why I thought I had taken so many falls in the past year ( I was seeing her for a torn bicep from our canoeing incident). Wayne informs me that my center of gravity has shifted with age. Gravity must be the answer. 

Aside from being a poor choice for those interested in fishing, Jacks Brook is an interesting place visited by deer as evidenced by numerous tracks along the brook. There is also an abundance of interesting plants like the Jack In The Pulpit posted earlier, ferns and this plant that I don't know the identity of yet.

Water in VT is a public trust and people are within their rights to be within the low water marks. Jacks Brook is not posted private land, though there is a house being built above the brook. Wayne and I did our best to stick close to the waterway. 

 

It's almost a week after that I am writing this blog, tomorrow is Sunday. I'm still very sore from last weeks expedition and Wayne's phone is intact. I also survived the embarrassment of emerging from Jacks Brook soaking wet, carrying fishing gear and knowing once again that Wayne's trail pick would have been the better bet.  In the end, I highly recommend casting a line at Miller's Cove on a Sunday with your family and I recommend visiting Jacks Brook; but perhaps make it two separate adventures.  Oh, and one more thing Martin, do you suppose Jacks Brook is named for the plant found there? -Norma Manning

 Full text of,  A history of the town of Northfield, MA (1875) in which Jack's Brook is identified under Introduction 9.