I'll admit that in summer, I fish more than I probably should, if that is actually reason doing the talking. It could be some sort of Puritan guilt, despite the fact that I was raised a Catholic and have very few Puritans in my lineage. It is a weak guilt at best. The truth is that summer in Vermont is a special, incredible and fleeting experience and in my daily travels, Blueberry Lake is almost always on the way there or on the way home. Any of us that are lucky to live in proximity to it are blessed. It is a magnificent feature of our community.
Certainly, on the weekends and holidays, the lake draws many. It can be a hassle to park. There are canoes and kayaks, rowboats, floats, stand-up paddleboards, families and dogs, many fishermen – people doing what really can only be described as the wonderful act of "Vermonting," as I like to call it. It is amazing to me that the place can stay as clean as it generally does. It says a lot about most of the people who live here or visit us. We cherish the beauty around us and we take good care of it for the most part. It's nice.
Of course, Monday mornings are where it's at. To be there early on a Monday morning when the sun is low, the mist and a few geese are the only floating objects and the water is a sheet of glass, dimpled only by rising fish. It is magical. Even the beavers seem to want to stay on land to avoid spoiling the utter beauty and stillness of the place. I'm kind of addicted to it I suppose. But there are worse fates. The season is too brief for such an addiction to cause excessive damage. My wife might argue with that, however.
But I will say that for all the times I sneak an hour or two here and there throughout the summer, I usually catch very little. It's hit or miss as fishing can be. The pumpkinseeds and small bass are plentiful, but the big fish are few and far between. I fish with a fly rod most of the time and this enhances the experience of catching smaller fish. I'm disappointed when I catch nothing, marginally disappointed when I catch a few small ones. I'm happy when I catch a lot of small fish, marginally joyful when I catch some bigger ones. But the other-worldly elation of hooking into a big fish is ridiculous. I think it touches upon our primordial hunter-gatherer essence.
This guy pulled me around for 20 minutes before I even got a look at him. The truth is that with the very light tackle I use to catch the smaller fish, the big ones always break off. This one didn't. It was a thrill to hook him, fight him and boat him, but the thing I enjoyed the most was gently reviving him in his exhausted state and watching him swim away. I hope to catch him again next year when he's had time to put on weight!
Enjoy summer everybody and go fishing if you can. They're in there!
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