Falling in Love With Vermont

A Southern girl gets charmed by whiskey, maple syrup, and fly fishing the Green Mountain State

As a red-blooded Southerner, I’ve always been a bit skeptical of the Yankee North. I mean, not only is their cuisine generally sub-par, but there was also that whole War of Northern Aggression and the Reconstruction carpetbaggers BS.

Generational grudges are a thing here in the South. They are about as traditional as buttered grits and fried chicken. The recipes are passed down from grandparent to grandchild over and over like family heirlooms.

But much to my Granddaddy’s post-mortem dismay, I spent most of last week falling in love with Vermont.

I was invited for a media visit to WhistlePig Farm & Distillery in Shoreham, Vermont, for the launch of its limited-edition wheat whiskey, "CampStock."

The brands covered all travel expenses, lodging, and meals, which is a pretty sweet deal.

The trip also involved camping and fly fishing, which are honestly cooler perks than the whiskey. Although, the whiskey was admittedly a nice perk. At one point, the camp host uncorked a bottle of WhistlePig The Boss Hog X, which retails for $999.99, and poured everyone a snifter. That’s a lot for a simple, small-town girl who thinks Gentleman Jack is a splurge. It was definitely a pinch-me moment.

While the whiskey was indeed fine, the maple syrup tasted like heaven, and the landscape was picturesque, it was the people of Vermont that really won me over.

Straight off the shuttle from the Burlington airport, I met Emily Miner, an avid outdoorswoman who carried my bags and informed me, “You’re Alice. You’re the one I want to talk to.”

Emily is a Vermonter who can trace her family ties to the land for generations. She shared her passion for the outdoors and told me glorious stories about her grandmother, who hunted well into her 80s, would pop squirrels with a .22 through the open windows of her house, and put a clause in her will that would have her significant land holdings sold for charity if her family ever put her in a nursing home. (This is exactly the type of old woman I aspire to be.)

Emily’s parents met at an archery shoot (Ain’t that a cool love story?), and her whole family hunts and fishes. She informed me that there are just as many women at her family deer camp as there are men, maybe more, which led me to think I might need to hunt Vermont (but only in the early fall before the cold weather up there gets insane).

Fly fishing was also part of the game. A string of inexperienced journalists followed our Orvis guides, Tucker and Pete, along an emerald green path through the woods that opened into the most beautiful stretch of riverbed I’ve seen outside of scenes from A River Runs Through It.

While I have plenty of angling experience, it was my first time with a fly. I tried to muscle my way through everything, but Tucker and Pete have the long-suffering patience of … well … experienced fly fishermen.

Their coaching helped me learn that fly fishing takes grace, finesse, and a willingness to let things happen. These are lessons I probably need to apply to life in general but should definitely implement in my budding new interest in fly casting. I’ve never been good at going with the flow, but I almost reached the point of letting go and achieving a serene state of meditative peace that can apparently only be experienced on a Vermont river with a fly rod in hand.

I had several bites but failed to land a trout, which just means I’ll have to wind up back in Vermont at some point.

After our trip to the river, Tucker and Pete joined us for a whiskey-laden fireside happy hour back at the farm. The three of us chatted about Moose and ticks and CWD, swapping stories as every outdoorsman does around a campfire.

I asked questions about fly fishing, and they answered patiently, with the same tranquility they possess when teaching hardheaded journalists how to toss a fly.

But when I asked about Tarpon fishing, Pete’s entire demeanor changed. His calm serenity turned to fire, his aura lighting up brighter than the substantial campfire we were gathered around. I could tell this guy was passionate about fly fishing in general and Tarpon in particular. It was beautiful.

It’s always a joy to meet passionate people, and one of my favorite parts of being a journalist is watching regular Joe kind of people light up when they talk about the things they love.

I saw that beautiful spark when Emily told me stories about her grandmother and when Pete talked about dropping dry flies in front of Tarpon.

So thank you to Stefan, who enthusiastically showed me his trail camera photos, Jesse Ray for pouring whiskey and telling jokes, Mitch and his handlebar mustache for their whiskey expertise, Emily for sharing tales of her Nan, and Pete and Tucker for their patient teaching and passion for all things fly fishing.

Rural Vermonters aren’t all that different from rural Southerners. If you swap maple syrup for buttermilk biscuits, whiskey for moonshine, and the Green Mountains for the Blue Ridge, the conversation is pretty much the same. And when it comes to a passion for hunting and fishing, you don’t have to do any swapping at all.

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Where You Can Find Me This Week

While I was away camping and sipping whiskey in Vermont, my writing was featured in these fine publications.

Field & Stream
We Spent Weeks in the Woods Testing Insect-Repellent Clothing—Here’s What Actually Works — A rundown of the best insect-repellant gear on the market. I did a side-by-side test of Sitka and Forloh clothing on a mother/son turkey hunt this Spring. Both really work!

Recoil
Best 20 Gauge Shotguns For Home Defense: Downsizing Doesn’t Mean Compromising — The 20 gauge is often overshadowed by its buffer, more famous cousin, the 12 gauge. Although most things in life are easier if you’re toting a 12-gauge, downsizing to a 20 might be in your best interest, especially when it comes to home defense.

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Quotes That Made Me Go Hmmm

“I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate, but most of all because of her indomitable people. They are a race of pioneers who have almost beggared themselves to serve others. If the spirit of liberty should vanish in other parts of the union and support of our institutions should languish, it could all be replenished from the generous store held by the people of this brave little state of Vermont.”

– Calvin Coolidge (30th U.S. President)