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Without Nature
Climate change is easy to deny until it’s in your face
Early September is a good time of year to catch a blue-winged olive mayfly hatch on mountain streams in northern Vermont, so I set my work aside and drive to a trailhead near Stowe. There I leave my car and hike the dirt road beyond the gate for a mile before bushwhacking down to the mouth of Cotton Brook, fly rod in hand. I have done well fishing this stream in years past, catching wild trout along with rainbows during long, dreamy afternoons. With mild temps and a partly cloudy sky, I’m excited about the day’s prospects.
Before even reaching the brook, I sense that something isn’t right. I leap over a rivulet winding through the woods that shouldn’t be here. A few moments later, I step onto a carpet of silt and loose rock where Cotton Brook should be. I scramble over an immense pile of branches and uprooted trees only to find a shallow, cloudy stream snaking through mud. Without thinking, I cast my fly onto the water several times before reeling in my line. I know better. I know there’s a mudslide somewhere ahead and that no fish will rise until I get above it. I’ve been in this situation before.
While walking upstream I am surprised by the extent of the damage to the brook and the sheer volume of debris. The slide must be a big one. It can’t be too much farther ahead. But I…
