Can you think of a place along Vermont's town of Georgias' shore where it’s forested and there are no cottages in sight? A place seemingly unspoiled by development where waterfalls lead to the shore of Lake Champlain . Somewhere you can stand in the shadows of tall trees while wetting your fishing line. I can, quite simply Mill River Falls is a natural paradise.
In the hundreds of times I’ve driven by it, I never really thought that much about the place. It was just always this bridge over the road that a bunch of people parked around. Occasionally I’d see a fishermen scoot across the road with a pole and bucket. It’s a relatively small area that contains a lake floodplain ecosystem, old river oxbows, mature trees, and about 1800 feet of shoreline. The Lake Champlain Land Trust press packet quotes Rod Vallee of Georgia as saying that “ Mill River Falls is one of the most important natural areas left in Georgia . ”Thanks to the diligent work of the LCLT and Georgia Conservation Commission the public will always be able to access this site.
Future generations will forever be able to access this property as it is one of Vermont ’s newest additions to the list of state lands. “We had discussions with Anna Neville about conserving her property stretching back seven years before she generously donated her land to us in 2003,” states Chris Boget, assistant director of LCLT. He continues, “We retained a conservation easement and donated the land to the State of Vermont Agency of Natural Resources.” The Department of Forests, Parks, and Recreation website lists the 35 acre parcel as Mill River Falls State Forest .
The area provides more than permanent recreational opportunities for paddlers, hikers, fishermen, and hunters on Lake Champlain . It is habitat for many different creatures at different times of the year. Mill River is one of only a few places where Steelhead, or lake dwelling Rainbow Trout, are known to spawn. Four rare plant and three rare fish species call the Mill River Falls home. Large dead snags provide nest sites for wood ducks and mergansers. The marshes in spring are productive fish spawning and feeding areas. Mill River Falls is abundant with wildlife habitat.
When I first visited the place, two fathers had spread their kids out on the banks with fishing poles. Rock Bass and Pumpkinseed were biting today, the crappie action hot the day before. I rounded a corner in the trail to see fresh deer tracks, and was overwhelmed by the bird calls in the canopy above. It seems the place has enough to please everyone, except for parking.Right now everyone has to pull off on Mill River Road or next to the bridge. The LCLT website says that a sign and better parking are in the works.
Access is a bit hidden, one has to walk a bit down the Pines Road a couple yards to access the trailhead on the right. What a splendid place for a short stroll it makes. Apparently the only question remaining with the property is what to call it. The LCLT lists it as a natural area on it’s website. Vermont Agency of Natural Resources Forest, Parks, and Recreation lists it on their website as a state forest. I figured I’d ask whether it will be a state forest, park, or natural area. The folks at FPR told me to get in touch with their forester, the people at LCLT referred me to the same person. So I got in touch with Gary Sawyer the State Lands Stewardship Forester who said, “I don’t know what designation the Mill River Falls parcel will receive.” With natural beauty abound, Mill River Falls will forever remain publicly accessible, whether it be state forest, park, or natural area.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Carleton's Prize or Arnold's Mystery?
So for those that don't know there is a very small (about an acre or two at best) island in Lake Champlain off the southern tip of the town of South Hero. It rises vertically from waters edge up sheer cliffs to a 30 foot plateau. Called Carleton's Prize, it sits between two larger islands, Stave, and Providence. Its been so named since the revolutionary war when the Governeur Generale of Canada, Sir Guy Carleton brought it to notoriety.
As local lore goes the morning after Benedict Arnold escaped from behind Valcour Island with what was left of his small fleet, it was very foggy on Lake Champlain. Not believing the Americans could have slipped by them in the dark (which they did), the British patrolled to the north and east searching. In the heavy fog they sighted a ship and summarily lined up and pounded it with their cannons. Of course once you begin firing blackpowder you can't see what you're shooting at.
After a half hour to hour of not being fired back at, either a breeze came up or the fog burned off. It was then the British realized they had not been firing on a ship.This distraction is what allowed Arnold to escape to the shores of Addison county where he then proceeded to burn his fleet to prevent capture. Local lore goes further to say that local Islanders felled logs and floated them out and were then hoisted on the small island to look like masts. I dismiss this as there is no way anyone on the islands could have been in contact with Arnold's fleet, or known their plan to escape.
The problem is only one book I've ever read about Arnold or the Revolutionary war confirms this. No less than a dozen others completely fail to mention "Carleton's Prize". They all say the British fleet sailed down the lake after Arnolds fleet. Talk about a project for Art Cohn and the others down at Lake Champlain Maritime Museum. All we need to do is find a few cannonballs to confirm the story. To think, Lake Champlain has kept this mystery to herself even to this day.
As local lore goes the morning after Benedict Arnold escaped from behind Valcour Island with what was left of his small fleet, it was very foggy on Lake Champlain. Not believing the Americans could have slipped by them in the dark (which they did), the British patrolled to the north and east searching. In the heavy fog they sighted a ship and summarily lined up and pounded it with their cannons. Of course once you begin firing blackpowder you can't see what you're shooting at.
After a half hour to hour of not being fired back at, either a breeze came up or the fog burned off. It was then the British realized they had not been firing on a ship.This distraction is what allowed Arnold to escape to the shores of Addison county where he then proceeded to burn his fleet to prevent capture. Local lore goes further to say that local Islanders felled logs and floated them out and were then hoisted on the small island to look like masts. I dismiss this as there is no way anyone on the islands could have been in contact with Arnold's fleet, or known their plan to escape.
The problem is only one book I've ever read about Arnold or the Revolutionary war confirms this. No less than a dozen others completely fail to mention "Carleton's Prize". They all say the British fleet sailed down the lake after Arnolds fleet. Talk about a project for Art Cohn and the others down at Lake Champlain Maritime Museum. All we need to do is find a few cannonballs to confirm the story. To think, Lake Champlain has kept this mystery to herself even to this day.
Moose Bog and Trout River, Adventures With Dill
So for some odd reason I got to thinking about all the times I'd been to Moose Bog up in Ferdinand. It's my favorite kettle bog, which is basically a pond that has a floating mat of sphagnum moss around its edges. The middle is the open water of the pond. These are actually one of the least safe type of bogs because of lack of tree roots throughout. I'll never forget the first time here, it was a college field trip for natural history of Vermont and the pitcher plants had turned purple from the frost.
There was also this guy in class whose name was Dill, and he was from New Jersey. Dill was a good guy, but a notorious clutz. Our prof. gave us all a lecture on bog safety, encouraged us to go explore. He gave one stern warning though. "Don't go out to the edge of the bog and start jumping up and down." Those of us who had bog trotted before knew bogs were spongy, and we could bounce a little bit to make plants nearby quake as well. A kettle bog is a bit different in that, when you walk out to the edge and bounce, it creates waves along the edge of the sphagnum moss. I was right in the middle of trying to take a picture of an otter swimming across the pond when all of a sudden I heard a shout, and then yelling.
I turned to my left to see a group of students rushing toward the edge of the bog. Yep, Dill had disregarded our prof's warning. Went right out to the edge, and jumped up and down. The howling was Dill, who had broke through the mat of sphagnum, and was in the bog literally up to his armpits. There was much cussing involved as everyone had to take pictures, before pulling him out. Soaking wet, and smelling very bad, Dill was blessed with his own seat in the van on the way home.
Now, same natural history of Vermont class, different field trip. This time our prof. had taken us to Montgomery to sample invertebrates in Trout River. It was before the bridge was damaged in the flood, and posted signs went up everywhere. This was my first time here, and I had heard great things about the river. Pretty easy task, those with rubber boots turn over rocks, while everyone else sits downstream with sampling nets waiting in the current. I had never realized how much life there really is under the rocks, so this was a real eye-opener.
This trip is also when I began to take an interest in fly-fishing.It was late October, but the weather was cold and breezy. Our prof. advised us to be careful, as the rocks along the edge are slippery. Yep, you guessed it. No sooner had the words come out of his mouth when a loud splash came from from the back of the group. Followed by a couple more splashes as Dill struggled to get back up.
This probably should've ended the excursion, as nobody wanted to deal with hypothermia setting in. A quick survey revealed between everyone we had enough dry clothes at the van for Dill to change into. Instead of heading back, Dill already wet, stumbled down the middle kicking things up as he went along. We emptied our nets into sample jars and skeedaddled, out of there quicker and with more samples than we probably would've had otherwise.
There was also this guy in class whose name was Dill, and he was from New Jersey. Dill was a good guy, but a notorious clutz. Our prof. gave us all a lecture on bog safety, encouraged us to go explore. He gave one stern warning though. "Don't go out to the edge of the bog and start jumping up and down." Those of us who had bog trotted before knew bogs were spongy, and we could bounce a little bit to make plants nearby quake as well. A kettle bog is a bit different in that, when you walk out to the edge and bounce, it creates waves along the edge of the sphagnum moss. I was right in the middle of trying to take a picture of an otter swimming across the pond when all of a sudden I heard a shout, and then yelling.
I turned to my left to see a group of students rushing toward the edge of the bog. Yep, Dill had disregarded our prof's warning. Went right out to the edge, and jumped up and down. The howling was Dill, who had broke through the mat of sphagnum, and was in the bog literally up to his armpits. There was much cussing involved as everyone had to take pictures, before pulling him out. Soaking wet, and smelling very bad, Dill was blessed with his own seat in the van on the way home.
Now, same natural history of Vermont class, different field trip. This time our prof. had taken us to Montgomery to sample invertebrates in Trout River. It was before the bridge was damaged in the flood, and posted signs went up everywhere. This was my first time here, and I had heard great things about the river. Pretty easy task, those with rubber boots turn over rocks, while everyone else sits downstream with sampling nets waiting in the current. I had never realized how much life there really is under the rocks, so this was a real eye-opener.
This trip is also when I began to take an interest in fly-fishing.It was late October, but the weather was cold and breezy. Our prof. advised us to be careful, as the rocks along the edge are slippery. Yep, you guessed it. No sooner had the words come out of his mouth when a loud splash came from from the back of the group. Followed by a couple more splashes as Dill struggled to get back up.
This probably should've ended the excursion, as nobody wanted to deal with hypothermia setting in. A quick survey revealed between everyone we had enough dry clothes at the van for Dill to change into. Instead of heading back, Dill already wet, stumbled down the middle kicking things up as he went along. We emptied our nets into sample jars and skeedaddled, out of there quicker and with more samples than we probably would've had otherwise.
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