One way to really get to know Vermont is to fish it. For example, did you know that at least 30 streams in Vermont are known as “Mill Brook”? That the speed limit on the Chiselville Covered Bridge near the town line between Sunderland and Arlington, is “walking speed”? Or that the fine for exceeding said speed limit, at least according to the sign on the bridge, is $1?

These nuggets are just the beginning of what Dave Vanat, 34, of Jeffersonville and Andy Iwaskiewicz, 29, of Cambridge can tell you about their homestate. And how did they learn it all?

“Fishing,” says Iwaskiewicz.

Dave Vanat (left) and Andy Iwaskiewicz. Photo courtesy of Dave Vanat.

Both men are long-time trout fishermen. Both are tan and fit; at first glance you might take them for runners. Then you’ll notice Vanat’s faded T-shirt that says, “Trout, Trout, Trout it on Out… These are fish I can’t live without!” Inside Vanat’s home, you’ll find a large map of Vermont with color-coded towns. They both spend hours in the outdoors, wading in pools and hiking to hard-to-reach streams and brooks. And they have issued themselves a personal challenge: to catch trout in as many Vermont towns as they can. Through their experiences in meeting this goal, they have gained a deep appreciation and knowledge of Vermont. And their number totals for the last two years are incredible: By July 2009, Vanat has caught fish in 164 towns; and Iwaskiewicz, 185.

The Challenge

The idea of visiting every one of Vermont’s 251 towns and cities is not new. In 1954 Arthur W. Peach founded the 251 Club, an organization supporting people trying to accomplish the feat and recognizing those who had. Back then, Peach estimated that fewer than 100 of Vermont’s 377,747 inhabitants had done it. “A swift turn from one of our dirt roads,” Peach wrote, “and you are on your way to the rewarding experience of a lifetime and memories good until the years are frosty.”

In 2009 the 251 Club has over 4000 members, but Vanat and Iwiescowcz’s fishing quest goes far beyond the scope of anything Peach or any other 251’ers envisioned. Iwaskiewicz pats his copy of the Vermont Atlas and Gazetteer—the most detailed map of Vermont and its back roads. “This is our bible,” he says. In addition to getting to know roads and towns, they must also immerse themselves in the state’s natural landscape and its waterways.

The idea to fish Vermont towns was Vanat’s. Growing up, Vanat fished the Lamoille River with his mother. As he got older, he branched out beyond his home river. He enjoyed seeing new and different places—and, of course, catching fish. By the end of 2003, he reviewed the notes and records he keeps. That year, he realized, he caught trout in nine Vermont towns. “I decided,” he says, “to try to catch as many towns as I could.”

Shortly thereafter, he began doing a lot of fishing with Iwaskiewicz, who learned a lot about fishing from his friend. “He can tell,” says Iwaskiewicz, “if water holds trout just by glancing at it.” Iwaskiewicz was intrigued by Vanat’s quest to fish different Vermont towns. “In 2006,” he says, “I sort of watched, and Dave took me around. I think I caught 63 towns that year.” Meanwhile, Vanat hit new heights by being the first Century member of the Vermont fishing quest: He caught trout in 100 Vermont towns.

The following year, Iwaskiewicz issued his own challenge. “It became a competition,” he laughs. And the student became the master: starting at zero, Iwaskiewicz caught trout in 164 towns to Vanat’s 155. “Sometimes,” says Iwaskiewicz, somewhat sheepishly, “I would sneak off to get a town without him knowing.” He even withheld his numbers from Vanat at times.

“It’s good fun,” says Vanat. The friends and competitors have extended the 2008 contest into this year, shooting for two-year totals—with one eye on 251. 251 may not be possible. Take Swanton, for example, where most of the lakes and streams there are filled with warm water and lily pads. “How are we going to catch trout there?” he asks.

Logistics

Once you catch fish in all of the towns close to where you live, the logistics of adding to your totals become increasingly difficult because of sheer distance. So Vanat and Iwaskiewicz took a driving fishing trip in July. They started fishing in Springfield, and fished their ways through Baltimore, Chester, Grafton, Rockingham, and Westminster on the way to a campsite in Townshend Family Park in southern Vermont.

Vanat and Iwaskiewicz have made a science out of the traveling fishing trip. “There’s always a driver and a navigator,” explains Iwaskiewicz—one of them steering and the other studying the Gazetteer and calling out the next turn. When they find a spot, they park, assess the fishery, select gear (“whatever works for where you’re fishing,” says Iwaskiewicz, who uses live bait, lures, and flies), and hit the water. As soon as a catch is made, they check the town off the list, and move on. Most of the time. “Sometimes you want to stay and catch a few,” says Vanat.

For the Townshend weekend, they were gone for 48 hours. They covered 600 miles and caught trout in 17 towns. Fish Stories Not every trip goes smoothly. Last year, Vanat wanted to check Barton off his list. He loaded his canoe to try his luck in May Pond. “I had my paddles,” he remembers, “and my life vest. I had my bait; I had my lures; I had my license. I got everything into the boat on the pond and talked to some old-timers there.” Only then did a terrible realization hit him: he had left his fishing rods at home.

Another time, Vanat was fishing the Connecticut River in Averill, when a friend landed an 11-inch native brook trout. Most of the time, Iwaskiewicz and Vanat practice catch-and-release, but sometimes they keep fish to eat. In this case, Vanat’s friend didn’t have a stringer, but still wanted to keep it. He laid it in the grass on shore and continued fishing. A little while later, a friendly old yellow Lab (“it was really old,” says Vanat) came along to say hello. When they finished and the friend went to retrieve his fish, he couldn’t find it. Vanat looked across the road to see the dog, which was trotting home, tail wagging, with the missing fish hanging on either side of his mouth.

When Doug Vanat and Andy Iwaskiewicz began fishing as kids with poles and worms, they never imagined the discoveries they would make, the sights they would see, and the experiences they would have. But they have continued to fish, and it has taken them far. “It becomes,” says Iwaskiewicz, “less about the fishing than the learning, the memories, and getting a cross-section of what this state is really all about.”

Mark Aiken teaches skiing at Stowe and is a freelance writer. He grew up fishing on Lake Champlain.