Drinking and Ice Fishing: Going Beyond IPAs in Vermont’s Crowded Beer Scene
Photos by Nathan Borchelt
The wind. It roars through the valley of Stowe, VT, like a creature possessed, a steady blast that spikes upwards of 50 miles per hour. It’s the same wind that made landing in the small Burlington airport in a small plane a white-knuckled descent, a successful landing that triggered spontaneous applause when we hit earth. The same wind that was part of a massive storm system stretching from the Mid-Atlantic to New England that made my departure from Washington, DC, a rocky, stomach-dropping experience. The same storm that grayed the skis and spit snow and ice at Vermont as if the state had somehow offended Mother Nature. The same storm that blew walls of snow in blinding white clouds off the ground and across I-81 as I drove from Burlington to Stowe Mountain Resort.
And thank the heavens that I was in Vermont, and close to some of the state’s finest—and most sought-after beers. It would all start with a four-pack of Focal Banger Double IPA along with a four of Lawson’s Sip of Sunshine, both acquired at Stowe Beverages, a friendly liquor store five or so miles from the mountain base. But who knew my time there would introduce me to a new, secret brewing project that would leave those cans in my hotel fridge (well, at least till I had to pack).
I was there to check out the new GMC Sierra AT4, a comfortable beast of a truck with everything you’d need to brave the winter roads of Vermont. And to ski, ice fish, and snow mobile in the area while driving that truck and the Sierra Denali, which boasts a higher-end, less-rough-and-tumble interior but still possesses all the rugged features of the AT4. Turns out, the weather made everything—save driving—a frigid and nearly fruitless endeavor. Ice fishing in single-digit temps with a wind racing upwards of 60 miles per hour across a frozen lake convinced me that this activity demands beverages, but the early hours that hosted the event made tossing back even a few session beers seem like a risky gamble. It was c-o-l-d, and the only aerobic activity consists of jigging your line—basically shaking the short rod with a less-than-deft flick of one wrist. The conditions were so raw that the resort was forced to close some of the ski lifts, so after ice fishing I managed to ski where I could until I lost feeling in my toes. The temps rose into in the teens the next day, with less wind—downright balmy compared to the previous day. Snowmobiling was still pretty arctic, but the resort opened the gondola, which offered some much-needed shelter from the world outside.
And though spring has since come to Vermont, melting the snow and ushering in what is sure to be a truly epic mud season, those frigid days in Vermont live—as if trapped in a frosted bottle—in my memories as evidence of both the East Coast’s notorious winter conditions and as proof of the immeasurable value of finding welcome shelter from the storms. And after each harrowingly cold day, the Solstice Restaurant at Stowe became my refuge, in part because it was attached to the Lodge at Spruce Peak where I slept each night, meaning I didn’t have to brave the temps to walk to other spots in the pedestrian village. But even if you don’t bed down at the lodge, Solstice still justifies the minimal effort to visit.