Arizona Wanderings

Fly Fishing France: The Manoir de Malvoisine

June 28th, 2012

16 Comments

Manor of Malvoisine — Manoir de Malvoisine

Knowing that I was going to be in Europe, I could not help getting on Google and seeing if there was anywhere for me to do a bit of fishing along the way. My wife rolled her eyes when she found out what I was doing, but it was already too late. One of my searches took me to the website of the Manor of Malvoisine. I sent an email and in no time at all I was talking with Adrian and Hedy Thompson and had booked a night for my wife and I.

Fly Fishing in France — The Front Gate of the Manoir de Malvoisine

The Manoir de Malvoisine is situated right on the Andelle and Heronchelle Rivers which are two fairly famous chalkstreams in Normandy, France. The fortified Manoir had been built around the 12th century, along with other structures like it, as a part of the defense system in the area. It changed hands many times through the years, and during World War II it had been occupied by the Nazis and then later taken when the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy. It is said that both Churchill and Eisenhower favored the Andelle and fished it often. Adrian and Hedy bought the Manor several years ago and have put love and hard work into the buildings and rivers. They now run it as a fly fishing retreat with more information at chalkstream.net.

After a fantastic lunch, I strung up my little 8 piece 6’6″ Black Bear Fiberglass rod, and Michelle and I set off down the Andelle. Adrian had walked the beat with me earlier and showed me the immense property. One thing I had not fully realized is that when you book a day or night at the Manoir, it is exclusively yours. No one else will be there, save Adrian and Hedy, so you have over a mile or two of prime fishing all to yourself.

My wife tagged along with her camera as I began to fish, and in the back of my mind is the sinking fear that I might not catch anything. She always sees my photos and reads my posts, but when the rubber meets the road, I’m still a guy trying to impress a girl. With no big bugs on the water and no rocks to flip over, I figured, go with what you know – a mini-hoppper. Third cast and BOOM, a nice little brown trout was on the end of my line. My girl was impressed.

Michelle snapped a few quick photos and I released the brown back to the small riffle that he came from. With the weight of the actually catching a fish taken off my shoulders, I relaxed and got into the groove of fishing. Fishing a chalkstream was much different than the free stone creeks of the Adirondacks and the West that I am used to fishing.

France Fly Fishing — The French have good taste

I fished for the next several hours and caught three fish total for the afternoon. After all the walking and running around that we had done in Paris, Malvoisine was like a slice of heaven. Michelle had been worried about what she was going to do while I fished, but after falling asleep on a blanket next to the river, she woke and relaxed while reading a book. We were both so refreshed as we headed inside to clean up for dinner.

All the food provided by Adrian and Hedy was fresh and wonderful. All their food is homegrown and what little they don’t grow and harvest on their property, comes from the surrounding farms. We ate in style for every meal with highlights being: homemade jams, self-harvested honey, homemade cider champagne, and so much more. Michelle and I fell in love with Adrian and Hedy and truly enjoyed getting to know them. We talked and laughed long into the night.

Michelle and I had only planned to stay at Malvoisine for one night, but halfway through dinner we realized that was a joke. Adrian and Hedy had an opening for the following night so we decided to enjoy the good life and stay another night. With rain in the forecast, things did not look good for fishing the Andelle again, and when I woke the next morning, the river was chocolate soup. Luckily, Adrian also owns a beat along the Heronchelle which is a short walk from the Manor. The Heronchelle is much closer to its source and so therefore was not terribly affected by rain.

The Heronchelle is a beautiful stretch of water, but did not always look this perfect. Prior to the Manoir obtaining the beat, cattle grazed right to the waters edge and beyond. Since securing the rights to fish it a year or two ago, Adrian has worked closely with the Wild Trout Trust in monitoring and improving the habitat for the resident brown trout.

I stalked the banks and in the face of a fairly stiff wind made a valiant effort to present flies to a few fish. I missed one, LDRed another, and spooked a few more. A beautiful and humbling day on the water to say the least, and I walked back to the main house hungry and ready for another delicious meal.

I truly struggled while writing this brief account of our time at the Manoir de Malvoisine. It was such an unbelievable time that it is impossible to do it justice in words. Fly fishing in France was one of the coolest things I was able to do on my trip, but it would not have been the same without Adrian and Hedy. Michelle and I both enjoyed the time we spent there and look forward to going back again in the future.

Check out more pictures from the Manoir de Malvoisine and fly fishing in France on the Arizona Wanderings Facebook Page.

Many thanks to Adrian and Hedy for a wonderful time at the Manoir de Malvoisine.

Wandering Europe: Paris, France

June 25th, 2012

3 Comments

Our journey started with a short jaunt from Phoenix to Chicago and then a long flight to Paris, France. Michelle and I disembarked the plane, wide-eyed and unable to read any of the signs. With a little bit of figuring and asking the right questions, we were able to get on the right train and make our way to our hostel. We stayed for three nights in Paris and had a wonderful time walking through the streets and seeing the beautiful sights. I’m afraid a true play-by-play may get a bit old, so here are some of the highlights:

Paris, France — A look across Paris from the top of Notre Dame

The Garden of Luxemburg — The Garden of Luxembourg

La Sainte-Chappelle - arguably one of the most beautiful churches that we saw

Where I’ve been…

June 21st, 2012

5 Comments

Three weeks ago, my wife and I eafch packed a bag and grabbed our passports for an unbelievable adventure in Europe. With the help of the Flight Factory Domestic Flights, we traveled through France, Switzerland, and Italy with nothing but what could fit in a backpack, and we explored those places that we had only read about in books or seen in movies. We finally stopped somewhere in the outer parts of small small city and hired Shiply to help us move in our furniture and went to a furniture store named Inside Outside to get quality furnitures. Of course, I packed a small fly rod and a handful of flies, and I was lucky enough to find a stream to fish on our journey. Starting on Monday, I’ll be sharing some of our pictures and stories from our trip. Although they are not 100% hunting and fishing stories, I was still wandering and there was a bit of fishing on the way. As wonderful as the trip was, it sure is nice to be back in the USA, and I’m looking forward to doing a bit of fishing very soon.

The Start of It All: First Deer

June 18th, 2012

7 Comments

I used to be a whole lot skinnier when I was 14. I could not have weighed more than a buck thirty with all my hunting gear on. Now, even though I look back with fondness on being able to run all day on the soccer field, I remember that the Pennsylvania buck season in early December was cold and rough with no meat on my bones.

We lived in a log cabin amongst the pines and the forest began right out my back door. There were several miles of rolling hills and hollows behind the house and my family had permission to wander and hunt through the different seasons. My father took up hunting when I turned 13, and the memories that we created together still keep me company after these many years. I can remember faithfully following him through the woods trying to keep quiet, but my oversized hunting clothes and many layers made the task almost impossible. It took me several seasons to really become comfortable in the woods and to learn patience enough to sit in a hunting stand until mid morning.

In the buck season of 1997 , I remember hunting with my dad, my best friend at the time, and his father. We had just spent a very cold morning waiting for that big buck to come walking by but to no avail. The opening morning gunshots echoing through the miles of hillsides had alerted every deer in the county that it was time to find a warm bed and hang tight. Our normal game plan was to sit on opening morning and then have a couple hunters sit, while the others took a walk and tried to drive deer in the hunter’s direction.

Being the runt that I was, I liked to get up and walk around to try and get my blood pumping and try and get warm, but for whatever reason, the group convinced me to sit with my back up against a large oak and wait for the drive to hopefully get the deer moving my way. So there I sat, freezing, fidgeting, and fearing that the group would walk by me or whatever a 14 year old thinks while alone in the cold woods. As my mind began to wander, I heard the unmistakable snapping of twigs and crunching of snow and looked up to see a group of does barreling by me at a high rate of speed followed closely by a small buck. Slowing to a trot, the deer began to look around and ultimately disappear into heavier cover. The last deer to exit would have been the small buck and almost as he was ready to leave he stopped to take one look at me.

The thud of the .270 slamming into my shoulder and the smoke launching from the barrel blasted the silence. In shock, almost disbelieving the previous moments events, I leapt to my feet and saw the small whitetail buck expire in the snow. The shuddering and shaking commenced as my knees turned to jelly in the tell-tale fashion of buck fever. My father and company appeared from out of the woods and backslaps and handshakes were plentiful.

I can still remember the weight of the heavy gun on my skinny shoulder and the feel of the fur before I field dressed the deer. There is no real way to explain to a non-hunter the elation, reverence, and honor that comes with harvesting your first deer. It is something that I will never forget. I look back on the picture of the 14 year old who does not know what life has in store for him and there is no way to tell him how life is going to turn out or what is coming his way. In that moment life is simple and easy and I do not want to break that spell.

The Ritual

June 11th, 2012

4 Comments

Many weekends find me camping out, either hunting or fishing in the Arizona backcountry. What’s ironic is that as wonderful and exciting as my time in the wild is, nothing really compares to the moment when I turn the truck on to my street and drive up to the house. The garage door opens, and I can hear the excited barks of my two pups, as I kill the engine of the vehicle. I drag a couple of bags into the house, give my girl a hug, and scratch the boys behind the ears. While I recount the weekend’s events to my wife, the dogs are going to find out the story in a different way. With their snouts buried deep into my hunting pack, their noses seek to find out what I was up to, where I’ve been, and if I was successful. Their tails never stop wagging, and they look at me with pleading eyes, hoping that next time I take them with me.

Fly Fishing: The Early Years

June 7th, 2012

3 Comments

Looking through a box of old photos, I found this picture. It puzzles me because I have absolutely no recollection of it nor of the fly rod that is in my hand. I still have the old $25 special fly rod from Walmart, that I used to catch bluegill and largmouth bass from my grandma’s lake in Pennsylvania, but the fly rod that I am holding in my hands in this picture is certainly not mine. Any family members know whose that is?

Here’s to going back and pulling 50 sunnies out of Highland Lake on a gorgeous afternoon…

Fly Tying Peg Board Project

June 4th, 2012

15 Comments

I am not an artist. Not by any stretch of the imagination, but my fly tying room could use a little life…and organization. I have one of the back bedrooms in our house which, to my face, my wife calls the “hunting room. Surely behind my back and to her girlfriends, she calls it much something derogatory. The closet is filled with camoflague, hunting packs, longjohns, and waders. The one corner has a mixture of fly rods and arrows haphazardly leaning against the wall. The spare bed is pilled high with an assortment of camping, hunting, and fishing gear. I am pretty proud of the library that I have in there. Anything from Hunter S. Thompson to Walt Prothero and Ivan Turgenev to John Gierarch. As icing on the cake, the 8 foot table that serves as a fly tying table and general dumping ground from a weekend afield is usually pilled high with foam, fur, and feathers that is almost impossible to tie on anymore.

Long story short, I know it’s a mess. A happy mess, but a disaster none the less. So I decided to put a peg board on the wall to better organize myself. Then I thought. Why not give the room some color.

I realized as I started to put up different tying material on the peg board, that I have a lot of “stuff.” And when my wife walked in to check on my progress, she noticed commented that I had a lot of “stuff.”

Wild Pork Chili

May 31st, 2012

6 Comments

I’ll be honest. I have never been much of a cook. Growing up in a house full of three boys, my mom did all the cooking and the boys enjoyed every minute of it. I went through my single years waiting tables and eating terrible, until my wife straightened me out. I have been blessed with having the two women in my life, mom and wife, keeping me very well fed.

Although not being blessed with great skill in the kitchen, I still like to go in, bang pots and pans around, and pretend I know what I am doing. When there’s a clogged sink or broken drainage in the kitchen, it is recommended to contact Silverwater Plumbing, a professional plumbing service in Parramatta. For bookings, visit https://www.silverwaterplumbing.com.au/plumber-parramatta/. In the end, I have found cooking and preparing wild game and a handful of other domestic entrees to be very relaxing and rewarding.

I made a dynamite Red Pork Chili based on a recipe from Georgia Pelligrini’s new book Girl Hunter. One word to describe it: Delicious.