Memories of Montana

Sorry for the long delay.  School and soccer started up in August and the past two months have gone by in a flash!  It happens every year and yet I am always surprised when I have to write 10/1 on my whiteboard at school.  Crazy.

So, Montana.  I loved Montana and specifically, the city of Missoula.  I visited a friend that I used to work with and he was nice enough to let me crash for several nights at his new house by the college.  I had never driven through Wyoming so my first time was an experience.  Seeing the Speed Limit signs say "80" was fantastic and I enjoyed the scenery and the views.  I ended up crashing in Sheridan and I found some delicious food at Wyoming's Rib and Chop House.  I had the juiciest pork chop of my life.  If you ever end up in Sheridan go there.

As soon as I arrived in Missoula after a beautiful drive through Montana my buddy put me straight to work moving some heavy items around because they were redoing their basement in order to rent it out.  "Sweat equity" he called it.  I was fine with all of it, but obviously I wanted to fish.

He had access to a drift boat, so my dream came true of not only seeing, but floating the Big Blackfoot River that first evening.  I have probably seen A River Runs Through It over 100 times (seriously) and it was pretty special to be there.  We got on the water way too late and I knew we had no chance of making the takeout before dark, but I didn't care.  We even made his wife's calendar:

Floating through the serene canyon throwing hoppers was awesome and Henry maneuvered the boat with ease.  There were caddis, olives, and terrestrials around, but throwing a BIG meal was a nice change from the relatively smaller mayflies and caddis I had been throwing in early July.

My first ever Montana fish was a feisty little bow that took an Iris Caddis on the surface.

My second Montana fish was a healthy Cutthroat that took a big hopper in a little channel right up against a big rock.  He slammed it, but getting him in on 4x was quick and painless.  I was stoked!

The views were amazing throughout a float I will never forget.  Thanks again Henry!

The rest of my trip I did a lot of exploring.  I wanted to fish every major river in and around Missoula during my time in Montana and I fared pretty darn well everywhere I went.  I had done some research, but it was "dry fly season" and so the river told me what to throw.  There were PMD's out on Fish Creek, which was gin clear when I fished it.  I did some nymphing when it was HOT, but the dries came and the fish ate.  I also ran into some whitefish, which fight (kinda), but sometimes a fish is a fish.  I found a nice run and nymphed out a whitefish and then a few trout before I found a killer spot to throw dries.  

This is one of my favorite pics from the trip.  A beautiful Cutty that took a split case PMD nymph in a perfect run that looked super fishy.

I then found a great dry fly spot after a little hike in the heat and although it took me a few patterns, I found the PMD they wanted.

This fish was about 17" and he absolutely slammed the above dry fly with reckless abandon.  I caught a half dozen or so out of the same hole.  Good times!

I then hit up Conflux brewing downtown and I highly recommend you visit there if you're ever in Missoula.  Whenever I travel I try to picture what my destination looked like before non-indigenous people showed up.  It turns out Missoula was a LAKE before it was much of anything else. #history

My journey continued and Henry and I hit up Rock Creek on day 3.  We nymphed some shady spots because it was already hot and sunny when we hit the water.  The fishy spots had fish and the stonefly shucks on the exposed rocks were the only invitation I needed to throw some smaller Pat's Rubber Legs.  The bottom line is that fish eat stone flies; almost all the time.  I had to wade out in moderately fast water on some slippery rocks, but this pocket below a drop off in front of a bigger rock just said, "Cast here."

I caught three fish out of about a 3 foot area.  My first cast was halfway down and I just lifted up to find that this brown had already gobbled my stonefly right up.  I swear this fish had two eyes, but you wouldn't know it from this photo.  Nymphing is sometimes the way to go when the river says so.

During my trip to Spain in June I found "Forget Me Not's" in the Pyrenees Mountains.  My Grandmother loved them and sure enough they showed up again on the banks of the Bitterroot River south of Missoula.  

My last day (sad face) was an adventure!  I decided to drive east and head up to the headwaters of the Blackfoot so I talked with Henry, looked at some maps online, got in the car, and went.  I found serious wilderness and I climbed down a fairly steep cliff, caught some fish on small mayfly and midge nymphs, and then walked upstream to find this...

It's impossible to tell from the photo, but the water was 10 feet deep and crystal clear.  It was hard to fish because I spooked some of the native Cutts as soon as I was near the water and the slower moving water didn't provide any cover for my quarry.

Here's one that I caught up there.  You can tell from the pink on its belly that it's a Westslope Cutthroat.

I felt so fortunate to find such a beautiful spot that I didn't even care about catching anymore trout.

Advice: Don't be as stupid as I was.  I kinda knew I was in grizzly country and I kinda knew I should have had bear spray, but I didn't.  The good news was that I didn't see or hear one, but I met some campers and the first thing they asked is if I had any spray.  So, my advice is to buy some bear spray and bring it with you when you're in an area known to harbor grizzlies.  The campers told me a story about how they had come across several in that area because they camp there each and every year.  I always have my head on a swivel when I'm fishing alone in the middle of nowhere, but I need to be smarter.  Thanks campers, I will heed your advice.

I was just going to drive back to Missoula, but I had crossed a few Big Blackfoot access points on my way to the Little Blackfoot so...I stopped at one on my return journey.  I found a beautiful looking area and although the water was raging on the big river, it was pretty clear.  I saw some more stonefly shucks and the rest is history.  I hooked a few smaller fish, but then this gorgeous bow took my little Pat's and it was on.  He tried to go downstream into some fast flippin' rapids, but I was able to keep him in his hole and land him.  Definitely my favorite fish on the trip.

I headed back to town and had an "enlightening" conversation with some locals at a gas station/restaurant about politics.  I embraced their culture and had some huckleberry moonshine that was in a bottle labeled with a piece of tape (that's when you know it's good).  

Admiring the sunset on that evening with my windows down ride back to Missoula I felt something driving through the valley.  It might have been a moment of divine intervention, but I was just overcome with the splendor I was lucky enough to witness after driving nearly 13 hours a few days prior to visit a place I had longed to set my eyes upon for nearly two decades.

I am grateful for that moment and as the snow is falling today here in Colorado I will never forget the fish, food, companionship, delicious local beverages and most importantly, nature.  

Don't worry Montana, I will return.