If you're keeping track, this is indeed another out of state adventure. The folks at work asked if I still worked there. I have to remind people this is a very unusual summer. But for this weekend, I was fishing in Montana.
Most of our adventures are on foot. A few are on bike. But back in the day they were almost all with a flyrod in hand. Every summer growing up I'd spend a couple of weeks in southwest Montana and Yellowstone National Park. So this trip with my father was a return to my youth.
It's a long drive to Helena. About eight hours long. Even with an 80 mph speed limit on the freeway it takes seemingly forever. We stopped for the night outside Missoula and continued the next morning to get on the river by that afternoon.
Our guide, Tim, met us just below the Holter dam. The Missouri River is such a great fishery the river always seems to have drift boats on it. We joined the stream... on the stream.
Our first afternoon was slow. We caught a handful of rainbows and had a couple of fish on that took our flies. Well. My flies. I tend to strike a little too hard.
The next morning we were again the dam. And again, we weren't alone. We were surrounded by one billion of our closest friends. The hatch was on. As they fell to the water the fish had breakfast.
The fish were feeding, for sure. But with so many too choose from, the fish weren't that interested in our flies. We could see them feeding in the slack water, but they just wouldn't bite. We moved downstream.
Like the day before, we had lots of chances and landed a few rainbows. As we approached a big bridge over the river I cast against the buttress. It was a place our guide said he'd never seen a fish caught. But now he can't say that.
It was a big brown that took my fly. I played it carefully, knowing I'd broken off far too many fish on the trip already. Relief when the fish was finally in the net. Many, many pictures, but all shot quickly to get the fish released as soon as possible. It swam away.
We didn't get any other browns, but did get a few more rainbows. Even as we were taking out at the boat ramp in Craig we kept casting and had a hit. Alas, we didn't land that fish.
But we did have a good couple of days on the river flowing through the lands of the Niitsítpiis-stahkoii ᖹᐟᒧᐧᐨᑯᐧ ᓴᐦᖾᐟ people. And a lot of time driving. Montana (and Idaho and eastern Washington) are weird places. So much open space. So different than the comparatively crowded and forested western Washington.
Fishing isn't for everyone. The kids can all do it effectively, but they don't clamor to be on the water. Even I only get out with a rod a couple of times a year. But my father? Fishing is his thing. And any time I have a hankering, he knows where to go.
