Father and Son Part II: Montana (photos)

[nkuchmak]

Hey guys, 

Thanks for the positive feedback following my trip report from the Elk river drainage. For those interested here are a few words to conclude our trip to the west and a few photo's as well. 

Following our journey to Fernie, we left Canada to venture down to Montana. When we chose to go west, BC was the focus but when I realized we had the time to fit in a side trip to Montana I felt this would complement our journey nicely as it was somewhere we had talked about visiting most of my adult life. It was a pleasurable 4 hour drive south through rolling hills, pastures, mountains and political billboards before we arrived in Missoula. 

We stayed in a cabin along Rock Creek - a very friendly river to the wading angler only about 40 mins outside of Missoula. The rustic cabin would be our home base for trips to other systems and for exploring the nearby area. We had arrived during the spruce moth hatch; a unique terrestrial insect that falls from the spruce trees while laying its eggs in the spruce tree and is beloved by the trout as a calorie rich meal. I began to notice them fluttering about only moments after arriving . I was early to bed  that evening with the visions of trout rising to these moths circling in my head.   

We had a guided guy booked the following day to float the Big Blackfoot, a river name familiar to anyone who has ever held a fly rod due to its role in the movie " A River Runs Through It". This was the river that haunted Norman Mclean and for me definitely lived up to its expectation. The river was full of boulders the size of cars and our fishing techniques simply involved putting dry and dropper rigs along the countless seams created by these obstruction infront of the hungry trout that lay hidden beneath.  The fish caught consisted mostly of rainbows and cutthroats which often interbred with the rainbows to form hybridized cuttbows. Montana no longer stocks trout in its waters; however, many years ago, similar to many Western watersheds, the Big Blackfoot saw the influx of non native rainbow and brown trout into the native bull trout and cutthroat trout waters. While the rainbow trout was the hollywood star in the film, absent from the movie was Mclean's fascination on the challenging nature of brown trout detailed in the book. In the novel Mclean hooks and looses a large brown trout  only to have the fish bury his line in the tree all the while his brother Paul watched the scene unfold from the bank. Somewhat to my disappointment my guide explained there is not a large population in the upper Blackfoot but the ones that are there are often large although they prove to be very elusive.

Our day was great and only got better as the spruce moth hatch picked up throughout mid morning due to rising air temperatures. We boated many cutthroats and rainbows on dry flies and were completely satisfied with our float in the beautiful scenery consisting of parched hills and scattered trees. The intensity dial turned up though when my dry fly dipped below the surface, indicating a fish had taken the sunken dropper below.  Following the hook set it was one of those moments that we as fisherman dream of. Heavy weight and few serious head shakes which had my heart racing and I knew something was different this time. The guide seemed to recognize the situation almost instantaneously and his shift in calm collective mannerisms changed immediately to intense focus and calls of "let him go" and "this is a big fish". Luckily, the fish was hooked in a perfect location without obstruction and following a deep water tug of war later the fish was brought to the net. I don't think I even looked at the fish until  I managed to peer over the side of the raft to see the golden flanks of the brown trout shimmering in the morning light. The guide lost it with excitement. This was the best brown he had guided a client to and his excitement was only matched by my own. A few quick pics and careful release sent this fish back to its home in the pool. The day was made already and the cutthroats and rainbows that followed were really just a bonus as I tried to simply enjoy the scenery and take in the fact that I was floating down a river I had dreamed about since I was a kid. 

While floating a swift section It came only as a matter of reflex as my blissful state was disrupted when my dry indicated another fish had taken the dropper. I set and the rod bent over harder than on any rainbow or cuttbow before. Drag peeled and almost exactly as before, I knew I was into another good one. This fish ran directly up the river this time and headed straight for the boulder s above as I called out "Ohhhh crap". The guide yelled to maintain pressure as I leaned as hard as I thought the tippet would hold. The fish took a dive into a unseen sunken tree as we hovered above it in the raft. I looked down into the clear water only to watch a trout even larger than the last weave my tippet in and out of the branches like a surgeon with images of the two foot bar of gold thrashing wildly until I felt the end of my line go still. I knew he was gone. I had to laugh as this was Norman's result although at least I could say I put a magnificent fish in the net earlier; however, it has been a month since and that fish is certainly haunting me. 

The remainder of our time in Montana was spent as a DIY operation and we explored Rock Creek on our own accord. I have been lucky enough to take a few guided trips in my life and while they are not cheap, I find them to be extremely rewarding, educational and the guides I have had the pleasure of fishing with are really some of the most hard working people out there. That said, as i become more and more confident in my angling abilities beyond my home waters, I have come to realize that fishing unguided has a greater feeling accomplishment that comes when one finds sucess. The flexibility to try your own techniques, methods and fly patterns is really what this sport is all about to me. Our time on Rock Creek was the perfect example of that. 

We had spent the previous few weeks fishing dry flies both in B.C. and in Montana and while this is my preferred method, I had come to realize that the dry fly fishing really didnt pick up until mid morning when the spruce moth's began to fall into the water. Our early mornings on Rock Creek saw me tight line nymphing the runs and pocket water and this method did not disappoint. Rock Creek is not famous for extremely large fish like others nearby systems but instead the population density of trout makes for some of the most enjoyable watersheds to fish in the area. Small mayfly nymphs were the ticket as I plucked a large number of fish out of both primary and secondary water. I found it beneficial to stay away from the very fast currents which often saw the rocky mountain whitefish grabbing the fly before any trout could get to it. While these were super exciting at first as they were a new species for me, soon they became a nuisance. My Dad however, stuck it out with the spruce moth and once the air warmed slightly his patience was rewarded. While I was busy putting bends in the rod upstream, the slower tailout sections began to  see rising trout taking interest in the spruce moths. I moved back down after he put a few nice fish in the net and here we fished side by side to rising trout until the spruce moth fun ran out and the bugs returned to the trees and us to the cooler of beer back at the cabin. It was cycle we repeated. 

We returned to this water on our last evening, hoping to find a few more rising trout before having to make the long drive back to Calgary the next day. The fish again made an appearance; however, our moths and hoppers now being ignored. I went back to nymphing but yet again, Dad stuck with the dry fly. I put some nice trout in the net including a wonderful tiny bull trout, which is threatened but making a comeback in this region. As the sun began to set the last week of fishing hard was beginning to take its toll. The browns continued to rise and I opted to put my rod on the bank as my Dad attempted to stalk the weary rising trout with minimal success. I worked together with him as the caster and myself as the spotter as I cycled my favourite patterns for evening fishing. The fish were keyed in on none of the flies that we had found success with so far in our trip. The low casual rises indicated that they were likely taking something low in the surface film and after an hour of trying I had one of those eureka moments. "Give this tiny mayfly a try" I said as I tied on the tiny fly. The low profile, low light and his aging eyes meant that I would need to be honed in on his fly through the drift but it wasn't long before we knew we had it right. On the perfect cast to an actively rising fish, the fly disappeared in a sip indicating the fish had taken it. A few amazing leaps and we had the gorgeous brown in the net. The sun was behind the hills and with a few hrs left of light we knew It was one of those moments in sport that  could not be improved on. We decided it was time to break down the rods and end the trip on that note. 

 

Thanks for reading. 

Nick

@nickgoesfishing

 

[Chuck Enwinde]

Nice going Nick.  A great read, great photos, and great memories I'm sure.  

[misfish]

Beautiful fish and what a write up.

 

Thanks for taking the time.

[jimmer]

Beautiful Scenery!

 

[KawarthaAngler]

Looks like you have a photographer in the family. 

[msp]

excellent !

[dave524]

Beautiful scenery and nice fish, didn't Robert Redford shoot a movie there ? ?