Recent History

There's something special about fishing freestone rivers and streams during the two to three week time span at the tail end of spring runoff. As these waterways are dropping and clearing, the trout are remarkably willing to take a fly. In Montana that window of opportunity is closing, the transition into the dog days of summer is in full force. Looking back, there's no denying that the past three weeks or so of post-runoff fishing has offered up some of the best freestone fishing since, well, the same time last year.

Make no mistake, the fishing that is in store for the remainder of the Montana summer is incredible...terrestrials, PMDs, caddis and attractor dries make for plenty of action. And the higher elevation, headwater fisheries are just now coming into their prime for the summer. The spectacular fall season can't be discounted either, what with its lonesome rivers and lovestruck browns. Of course the pre-runoff fishing of April ranks right up there as well, often presenting the first opportunities of the year to catch trout on the surface during times of BWO activity. Yet the season that arguably trumps all of these is that amazing post-runoff window in July.

During this period, the trout are generally stacked up in predictable holding water. The trout haven't seen a hook in a month or more, and fishing pressure often remains relatively light (salmonfly rivers excluded) due to many anglers apprehension to wade or row bank-full rivers. Water temperatures are at ideal levels, hatches are occurring and the trout are hungry after a prolonged period of poor feeding conditions in muddy water.

Whether it is a small creek, or a big brawling river, this period of time often provides some of the most productive fishing of the year on that particular fishery. Anglers can expect high numbers of fish per rod, but what's more is that many freestones will give up some larger than average trout at this time. On Montana's Gallatin River for example, trout in the 12- to 15-inch range are standard fare throughout the year, but during this post-runoff time period, persistent anglers are suddenly tying into fish of 18 inches or better with some regularity (see the above photo of a 19.5 inch Gallatin brown caught 2 weeks ago). This phenomenon plays out time and time again, year in and year out on freestone trout rivers throughout the west. From Arizona's Black River in May, to Montana's Yellowstone River in July, it is a great time to be on the water.

It's an undeniably difficult window of opportunity to predict. Many an angler has traveled great distances, only to arrive at the river's edge to find a raging, muddy torrent of water. Wait too long and many of the lower elevation waterways will be low and warm, their finned denizens less active. The potential reward is worth the risk, for if you keep your ear to the ground and manage to time it right next year, you just might be in for some of the best fishing you've ever experienced.

In Search of Salmonflies

I consider myself a fairly avid angler, yet one of Montana's classic fly fishing experiences has long eluded me...the salmonfly hatch. In large part I blame the situation on having resided in Billings for far too long, distanced from the hatches of southwest Montana. It wasn't as if I didn't make the effort in those years, it was just that my annual pilgrimages to the epicenter of salmonfly activity and locations such as Gardiner, Big Sky, Cameron and Melrose, never seemed to find me in the right place at the right time. I never so much as saw an adult salmonfly, to say nothing of catching a trout on a salmonfly dry.

This year would be different I told myself. My recent relocation to Bozeman was a step in the right direction, putting me within striking distance of some of the best salmonfly water in the country on rivers such as the Big Hole, Madison, Gallatin and Yellowstone. In fact I made significant progress in my quest to experience the hatch this year when, in late June on the Gallatin River, I observed an adult salmonfly for the first time. The occurrence was bittersweet since the river was in no shape for fishing, still in the throes of runoff.

Luckily I had a recent opportunity to get over and float the upper Madison River for a day. Reports varied, but the word was that salmonflies were out on the river somewhere between McAtee Bridge and Lyons Bridge at the time, with fair to good dry fly fishing. We arrived at Lyons mid-morning to find somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty vehicles in the parking lot! Opting to try and get ahead of the pack a bit we drove downriver and launched at Windy Point. The morning started off terribly slow, and our insistence upon fishing the big dries didn't help matters. The day was windy and cool and the few salmonflies that we saw were clinging lethargically to the riverside willows.

Finally at about 1pm things warmed up and before we knew it salmonflies (and goldenstones) were in the air and on the water in large number, and quite a few fish were looking up for them. We were frantically pounding the banks with our big, ugly dries while fish crushed naturals on the water all around the boat. I missed two or three good fish before finally hooking up. The big rainbow was holding in a pocket, maybe two feet off the bank under an overhanging tree, the take was viscous and the hook set solid. The strong fish fought hard in the fast current. As I plucked the Rogue from the corner of the trout’s mouth, I realized that I had, at long last, accomplished my goal of catching a trout on a salmonfly.

The action died as quickly as it had started, despite the continued presence of naturals on the water as we floated downriver. Our best guess was that the fish had gorged themselves on the big bugs and were no longer all that interested in eating. It was fun while it lasted.

At this point salmonflies are pretty much done for the year in SW Montana. There may still be a few buzzing around in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, or between the lakes on the Madison River, but for all intents and purposes it's over. I'm already looking forward to next years hatch, and I have a new goal...a 20- inch plus trout caught on a salmonfly!

Grand Canyon Trout Reduction Project

I have an ecological conscience, but...

I just received some very bad news about a trout fishery near and dear to my heart. As I did when a similar situation arose with this fishery a few years ago, I feel the need to share the news.

If you're interested in learning a bit about the situation, continue reading. If not, tune in next time for your regularly scheduled programming.

Once upon a time I lived in AZ, on the S. Rim of the Grand Canyon. I was already a fairly avid angler at the time. Not long after moving to The Canyon I naturally began exploring its depths with a backpack and a fly rod. I soon discovered the incredible trout fishing of Bright Angel Creek and Tapeats Creek.

I'll never forget my first trip to fish BA Creek. I made the long hike down the S. Kaibab Trail and upon arrival at the creek I wasted no time in tying on a curious, beadhead creation of mine. As I worked my way upstream along the creek's pocket water, drift after drift was met by beautiful, wild browns and rainbows. I was mesmerized by the whole experience. To this day that tattered fly still resides on my bookcase as a memento.

I visited BA Creek countless times during the years that I lived at the canyon, and I've returned to visit many times since. BA Creek is without a doubt my favorite fishery in AZ. Despite the pull that BA Creek had - and still has - on me, I managed to slip away to explore other trout streams in the canyon, among them was Tapeats Creek.

I believe that Tapeats Creek offers the finest fishing for wild rainbows in all of AZ - Lee's Ferry included. The plunge pools along the creek's course are teeming with hungry rainbows, including some very healthy fish. The creek is ridiculously remote, the drive to the trailhead is a serious journey and the hike into the canyon is - if you're fortunate - death defying. The creek is seldom fished and while I wouldn't go so far as to call it a virgin fishery, it's about as close as it gets, particularly on its upper end.

These fisheries have it all in my mind: wild country, wild trout, solitude and scenery. Soon though, these great trout fisheries will be severely damaged. NPS is out to kill as many trout as possible in the park.

You see, the GC trout fishery is essentially a downstream extension of the famous Lee's Ferry tailwater on the Colorado River, created by Glen Canyon Dam. The pre-dam Colorado was a warm, silty, highly fluctuating river with great backwater habitat. The post-dam Colorado is clear, cold and calculated. Sadly, since the construction of the dam, many of the native fish species which once thrived in the river have either dissapeared entirely or, as in the case of the Humpback Chub (HBC), are now protected by the Endangered Species Act. These days the river and its tributaries through the canyon are dominated by non-native trout.

You can probably guess where we go from here...the dam isn't going anywhere and NPS is mandated to do all it can to save the HBC. The non-native trout are one of the few variables in this whole equation. The justification for killing trout is that they are preying upon HBC. Studies have found this to be true, there's no denying it, but the level of predation is rather negligible. Trust me, predation by trout is the least of the HBC's concerns. I'm generally all about native fish preservation and restoration, trout or not. However this is a unique situation, the ecosystem has been degraded/altered to such an extent that it's no longer suitable habitat for the natives which evolved to thrive in the pre-dam river. HBC can't reproduce in the post-dam Colorado, it's too cold. Their reproduction is limited to a single, warm water tributary, the Little Colorado River (LCR) - a severly limiting factor for HBC.

Of course the only real solution to restoring native fish populations in the GC is to first restore the river to pre-dam conditions by either decommissioning the dam, or installing a temperature control device in the dam to take water from various levels in the reservoir, thus warming the river to simulate pre-dam conditions. Both scenarios carry some potentially serious consequences.

Several years ago this very issue came to a head, and thousands upon thousands of trout were killed in the GC by NPS and SWCA. Among the casualties were over 500 spawning brown trout in BA Creek, including some fish approaching 30 inches. Fortunately I was able to experience the fishery prior to this tragedy. BA Creek is major spawning habitat for Colorado River trout, and a fish weir placed near the creek's inlet during the last round of trout reduction efforts proved an all too effective way to pick off fish moving into the creek to spawn. Fortunately the program was halted upon the appointment of a new superintendent. Over the subsequent few years, the fishery has steadily recovered from that event, fishing quite well in '09 and '10. It was a short respite. The project has become a renewed priority for NPS, perhaps due to an increased availability of funding for such projects under the Obama administration.

To be clear, I fully support the mainstem river trout reduction efforts in the vicinity of the LCR confluence, as an experiment to see if localized trout removal will in fact benefit HBC. What really bothers me is the tributary removal efforts throughout the GC and in particular the apparent lack of science behind them. Why is there no PIT tag data to prove the hypothesis that browns spawning in BA Creek are subsequently migrating 27 river miles to the LCR confluence and preying upon juvenile HBC? If these trout are being killed based on an assumption, that is utterly irresponsible. Tracking the movements of trout in the mainstem and tributaries seems like the logical first step in this process. Furthermore, neither BA Creek or Tapeats Creek are HBC habitat, never have been, they're simply too cold. NPS openly admits that in some cases (Tapeats) the removal of non-native trout will be done despite no expected benefits to native fish populations in the creek. That seems like a pretty radical philosophy, implying that there is some inherent value to the removal of non-native species in and of itself.

It looks like these incredible trout fisheries are soon going to take a serious blow. Although it is ultimately the goal of NPS, trout will never be eliminated entirely from the greater GC aquatic ecosystem, it's simply too interconnected and too vast to accomplish such a task. Pisticides will never be employed in the park due to the liklihood of incidentally harming native fishes with its use. Fish barriers will never be built at the mouths of restored tributary streams since they would block the upstream passage of not only trout, but also native fish. Rather, seasonal fish weirs and backpack electro-shocking will be the removal methods of choice on tributaries...effective enough to suppress the trout population greatly, but not eliminate it entirely. This project too will fade in time, a future administration will undoubtedly divert funding, putting the project on hiatus, allowing the trout fishery to rebound for a few years. There's nothing quite like bureaucratic inefficiency.

I'd like to tell you that there is something you can do if you'd like to get involved, but aside from writing the park superintendent, Steve Martin, I'm not sure that there are many options. I've seen no mention of an Environmental Assessment and public scoping period for this project, but hopefully that is still to come. If you'd like to keep an eye out for a public comment period on this project, periodically check here.

For further reading on the issue enter, "Bright Angel Creek Trout Reduction" into your search engine of choice. The issue has been written about and addressed by such individuals as Ted Williams and Charles Gauvin, the former president of TU. For a very interesting article in Fly Rod & Reel by Ted, written during the turmoil surround the initial project in '03, click here. I've always respected Ted's writing, but in his more recent article on the subject for High Country News, Ted has gone so far as to suggest that any angler with an ecological conscience should be supportive of the trout reduction project - I beg to differ.

Legend & Lore

I don't remember just when or where I first learned of the creek. Maybe it was at Bud Lilly's in West Yellowstone as I eavesdropped on a hushed conversation while perusing the fly bins. Or perhaps it came from loose lips over a frosty pint at the Silver Dollar in Ennis. Truth be told I probably couldn't trace my fascination with this particular fishery back to any single source. Bit by bit over the past couple of years I've accumulated a pittance of knowledge about the place...never enough to really go by, but just enough to keep me intrigued.

Legend has it that the creek hosts a mysterious, almost ghostly run of very large cutthroat trout. What's more, the rumor of this run is substantiated by sound, but antiquated, stream survey data compiled by fisheries biologists. My own trips to fish the creek have done little to sort out fact from fiction. Were it not for an occassional rare, unabashed report from fellow anglers, I'd probably have given up on the place long ago.

Last Friday marked my third trip to fish the creek in search of its phantom cutthroat trout. The two previous trips had resulted in few if any trout caught and those that were caught certainly weren't of mythical proportions. This trip proved to be no different, nary a trout was brought to hand despite the fact that a very able angling comrade and I spent eight hours methodically prospecting some excellent looking water along various portions of the stream.

Fortunately the creek offers more than just a long shot at hooking up with migratory cutthroat trout. The watershed harbors a remnant population of a rare, wild fish native to Montana - the arctic grayling. I've caught the species in some mountain lakes throughout Montana - and even as far south as Arizona - but this particular population is special. This is one of the few remaining fluvial/adfluvial populations of grayling occupying native habitat in Montana - the only state in the lower 48 where the species still occurs naturally.

I'll always look forward to returning to this mountain valley for its unspoiled beauty and for the grayling, yet I'll always be hoping for something more. I've bought into the rumors and hearsay, and it may have been a stream-side conversation on Friday that cemented my belief. As we got back to the truck after fishing an unproductive stretch of water, another vehicle coasted to a stop alongside us. The rig's lone occupant, an angler, stepped from his truck and proffered a bit of experience based knowledge of the creek. As he rigged his rod he seemed quite confident in his ability to find what we had missed. The thought of him catching big cutts in our backwater that evening was almost too much to bear, but at the same time it was an oddly comforting thought.

Should I ever find myself tight to a big cutthroat on this stream I'll thank my lucky stars. In the meantime I'll enjoy the legend and lore that the creek is enshrouded in, and the process of unraveling the mystery.

Zero to Hero

I have been spending a fair bit of time fishing lakes in southwest Montana over the past week. This is notable only because it isn't my usual style. Typically during runnoff I'll seek out fishable moving water in the form of tailwaters, spring creeks or high elevation tributaries that are running clear.

Yesterday afternoon a friend talked me into traipsing up to a little lake in the hills south of Bozeman. This is a lake of local legend, and is certainly no secret. It is well known for harboring large, finicky cuttbows which feast on the lake's robust scud population.

This was my first visit to the lake, and my expectations were quite low as we marched up the slick, muddy trail to the lake. The place has been immortalized by the pen of John Gierach, who has famously written about the difficulty of catching the large fish that reside here. What's more, friends who fish the lake have basically told me that getting skunked here is routine. The bar was set low, very low.

I had ingeniously departed sunny suburbia without a jacket and as we rigged up our rods on the lake shore, the clouds let loose. I sought refuge under pine boughs, all the while wondering if anyone has ever died of hypothermia in June.

Amidst the downpour I spied several aggressive rises by substantial fish. These trout weren't sipping midges, in fact I don't know what they were after. My guess is they were chasing scuds near the surface. It was enough to get me off the porch and out wading through the muck and mud.

Prior to our arrival at the lake my buddy swore that he had a fairly unorthodox technique that was the ticket for catching fish in this lake. It sounded like a sure thing, apparently he'd found success with it here in the past. Yet, for whatever reason his confidence in that technique flagged upon our arrival at the lake. He backpedaled and went with the obvious fly, a scud. I had been clinging to the vestige of hope that his "secret technique" had offered, but it was quickly slipping through my fingers as I watched him peruse his fly box and scratch his head.

For the first couple of hours we tried this and that, with no luck. Finally about the time that the storm broke and the sun warmed us, I had what turned out to be a bit of an epiphany. Over the next hour or so I landed one brute and lost one more. My buddy even got in on the action, smiling for the camera with a whale of a trout before all was said and done.

I'm no hero, my success here may very well have been a complete fluke, or simply beginner's luck. Regardless, I'm certainly looking forward to getting back up there to find out. Perhaps more surprising is the fact that Rat Lake has opened my mind to the pleasurable possibilities of stillwater fishing. After all, what's not to like about a big pull?

The Quest for Clarity

One of these years I'm going to put down the fly rod and pick up another hobby during runoff. Getting into whitewater kayaking, mountain biking or tennis might be just the ticket to help pass the time. One of these years...just not this year.

This year the search for fishable water during runoff is on yet again. My usual fishing haunts of the Madison, Gallatin and Yellowstone are out of the question right now. The Missouri is an option, even with flows cranked up to 16,000 cfs, but I'm looking for something a little closer to home. Smaller tributaries such as the Boulder, Shields, The East, and etc. are still blown out. Mid-elevation trout lakes are said to be fishing well, but I have a difficult time getting excited about stillwater fishing below timberline.

My quest for clarity usually begins each morning on the USGS website, pouring over flow charts, looking for some glimmer of hope. The freestones have been dropping pretty significantly over the past few days, but they're still big and muddy, and there's still a lot of snow in the mountains. So the quest continues, and probably will for a couple of weeks to come.

It wasn't long ago that the lower Madison River - a quasi tailwater - was still fishing well. I took advantage of the good conditions, fishing it on a few occasions from Beartrap to Cobblestone and doing very well with dead drifted crayfish patterns. I also visited the only public spring creek in this part of the state: Darlington Spring Creek, which parallels the lower Madison and where I had some success swinging soft hackles in faster water. The lower Madison is no longer much of an option, and considering that Darlington acquires a portion of its water from the river, I'm not sure that this so called spring creek is either.

The highlight of my quest for clarity came last week. I owe it all to an assist from a fishing buddy who showed me a sweet mountain stream. This has been his top secret, go to runoff location for a few years now. I half expected him to break out a blindfold for me to wear on the drive to the trailhead, but he spared me. What keeps this place a secret is the hike in, which is lengthy. This isn't your typical, high gradient, claustrophobic, mountain stream consisting of small trout. Rather it's an interesting blend of a spring creek and a freestone meadow stream that harbors some sizeable cutts and brookies.

The quest continued this weekend when I decided to explore some new water north of Bozeman. This creek drains some relatively low elevation country, giving me hope that it would be fishable. The Sunday drive along the base of the Bridgers was beautiful and I got a look at the old, abandoned railway stop of Maudlow, but the creek was blown out. I didn't even wet a line.

At this rate I'm going to have to start playing tennis. Or maybe I need to suck it up and learn to enjoy lake fishing, I hear that the view from Rat Lake is nice...

A little shameless self promotion...

The new issue of Montana Sporting Journal is hot off the presses.

This issue has some great fly fishing content with articles about Montana's bull trout, Yellowstone National Park, floating the Middle Fork of the Flathead, the Bitterroot River skwala hatch, a small stream photo essay and lots more. I even make an appearance with an article about a successful exploratory fly fishing trip to a remote river in MT.

If you'd like to check it out, call 800-559-4351 or email me and I'll get you hooked up with a free trial issue.

The JJ is Special

An angler's confidence in a fly is an interesting thing. Call me crazy, but it almost seems as if those positive vibes are transferred down the line and to the fly, giving it an effectiveness that it doesn't posses at the hands of a pessimistic angler.

I've had some favorites over the years, flies that inspired great confidence on the water. Back in the day it was a brown bugger. Then it was the stimulator. This winter it was a partridge and pink soft hackle. I've got a lot of love for the Chernobyl family come summer. But at the present time, the JJ Special is a fly that I have a great deal of confidence in.

The fly represents nothing exactly, but many things loosely. I believe it's a very effective crayfish imitation. I'm sure it's taken as a stonefly nymph at times. It certainly has some baitfish qualities to it. It's an easy tie and the standard recipe turns out a tasty product, but when tied in various colors and sizes the fly can represent certain trout (and bass) delicacies even more effectively. A black, or black/yellow JJ is a solid variation, as is an olive JJ. In its various incarnations, the JJ has now overtaken half of my bugger barn.

The fly is absolutely deadly on the drift, on the swing or stripped. Most of my confidence in this fly comes from dead drifting it in tandem with a smaller nymph. But then many a good fish has fallen for the JJ at the tail end of a drift when it swings and rises in the current, its rubber legs and marabou undulating invitingly. And there have been many memorable days spent pounding river banks with a JJ, stripping it feverishly through the lies of big, streamer eating browns.

I've caught rainbows, cutts, browns and smallmouth on a JJ. It has hooked me up in some dire looking situations, where visibility was under a foot. In gin clear water the fly can be a bit gaudy, but still plenty effective. It may be at its best somewhere in between these conditions, when the water has a touch of green to it and visibility is in the 3- to 4-foot range. It's generally at home in big water, but I've had success with it on smaller streams, particularly if browns are part of the equation.

I'm gushing a bit, I know, but the JJ really has been good to me. Case in point: over the past two days I caught about a dozen fish with it on the Madison River below Beartrap Canyon, including both my largest brown and rainbow to date on this stretch of river.

For whatever reason this fly has instilled a little extra confidence to my fishing, and there's something to be said for that.

A Reacquaintance

I went back. Back to where it all began. A drift down memory lane.

Last week I hopped on a big old jet airliner, leaving behind a wintery Montana for a sun drenched Arizona. It was good to go home, to see family and friends, to just be in Flagstaff, and to wet a line at some familiar haunts.

As I eased my Teva clad feet into the water of Oak Creek, and later Wet Beaver Creek, I felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu. At the same time I felt distinctly out of place. I haven't been fishing small streams nearly enough since I moved to Montana, and it showed. For the past three years I've been focused on learning how to fish the big water of rivers such as the Yellowstone, Madison and Missouri, a task that was quite overwhelming initially. Now the tables had turned and I seemed to have lost my old knack for catching trout on small streams.

The intimate pocket water of these Arizona streams had my drifts feeling like awkward, discombobulated, thingamabobbered, obtrusive affairs. I was sloppily spooking fish left and right in the low, clear water. The combination of my 9' rod and even longer leader were rather ridiculous...it's tough to load a 5 weight with only a few inches of line extending beyond the rod tip!

I was humbled. I thought I'd learned so much in Montana over the past few years. I thought that I was going to bring those new found skills back to AZ with resounding success. That wasn't the case, I quickly found that I couldn't impose my new tricks upon these streams. Eventually I settled back into old rhythms, shortened my leader, employed a dry-dropper setup, reduced my false casting, and kept to the shadows as I worked upstream. It felt good to be back in tune with things.

I returned to Montana a couple of days ago, just in time for the opening day of fishing season (many small streams and larger rivers such as the upper Madison are closed until the third Saturday in May). Despite the fact that yesterday may very well have been the last day of fishable conditions on our big freestones until after runoff, I found myself on a couple of small streams in the Gallatin Canyon. I loved every minute of it.

I've been reacquainted with the magic of small stream fly fishing and I'm looking forward to maintaining that connection.

Back from the Smith

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Right? After a challenging Smith River trip, I'd like to believe that is the case. After a few days of indecisiveness leading up to the launch date, due to river conditions and a member of our party canceling, we decided to go ahead and float the Smith River anyway. I really had my heart set on spending my 30th birthday on the Smith and with a forecast calling for cool temperatures, we were hopeful that the river would be dropping and clearing throughout our trip.

On the morning of Tuesday, the 27th, we launched our canoe at Camp Baker with beautiful weather and pretty good river conditions (2' of visibility). Most folks do the Smith over 4 nights and 5 days, we opted to extend the trip by a night and a day to ensure that we'd have ample time to fish over the course of this 59 mile float.

The first day and a half of the trip went off without a hitch and we stopped frequently to wade fish the more productive looking water. The first flies out of my box were a JJ Special and a San Juan...I never had to deviate from that tandem setup. The fish were all over both flies on the drift, and a few took the JJ on the swing. Lots of heavy browns up to 17" and quite a few solid rainbows came to hand those first couple of days on the water. Best of all, the 70-80% chance of rain on Tuesday night and Wednesday didn't materialize...things were going great!

But then things took a turn for the worse late on Wednesday. Long story short, we dumped the canoe in a pushy cliffside sweeper that we approached much too casually. That debacle cost us dearly, we lost a paddle, a rod, an axe and 3/4s of our beer! Fortunately we were less than a mile from our boat camp and the clouds never opened up that night, giving us a chance to quickly build a warming fire and dry ourselves out. Hypothermia avoided, we settled into our respective tents for the night, looking forward to more fishing and paddling in the morning.

It wasn't to be, at dawn on Thursday morning I awoke to the sound of quiet, but persistent spattering on my tent walls...a light drizzle I assumed. As I peered out of the vestibule I was surprised to find a wintry scene with snow falling hard and accumulating quickly; this hadn't been in the forecast! By the time I'd finished my first cup of coffee the storm had intensified greatly, with heavy snow blowing in sideways on a fierce, sustained wind. This wasn't a day to be on the river in a canoe. We got a hot fire going and fed it steadily as the snow piled up in the canyon. We hunkered down and waited out the storm, spending three nights and two full days at the Canyon Depth boat camp as more than 2' of snow fell over a 36 hour period.

We had company in camp on Thursday evening when a lone, cold and weary rafter pulled ashore after battling the storm all day. He was happy to warm himself around our fire and share the dry firewood and beer he had on his boat. The rest of his party was still a half mile upriver and never made it into camp that night, they pulled over and set up a makeshift camp after several failed attempts to pull through a big eddy with a nasty crosswind - they finally made it into camp Friday morning during a lull in the wind. We all waited out the storm together that day, sharing stories and pulls of whiskey around the fire. The guys we shared camp with have floated the Smith for some 30 years, often finding themselves on the river in April - they said that this was by far the worst storm they'd experienced on the Smith.

The storm broke late on Friday and we covered the final 40 miles or so of river in short order, putting in a 30 mile day on Saturday and a 10 miler on Sunday. We were pushing to get off the river and didn't fish much over the final two days and when we did it was unproductive. The trip was challenging and offered up the worst weather conditions I've ever experienced on an extended, self-supported backcountry trip of any nature. But we survived it, learned a few things along the way and gained some valuable experience. I like to think I'm stronger for it.

Talk of the Weather

There has been a lot of talk of the weather between me and my fishing buddies lately. It may not be the deepest topic of conversation, but it's weighing heavily on our minds as we approach the launch date for a 6 day Smith River trip. We knew that a launch of 4/27 was risky business, potentially inviting runoff into the equation. And sure enough, unseasonably warm weather over the past few days has blown out the rivers with snow melt. Of course it's not all bad, the warm weather also has mini-skirts out in full force around Bozeman. The Smith went from 200 cfs a week ago, to over 800 cfs yesterday. Fortunately there's a glimmer of hope in the forecast...the next few days bring cooler weather and with it, hope that the river will drop and clear. Plan B is a multi-day float on a remote tailwater river in MT, but I'm hoping it won't come to that. Wish us luck.

I haven't been out fishing much this week, deadlines for Montana Sporting Journal and Trout Magazine conspired against me. My most recent outing was on the upper Madison, where we spent an afternoon floating from Varney to Burnt Tree. The fishing wasn't spectacular from a numbers standpoint, but we caught some good size fish. With the exception of a whitefish or two, every fish we caught was a rainbow. I like to think that they were all resident fish, but some of them may very well have been interlopers, up from Ennis Lake. Most of the fish took golden stone nymphs, but a couple fell for a trailing pheasant tail or shop vac. This reach of river has some great looking water, including some very inviting side channels. We spent more time than we should have on the upper couple of miles, stopping to wade at nearly every good looking location, of which there were many. My buddy had a hot date back in town that night, so we had to cover the last few miles in a hurry. About mid-way through the float I eased up on the oars, gazed at the Madison Range, felt the warm sun on my face and realized that it just doesn't get much better than this.

Home Water

Whether it's a golf course pond, or a blue ribbon trout stream, we all have local water that satiates our thirst for a quick fix. There's something special about getting to know a body of water intimately, learning her many moods and what makes her tick.

When I lived in Flagstaff, Arizona my home water was Oak Creek, and after moving to the Grand Canyon I frequented Bright Angel Creek. I spent countless hours with these beautiful trout streams, falling in love in the process.

Now that I'm living in Bozeman, Montana my home water is the Gallatin River. She's the girl next door, an easily overlooked and underrated trout fishery just west of town. She tends to be overshadowed by her more glamorous neighbors: the Madison to the west and the Yellowstone to the east. I've fallen hard for her, she's a beautiful, complex freestone river that has everything a guy could ask for. I want to explore every inch of her, from head to toe. The curves of her lower valley call to me, but it's difficult to overlook her tight, canyon mid-section and of course there's no denying the surprises that her upper meadow reaches hold.

I've decided to make a commitment to the Gallatin this summer, she's certainly deserving. Yes, she's convenient, but more importantly I enjoy spending time with her. She understands that our relationship isn't exclusive, yet doesn't hold it against me.

Right now we're still in the honeymoon phase, things are new and exciting, but I have no reason to believe that it won't continue like this forever. With the longer days I've been getting out on the Gallatin 2-3 times a week after work, as well as on weekends. Recent outings have regularly produced a score of fish per rod (of course many are whitefish), including some nice browns in the 14- to 17- inch range and numerous rainbows. The fish are taking dead drifted stonefly nymphs, pheasant tails, shop vacs and soft hackles with reckless abandon. Baetis are beginning to pop and some small stoneflies (nemoura?) are inviting a bit of surface action on the lower river - rumor has it there is even a bit of skwala stonefly activity on the lower river as well. Streamers are taking trout and will weed out the whitefish, but expect to lose some flies to underwater structure.

I'm not usually one to kiss and tell, but then the Gallatin is no secret. I've had to share her with others - bait fisherman even - that's just the way it is and I've come to terms with it. Of course I like to think that she doesn't divulge her deepest secrets to just anyone...

Where's your home water?

Sell Out

When my friend Josh casually mentioned that AZ's Black River was profiled in the current issue (Apr/May) of Fly Fisherman magazine I was really, really hoping he was kidding. Josh resides in Montana and has never fished the Black, but he's heard me talk about it a time or three. He thought I might be interested in seeing the article. I went down to the local newsstand and picked up a copy...sure enough the cover was emblazoned with the words, "Black River". The magazine devoted 6 pages to this - until now - relatively unknown fishery in AZ's White Mountains. A fellow by the name of Cameron Chambers from Helena, MT wrote the piece.

It's a well written and accurate article...too accurate. Mr. Chambers didn't hold back in his telling of the river's greatness. Throughout the piece he really talks up the river's brown trout fishery and with this line he broke my heart: "as the river transitions between warm and coldwater fisheries, it has the effect of steroids on the brown trout". That wasn't really necessary. By the time I'd finished reading the article I was left with a feeling akin to finding out that your girl is seeing someone else.

The Black River is a rather non-technical fishery, getting to it is really the most difficult aspect of fishing it. Its remoteness may be its saving grace, but Mr. Chambers has just issued a Black River invitation to about 100,000 anglers. Even if only 1% of Fly Fisherman readers have an interest in checking the place out, that is still a lot of people for this river to absorb over the course of a couple of seasons (I believe that the attention a fishery receives from such an article is significant over 1-3 years, but negligible long term). This isn't a large river, flowing at perhaps 100-200 cfs most of the season and with only a few major access points...it could feel crowded in a hurry.

It may seem hypocritical of me to be bothered by this article, considering that I have an AZ fly fishing guidebook in print. My book details the Black River, there's no denying that, but I anguished over its inclusion in the book and I was careful not to over-hype it. Regardless, if all 14 people who have bought AND read my book were to suddenly descend upon the Black River on the same summer weekend, it would have little impact.

I've long feared that someone would eventually sell out and write up the Black River for SW Fly Fishing. Mr. Chambers, you've taken it to another level...I hope they paid you well, sir.

Skwala!

As a kid I enjoyed finding bugs and chucking them onto the surface of our backyard pond. Watching the pond's koi slowly rise and slurp a big moth, grasshopper or ant never ceased to amaze me. Not much has changed now that I've grown up, there's something satisfying about watching fish rise to dry flies, particularly large dry flies. In Montana we're pretty fortunate that we don't have to wait until the June salmonfly extravaganza to fish big dries. March brings another member of the stonefly family to the surface...the skwala.

Over the past two weeks I've been hearing reports of fair to good skwala action on the Bitterroot River near Missoula. Most of the reports indicated there is a small, but widening, window of surface activity every afternoon.

I was itching to get over there and as luck would have it, Scott Anderson - a Missoula area guide - invited us over to fish with him. We hit the river on Sunday morning with beautiful, sunny weather and some serious optimism. The Bitterroot skwala hatch attracts a bit of a crowd, anglers from across the nation flock to the river in March and April to fish this early stonefly hatch. For that reason we fished high on the river, above everyone else. With the exception of one raft launching behind us, we never saw another boat all day!

The fishing started off a little slow in the morning, we stubbornly fished dry flies through a futile hour or so. Eventually we conceded and quickly found success after switching over to nymphs. Karen boated the first fish of the day, a beautiful westslope cutthroat. The action gradually increased as the day warmed, and we continued to pick up quite a few fish on nymphs through the lunch hour. Sometime between 1pm and 2pm things changed in a hurry, bugs were out on the water and the fish were looking up. For the rest of the day we fished nothing but big skwala and nemoura stonefly dries, getting takes in nearly every stretch of good winter holding water. Even as the weather turned nasty late in the day we were catching fish on top. At one point Karen and I were doubled up with nice cutts. Most of the fishing was blind, but we did have a few opportunities to cast to heads. Scott took big fish honors of the day with an 18" cutt, but between the three of us we caught several chunky cutts in the 15-16" range.

Scott's knowledge of the river was impressive. I'm a decent stick and Karen definitely has some skills, but without our guide's knowledge of the water our day wouldn't have been nearly as successful. Scott guides for Five Valleys Flyfishing (outfitter lic. # 12094), give them a shout if you're looking for a guide in the Missoula region.

Sometimes It All Comes Together

Some people seem to have luck on their side when it comes to fishing. My friend Matt is one such person. Now that's not to say that he isn't a skilled angler, for he is, but he just seems to have a little extra river karma going for him. He's caught some very nice fish in my presence over the past year, none more so than the rainbow he landed on the Missouri River last week.

Unfortunately we didn't have a tape measure along, but there is no doubt that it was somewhere in the 23-25" range. As impressive as its length was, the girth of this fish is what really set it apart, it was massive!

I've really enjoyed fishing this stretch of the Missouri over the past month or so, but the fishing pressure is starting to pick up with the nice weather and influx of spawning rainbows. There are quite a few gear fisherman targeting fish on redds, not exactly my style, but it comes with the territory I suppose.

In other news, I fished Big Spring Creek on Thursday afternoon following a morning business meeting in Lewistown. While the creek looked great to me, the locals were complaining about it being off color from low elevation snow melt. There was 3-4' of visibility, which turned out to be plenty. I fished above town and caught good numbers of rainbows, and an occasional brown, up to 14". Most fish were taken on a shop vac/pheasant tail variation, but a couple fell for a small partridge and pink soft hackle. I also saw my first blue winged olives of the year...there weren't many and the trout weren't really looking for them, but it was great to see - spring is definitely in the air.

The weekend found me in Kalispell for the Great Rockies Show and although I brought my fishing gear, it wasn't until the drive home on Sunday afternoon that I had a chance to fish. The young lady that accompanied me - and who was essentially my guide for the afternoon - put me onto some great looking water along the upper Blackfoot. Karen was even gracious enough to leave her rod behind so that I could fish more, what more could a guy ask for? But it was to no avail, the water was cold and the fish were a bit lethargic. I did have one take in the last run we fished, but I must have been distracted...my hook set was poor and the trout slipped off. Even so, I can't remember a better couple of hours spent on the water in quite a while. It all came together on this day with beautiful weather and great company on the river.