Very good friends of Have-a-go-flyfishing Ed Newey and his father Greg took a trip to Montana last year, and Ed has just sent me a report of their adventures. Greg had fished in Montana before, but this was to be Ed's first venture to the west of the United States.
Ed Writes:
We finally touched down at Missoula
airport Montana after several flight connections totaling a long 20 hours. We
were greeted in the arrivals hall by an enormous fly fishing poster and huge
examples of wild animal taxidermy, we knew immediately that outside the airport
building the wilderness awaited us - particularly Montana’s fly fishing
mecca!
The drive out east took 1 hour and
our route followed along the Blackfoot river, which took us to a ranch located
on its very banks. We arrived to one of the warmest welcomes I had ever had. The
ranch was absolutely stunning - perfectly built with a cosy fireplace, open
range kitchen, and a fridge full of beer. Ralph and Howard had pulled out all
the stops and we could not thank them enough. We knew right away we would be having
a brilliant trip. The evening flew by with several beers consumed and stories
of fishing the Blackfoot. We went to bed full of excitement and I could hardly
sleep.
We awakened excited and jet lagged
but could not get fishing just yet! (frustrating!) Instead we had to head back to town to stock
up on supplies. This would allow us to fish our socks off without having to
worry about supplies for the rest of the week. In town we came across a variety
of interesting places, of particular note a department store for cowboys. We
stocked up accordingly!
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Edit: Nice hat Ed.
We returned to the ranch for midday and our first Blackfoot experience was soon to be upon us. But first a trip to the nearby "town" of Ovando was needed. This small town with about 4 houses, 1 bar, and a fully stocked fly fishing shop, provided the opportunity for us to buy all our fishing supplies for the week.
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The “go to” fly was a purple haze -
similar looking to an Adams parachute pattern with a soft and striking purple
body.
A 10 minute drive back, the river in
constant view, we were itching to get on the water. 5 minutes drive along the
“main” road (only seeing 3 cars all week) we passed fishing access points every
200 metres or so. The state of Montana after a long campaign persuaded farmers
and landowners to open access points on their land to allow keen fly fishermen
in. This was very impressive. FINALLY we were all geared up and ready to go!
A 20 minute walk along the banks was spectacular - to our left the mighty Blackfoot with pools and glides popping up wherever you looked - where to start!??
Below the mountains and the orange sun
scorched meadows.
We would arrive at the infamous “cutthroat ally” - a deep glide of about 100 metres where the many cutthroat trout
could be seen feeding off the top and the odd monster brown (we were told)
would be lurking in the deep. We couldn't wait to get a fly on the water!
Wading out 10 metres in the shallow
we could cast the dry purple haze up stream at about 2 o’clock, letting the
slow current drift around 90 degrees. Just as it would start to sink a slow
short tug would usually end in an enormous splash and a cutthroat launching
itself on the purple haze! Average size around 1 - 2 lbs.
Ralph helping me to land my first
monster of the trip! He came running to the rescue and that enabled us to get
the picture! A BIG thank you Ralph!!!!
We could have stayed all night, but
not so easy to see in the dark let alone the bears that we were told would be
lurking around the woods on the walk back to the car!
The Montana sky was staggering.
After probably the longest day of my life - some light refreshments were much welcome and needless to say followed the best sleep I can ever remember!
The next morning and breakfast!! The
food in Montana was not short of epic, the perfect fuel for a day on the Blackfoot!
Day 2 was again on the Blackfoot and
this time it was just a 5 minute walk out the back porch and we were there. This
time much more technical fishing, the flow was much faster and takes were
harder to come by. My previous experience and training on the beautiful Swiss streams under the guidance of Jon at www.have-a-go-flyfishing.com proved invaluable! Without that previous experience my trip would have been far less successful. The fish were very skittish and within 20 metres you could see them
running off. Dam! You had to creep up and cast down to them, hiding, crouching so
as not to be seen!
Here the big rock in the distance, I picked up one of my best “cutthroat”. After a few failed casts up to the front of the rock and some very nervous moments of thinking I had spooked the fish. I finally nailed a cast and got the perfect drift back, 1 second of drift, 2 seconds of drift past the rock - 3 seconds of swirling float as the haze came back behind the rock perfectly - the adrenaline began and the swirling haze was just about to move away and suddenly BAMMMM the river exploded and I was on! Nearly falling in the river I got him in and even one wader boot full of water didn’t stop me smiling!
Day 3 and the trip to the mighty Missouri! The drive was spectacular, following the famous Lewis and Clark route tracing the Blackfoot all the way up to its origins and over the continental divide. Passing through Lincoln we were reminded of what happens when truck drivers are not fully paying attention on the local roads over the hills... this was stuffed and placed in the tourist office! Also a small kick of motivation to remember that bear spray when hiking to the fishing!
Crossing the continental divide the
landscape changed instantly. Gone were the trees, wide open plains was the
landscape as far as the eye could see. It was quite a sight.
We arrived in Wolf Creek and although I was not expecting much I was amazed at how small the place was. We arrived to see about 10 houses, 2 bars and yep you guessed it, one of the most crammed full fly fishing shops I’ve ever seen! Plus the boats parked by the side of the road.
We quickly checked into one of the
mini guest houses and drove up the road to finally see the upper Missouri in
all its glory. It was pretty intimidating!
Here we are scoping out the scene.
We began at this location because of
several natural conditions that had occurred which made the fish here become
giants! The Holter dam ensures a very consistent flow of water, combine this
with an exceptionally hot spring and summer the variety and volume of fly life that
emerged was staggering. The water remains not too deep and the fish have mountains
of fresh flies to feed on. As a result the fish become mutant size and not happy at
all when their chosen fly turns out to be a purple haze!
The fishing here was similar to cutthroat ally. There were not rocks or glides just a consistent depth of about 1
- 1.5 metres across the whole river apart from the middle where it was about 3 metres.
Toxic looking coloured lime green weed reflected in the sun - a constant danger when hooking
a monster brown which would duck into it if given half a chance.
The flow was from left to right and
we waded out about 5 metres or so and cast out 30 metres at about our 10 o’clock.
We would let the drift take the line round until about 5 o’clock - a gentle tug
and strip back slowly. Here was where the action would usually be.The takes were in short -
terrifying. We had several takes so aggressive 50 metres of line would be taken
before we could really react. Some takes were so hard the tippet would snap
immediately. After upgrading the leader strength a few times we were able to
land a few! We each landed several beautiful rainbows and browns. Average size
was about 5 - 8lbs. We were told these
were babies... goodness knows what a 15/20lb-er would do to the rod!
The evening in Wolf Creek will
forever stay in our memories. We headed to one of the 2 bars - the one in fact that looked most lively - the
glowing blue bud lights was the deciding factor. We sat at the horseshoe shaped bar enjoying our beer and food, and observed an exchange between a lost cowboy and the more than tipsy barmaid. What followed next could have been the script on any comedy show! A decision about which
pizza should to be made took the best part of 20 minutes with combinations of
toppings being forgotten and recalled several times over.
After more Missouri action we drove
back the 3 hours to the welcome sight of the Blackfoot
Day 5 brought us back to the Blackfoot.
After 2 hours on the cutthroat alley - we made the 45 minute walk along the bank
into a very isolated canyon. This brought some of the best fishing we experienced,
with wide fast flowing glides and big shapely boulders providing all kinds of
holes for the browns, cutthroats, and the infamous bull trout, the largest and
most aggressive rising fish in the river. Both the bull and cutthroats had been
listed as endangered after a major mud spill into the river from a mine at top
section of the mountain and the recovery program had been going tremendously.
Walking into the canyon.
This particular bend in the canyon
was the best spot all trip. The pool on the far side held some serious fish and
some big ones! Howard was spotting and I was casting, letting the fly glide down and waiting for the fish to take hold, it was fantastic fun!
Walking back out of the canyon the
sun had gone down and the light coming from the water was incredible.
The following day we decided (reluctantly) to take the morning off to experience the “wilderness”. We drove out north for an hour or so and after some early morning mist the sun began to shine...
We drove up, up, and up into the
mountains, the views were spectacular.
A remote mountain lake that gave up
some astonishing views..
A delightful little stream. We could see little brook trout slowly rising and the only regret I had all trip was not to have my Kurt Zumbrunn Swiss made bamboo rod with me for a quick cast.
We headed off back down
the mountain and back for our last afternoon on the Blackfoot! What an
afternoon we had! I went back to my rock to try and tease out another trout
from the deep pool behind... the water was a little higher and I had to wade a
little further out of get the cast in. Having just got into the right spot,
line organized, fly tied on (this time a hares ear as they were not taking the
dry) I was ready to strike!
Then - a soft bellow came from 300 metres
downstream. Hard to hear with the water bubbling dangerously close to the top
of my waders! I could just about make out “Camera” and “Ed!” this meant my old
man had forgotten the camera and had probably lumped into a monster.... giving
up my spot and half swimming back to the bank I ran down with the camera (I’m a
very good son) - suffice to say the beers were on him that evening!!!! - But
the fish was worth it - well done dad!
With a heavy heart we turned around
and headed home hearing the Blackfoot current slowly fade away. We reflected on
some of the best fishing we had done together and that last fish had rounded
off another fishing adventure. Thank you so much to Ralph and Howard for
making the trip possible and SO much fun.
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| Ed |
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Greg
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