THE FIRST TIME

May 3, 2010

It was 1973, and my late husband Jim Birkholm (Castwell), Neil Travis, his wife Bonnie, and their young daughter Barbara and I were on the road to Montana pulling the Travis’ pop-up camper.

The previous year Neil, Bonnie and Barbara had gone to Montana and Neil’s nephew Tom Travis flew into Bozeman MT on leave from his Air Force duty in Viet Nam. Both Neil and Jim had been in Montana fishing a year before - and they caught fish, had wonderful hatches and “thought they had found fly fishing heaven.” Tom was an avid fly fisher - and loved what he found in Montana as well. The experience was to set his life’s direction as it did for the rest of us.

I was excited about the trip. I had not been out of Michigan except a couple of trips to Georgia and Florida, and some boat trips to Canada with my folks. But I was a fly fisher and I had heard about fishing in Montana from Jim and Neil and some magazine articles as well.

Driving across country was fascinating until we hit the really flat lands of Nebraska, where there is lots of corn and not much else to see. I remember sleeping a lot. We did drive it straight through (I’ve probably forgotten more than I want to admit,) but I do remember stopping in Dubois Wyoming and having to wait for the gas station to open so we could get gas. I had not seen mountains before this trip and at one point we drove through clouds. I had no idea, it was obvious it wasn’t fog, but how could we drive through a cloud? And Wyoming has red dirt. Georgia has a sort of orange-red mud which was nearly impossible to get of Army fatigues. But even the Wyoming rocks were red. Extraordinary! 

I don’t recall how long it took to drive from Michigan to Montana, but eventually we got to the KOA Campground right on the Yellowstone River, just south of Livingston Montana. We could fish right there at the campground and there was a wonderful caddis hatch.

We went into town and picked up some groceries and walked around ‘downtown’. Livingston was a small town, about 7,500 people - and it has pretty stayed the same over all these years. It may be picking up a little now, but it really has retained the small western town feel. One of the things which impressed me back then was that men spoke, “Morning mam” and tipped their hats.

Most westerners do wear a hat of some sort. The sun is pretty bright, and at the altitude of Livingston 5,400 feet, you sunburn easily. Years later when we had all moved there, friends from Michigan would come to visit - and fish of course. About the 2nd day they all had bad sunburns, including blistered lips. Try as we might, we couldn’t convince anyone to wear sun screen or hats or long sleeved shirts. If you visit the west, especially the high country take a good look at what the locals are wearing. Notice the hats, and the long sleeved shirts!

I always feel better with a tan, and yes I know all the warnings and you might remember I went through five surgeries on my face for skin cancer. But the fact is I take vitamin D because we don’t get enough sunshine here in the Pacific Northwest, I won’t have to take it in Montana.

The courtesy and just plain friendliness of Livingston people was almost shocking. Our world wasn’t quite as crazy then as it is now, but it really was remarkable. I don’t know how to explain it other than to say it felt then like someone had turned the clock back 25 years. There was a slower pace where neighbors took care of neighbors. It was and is a do-it-yourself life-style.  People do not expect to be entertained or coddled. Like the country use to be.

I’ve told the story about the first time I fished a spring creek. We all fished Armstrong Spring Creek in Paradise Valley, which at that time was leased by a group of people and companies in order to keep it open to the public. The reason being the O’Hare family which owned it had been approached by someone who wanted to lease or buy it just for themselves. When that word got out several people got together to keep it open; Dan Bailey, Scientific Anglers, Lucky Lager beer and others did that for a couple years. You made arrangements at Dan Bailey’s store, reserving however many rods you needed for a day. I think the cost was a donation, but that is lost in my memory somewhere as well. [Editor’s Note: it was $10.00 per rod/per day]

I had never seen a spring creek, although I had sort of an idea of what they were. and I had never seen a spring either. (At Armstrongs you can walk up to the spring and see it bubbling up in the pool.) We all rigged up and got in the water. But there was a problem, and it was a really big problem. I had never seen so many fish in one place ever. I just stood there, fish on all sides and rising to little sulphurs. I didn’t know where to cast. I just laughed. Eventually I got my wits about me and started casting dry flies to those rising fish, and caught more in one day than I could imagine possible. It was glorious and I loved it. 

Well before my time as a fly fisher, Dan Baileys catalog was THE place to get flies, and fishing stuff including tying materials. Orvis had a catalog too, but not with the amount and variety as Bailey’s. In the store were about a dozen ladies tying flies. They tied whatever you asked for as well. At that time you could see them through the front window, which changed in later years, and then after Dan Bailey passed away the tiers were gone as well. It really was a thrill to drive up and park in front of the famous store. We all went in, Dan was there and personally greeted everyone. On the walls were huge painted silhouettes of fish! Big trout caught in the Yellowstone River and elsewhere around Montana. The plaques had the angler’s name, the date the fish was caught and fly used to make the catch.

Not all that many years later I fished with Dan so he could see if I was capable of being a guide. You cannot just hang out your shingle as a guide; you have to work for an outfitter. It was customary for the outfitter to take a percentage of the guiding fee - and in some places the guides were required to meet their party at the fly shop. You were expected to ‘suggest’ the party purchase recommended flies. (Ones you recommended of course.) 

After the day I ‘guided’ Dan I sent in my application to the state Fish & Game, I think the fee was $25. A few days later I received a phone call from someone at Montana Fish & Game letting me know I was getting my guides license and to hold on to it, it was the first one granted to a woman. I still have it. It was an honor to be a guide at that time - I have no idea what the requirements are these days.

You hear about the ‘big sky country’ probably coming from the Montana Tourism folks, but since we came from Michigan we didn’t have a clue until we saw it. Climbing in elevation there is just more sky and less of anything else. At night it seems you can reach up and touch the stars, a marvelous feeling. One afternoon we were in camp cooking dinner and the wind picked up. The guys looked around and called Bonnie and me to see what was happening. A storm had gathered down the valley with lightening, big dark clouds and wind. While we watched it crossed the valley and went up the foothills and then it disappeared over the mountains. It didn’t get near us, but you could see the whole thing come and go away. What a neat thing. You didn’t ‘see’ storms in Michigan unless you were on the water, like on the big lakes, until you were standing in one.

Everything about Montana was bigger and better than the tourism folks had advertised. I couldn’t get enough. I had always loved the Great Lakes and being on the water, but I guess the mountains were a bigger draw for me.

We toured Yellowstone Park and fished, I remember Buffalo Ford on the upper Yellowstone River best. Very wade able with lots of Yellowstone Cutthroat trout, I was getting use to seeing and catching lots of trout. We visited the famous Fishing Bridge and while there was no fishing there, the numbers of fish were amazing.

I don’t know how long we were there; I do know that about the end of the trip we stopped at a cemetery on the Old River Road south of Livingston to pay our respects at the grave of Joe Brooks. Jim had known him and felt sad that Joe fished there but never lived there. After his death his wife moved to Livingston. Jim felt that was just backwards that a person should live there and who cares where they might be buried.

That fall Jim and I and my two daughters moved to Montana. About six months later Neil followed. His wife Bonnie was in college and only had a semester left on her librarian degree and the college over the hill in Bozeman didn’t offer that so she stayed in Michigan with their daughter until she finished up.

Be careful where you travel - you might just get so hooked you have to live there. And all these years later, I’m going home.

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