WE'RE GONNA BANG 'EM!
Bruce had insisted we wear our fishing clothes on the plane, so we could head right from the airport to our first destination, the East Gallatin near Millesnick's ranch.[Near Bozeman, Montana] He had a good spot picked out, and we had rising fish from the second we got there. Bruce worked on a big fish for awhile, and then he and Dean went downstream, leaving the big fish to me. I put maybe 1000 casts over that fish to no avail, and when Bruce came back he had at the big fish again, and came up empty once more, and the entire time that fish just kept right on rising, and the humiliation was considerable. It was not the only humiliation that any of us were to experience on this trip though, and we caught some smaller fish and let it go. I found that a wet fly I had created awhile back for fall fishing on the Mad worked out West too, and there was some solace in that.
I should describe our group a bit and our general philosophy. Bruce and Dean are superb anglers who fish all over the world, Kelly Tower is from Oregon and comes by his angling prowess naturally, as if born with it, and I'm a good fly tier. Bruce is the guy you have in your own fishing group, the one who takes it the most seriously, the one who covers twice the ground the others do, and the one who, with rare exceptions, catches the most fish. I live in Ohio, Dean's from Maryland, Kelly's from Oregon, Bruce lives in Bozeman, and we’ve got the country covered. We like to fish dry flies, but will fish something else in a pinch. We're not interested in any fish under 18". All other fish are deemed to be "dinks".
Dean and I fished Nelson's Spring Creek the following day, and Deanna and Neil Travis stopped by to say "Hi". Deanna has been through a lot this year, you just have no idea, but she's landed on her feet. I had wanted to meet Neil for some time as I'm an avid reader of his articles. It was great seeing them both. The fishing was tough, bright day, no real hatch to speak of, few rising fish, though Dean managed to land a nice one.
I had purchased a disposable camera for the trip, with the idea of getting a picture of myself with a huge fish (20" at least). I jinxed myself from the word go. Though I was to hook four big fish on the trip, I was to go on to land exactly none.
One of the events that Bruce had scheduled for the trip was hog fishing below a dam on the Missouri. I made several tactical errors right off the bat, taking a four weight when an eight weight would have been good, forgetting my streamers that I had tied specifically for this venue, hiking down into a deep canyon not really knowing for sure if I could ever make it back up, and fishing nymphs. There may be some beginning fisherman out there who is a worse nymph fisherman than I am, and I'd like to meet him. Bruce caught a 20" rainbow, shown below, and hooked another hog that took all his line and backing and kept right on going. Big fish, for sure. You'll notice in the picture that Bruce still has the tape measure in his mouth that we used to sanction the fish. I made it back out of the canyon, and was quite proud of myself.
We took off for Henry's Fork in Idaho, and Bruce was very excited, as the weather was expected to deteriorate severely. We arrived on Monday and were greeted by glum faces at Trouthunter's Fly Shop. The weather had been a sunny 80 degrees for weeks and the Baetis fishing had been awful. We fished Wood Road 16 at Pinehaven for a couple of bright sunny days, and managed no big fish among us. I did get a "dink" of about 15 inches the first day, and had a short-lived shot at a big fish in the afternoon.
On day two at the Fork, with the wind howling, I found a regularly rising big fish, rising two feet from shore. I became excited and agitated. My hat blew off and slammed on the water, but the fish kept rising. With my hat floating downstream behind me, I threw out a couple of casts that the wind blew to Wyoming. I thought that my odds were bad, and went downstream and retrieved my hat. I came back and the big fish was still rising. One cast later I put my fly in a bush behind me. All the while the big fish rose. I pulled the line directly toward me, and my tippet snapped and formed a jumbled ball that would have taken several days to untangle. I remade my leader with two new sections of tippet, put on a new fly, and within two or three ill-fated casts into the howling wind, put the fish down permanently.
Bruce came in all excited on day three. The bad weather had come, and it was pouring rain and in the low 40s. "We're gonna bang 'em!" he proclaimed, rallying the troops. "This is perfect Baetis weather". We headed for Ashton. Kelly's picture below will give you a general idea of what we wore for the next few days, and yes, we all looked that dumb.
Ashton's always easier than Pinehaven, and we expected great fishing. Our expectations were somewhat dashed, though Dean hooked and lost a good fish. I caught an array of dinks, from real dinks to larger 15" dinks. The Baetis never really happened, and the big fish never got going.
We abandoned Ashton and went back to fish the gravel pit that afternoon, not all that far from where we fished the first couple of days. It got really cold, and started to snow. I stayed there with the idea that I could always hit the car, and was about ready to do so when I saw a big black head appear out there in the deeper water. With the wind howling again I fished to four big fish over a period of about as many hours. When the rising fish stopped it began to dawn on me that I was freezing to death, literally. I had been standing in the water waist to chest deep the whole time and hypothermia was right around the corner. In the meantime, Dean had fished the whole day with no gloves, having brought his wife's by mistake, and reached a point where he had to reel with his knuckles as his fingers no longer worked. This is the kind of relentless stamina and grit that we've come to expect from Dean. I hit the car and warmed up, thinking this was really cold. Little did we know that things were going to get worse.
The forecast for day four was low thirties, winds gusting to 30MPH, and snow. We had about had it with Henry's Fork, and took off for Yellowstone at the suggestion of one of the guys at Trouthunter's. On arrival, we got out of the car, donned waders, rigged up, put flies on, and then got back in the car. It was brutal. I couldn't imagine how I would ever fish in this. But once on the water, I was fine as long as I kept moving. The Baetis, even though the weather was perfect Baetis weather and Bruce swore we would "bang 'em big time", never materialized in any numbers.
We went back to Bozeman and warmer weather. Dean and Kelly really wanted to get back to Millesnick's, and Bruce and I wanted another shot at the big fish on the East Gallatin. Things didn't pan out well for either pair, but some "dinks" in the 14-16 inch range were had.
On the last day we fished some private water on a 10,000 acre ranch. We knew going in that it would be nymph fishing, but the fishing was really secondary on this day. Once we entered the gate to the property we found ourselves in an idyllic Western setting, replete with herds of cattle and antelope, coyotes, deer, vast flocks of wild birds including Hungarian partridge, just a gorgeous place. The fishing was down in a canyon again, but not a bad hike really. My friend Dean had caught three good fish before I had even figured out where to position my strike indicator, and I was quite sure this would be another fishless day with nymphs for me. Soon though, I spotted a little quiet section that I knew had to have a big fish in it, and it wasn't long before I was fast to another very large rainbow. The fight was going quite well for me until the hook simply pulled out. The good news was that I gained some confidence with the nymphs and went on to catch some fish. I even beached another big boy on the rocks, and was reaching for my camera when he flipped off back into the water and was gone. Everyone else did quite well, and Kelly landed a big one.
While it may seem that the fishing wasn't very good after reading all of this, everyone in the group agreed that it was the best trip ever. We had pitted ourselves against the elements and won. We had seen new and beautiful sections of the state. We saw moose, elk, antelope, and several kinds of deer, Rocky Mountain sheep, bald eagles, a golden eagle, osprey, and yes, even some fish. The camaraderie was the best. As Dean wrote in an email to all of us: It really was the best Men's Trip ever!! I think we laughed more and harder than any trip we've taken in the past. Nothing can stop the four horsemen of the Last Chance - neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor hail. We will always remember fishing in the Blizzard of '09 (in ten years it will be a blizzard in our memory).
As for me, though I feel as Dean does, alas, there's no picture of me with a 20" fish. But next year, well, just wait and see. We're gonna bang 'em! Big time!
