Last Night

I fished a small stream last night. Before I went there, I stopped by The River’s Edge. I used to work here, and it was great to go in and see Dan and Steve, and catch up a little bit. We talked more of families and kids than fishing; they don’t care about fishing tales, and I have nothing to prove to them. So we talk about what is important. They gave me a free hat and sold me a River’s Edge RE sticker for $18.95, (inside joke) and a few #18 Parachute Adams.

When Duke and I arrived at the river, the winds from an incoming thunderstorm started ripping up the parking lot dust and shaking the old Buick. While Duke whined in anticipation, I transferred the bugs I bought into my fly box, and with the wind whistling through the opened back windows and the first few drops of rain falling, we began walking through the tall wet grass.

I have made it a goal to get struck by lightning and survive, and my second attempt was last night; however, all the strikes were off in the mountains, and I just got wet. I think I need a little excitement in my life, and something worth writing about.

One of the conditions I despise the most is walking in damp sandals, and on my way to the river, that’s what they were. I don’t mind them immersed in water; it is just the slightly wet part I don’t like. But when we arrived streamside, I didn’t recognize where I was. The water was higher than I expected, or, I realized, the channel was deeper and narrower. I crawled back into the willows and bushwhacked with my four weight Sage behind Duke the path finder. At the next bend, I stepped out, and yep, this is where I thought I was, but it sure looked different.

I am amazed with how much the rivers here in the valley can change each spring. My first job in SW Montana was working for Tim O’Hair in Paradise Valley as he illegally rebuilt the stream bank on the Yellowstone in 1997. Now even this little river can reroute itself, and seal off some fishing holes, smooth out riffles, and pile up water in new places. I looked upstream at the four foot diameter cottonwood lying across what was a shallow riffle, and upon exploring it, found tons of driftwood on the upstream side. In the driftwood were a few super tanker soda cups, a Jagermeister bottle, a baby sippy cup, a flip flop, and two dozen plastic pop and water bottles. Seems all drinking vessels return to the river, unfortunately.

After a brief pensive moment, I saw little trout rising in their splashy aggressive manner, and I tied on an Elk Hair Caddis I just bought. The current was swift downstream, with a cross river eddy that moved foamy water back at me. I cast and mended and supplied the fish excellent dead-drift presentations on a long leader. Not a fish ate it. This lasted a while, and Duke stood anxiously watching the trout rise around the pool.

On one mend, I skated the caddis, and a trout swatted at it. I cast downstream, and lifted the fly, and another swatted at it. I cast across the current into the eddy, and dragged the fly across the choppy current, and a rainbow ate it. I refined my fly setup, this time with a #16 Goddard Caddis, which worked well on the Gallatin two nights ago. Behind it I trailed a bead head caddis pupa I tied out of my cat’s fur. I call it the El Camino. The trout went crazy as I skated both in short upstream and cross stream tugs. I caught browns, another rainbow, and to my surprise and joy, a purebred cutthroat about ten inches. I couldn’t believe that a cutty was in this water, but it made me sense that wildness and nativeness again on a newly shaped river.

At 8:30, the river calmed down, and we walked downstream, sinking in new holes and stumbling over snags in the depths. I tossed the Goddard out one more time in a one foot seam, and hooked and landed a 14 inch brown in the joyless shadows of a million dollar mansion 100 yards away. I poked a walking stick into the riffles and crossed to safety, and Duke swam hard with his webbed paws. He leapt and danced in front of me on the trail back to the car, and a photographer shot Yellow-headed Black Bird families in the reeds and weeds.