Like a kid

Maturing in your late 20s while discovering fly fishing in Montana makes for some incredible days and better memories. Every hatch is new, exploring desolate fisheries, so many high fives, grip-and-grins, views, reminiscences ... But over time, the excitement can actually start to wane. Careers take precedent, kids need nurturing, and life "happens." The roaring inferno dwindles to a glowing ember. 

But this past Monday, a friend helped me rekindle the flame. 

On the outskirts of Yellowstone National Park, we found challenging but good fishing for rainbows, cutthroat, brown trout and whitefish up to about 17 inches (except for the alleged 21-inch cuttbow Brady claimed to land). As we were leaving, we circled back to the holes where we'd started while dark clouds expanded over us.

"That's a green drake," I said. We weren't expecting to see green drakes, but as Brady was telling me earlier, it can be bay-nay-nays when green drakes are out. But they're generally a late-June/early July thing, and this was August

"Ooh, that's another, and there's another!" he said. 

Fish exploded around us like cannonballs from afar. Like a hailstorm. I was well into my next knot before I realized that I hadn't been this excited on the river in years. The fish were not so dumb that they'd eat anything, but after 20 minutes when the hatch ceased, we had landed three beautiful trout, including a marvelous down-river-chased 18-inch cuttbow.  

Within minutes, as the overhead lightning blew up and the rain down poured down, we slogged back to the truck. Then toasted, and smiled all the way home.

Then on Friday, another friend and I went to investigate a rumor that access was allowed at a private-land gate, that would let us on a section of river that is basically off limits. But it was well-posted, and while you could esoterically argue that the placement of the posts implied access is actually allowed here, we decided that it wasn't worth it. We traipsed back to the public access and fished upstream for a couple hours, finding a handful of hopper-eaters. But my heart was pounding like it was 2010 thinking about the opportunity to get on that upper stretch. 

I'm so grateful to feel that joy of fly fishing in Montana like I hadn't in years. The forced free time afforded by COVID has presented an opportunity to relight a fire and feel like a kid again. At least for a few minutes among these anxious days. 

Say what you will about 2020. Some days, it's pretty fun. 

Jammin' on the Gallatin

Winter fishers are familiar with ice jams. They can restrict flow, wedge a section of river with huge ice chunks and create 10-foot-plus-tall banks when the ice thaws. It can also cause dangerous floods, as shown in the video below. A fisherman had to be saved by Search and Rescue last month when one broke upstream of him.

Furthermore, friend and fellow-blogger Will Jordan reported that when he fished the Gallatin Canyon last weekend he saw floating fish in many holes. An inquiry with FWP revealed it was apparently the result of the flood (although other reports said the fishing was EXTREMELY good for the next few days). Here's hoping the kill wasn't too great an event.

There are times when anglers make poor decisions and get themselves in hairy situations, but something like this is hard to predict. My best advice would be to stay off islands and close to the banks if you know you're fishing below an ice jam. And get your line in the water ASAP afterward.

Indecision Montana

“Killed on salmon dries lyons to pal yesterday,” said the text message that beeped at 11:49 on Wednesday morning, kicking off another round of agonizing decisions about where to fish this weekend. Make no mistake - this is serious soul searching. Anglers must look deep within themselves to sort out simple desires from absolute biological necessities.You could leave wondering if it might've been better elsewhere, and that can haunt you (for a week or so). Join me on last week's decisions...

One buddy wanted to float the Jefferson, but instead decided to scout a potential gem around Missoula. It's his boat, so the Jeff is out, and would be tough anyhow (not that that's ever stopped anyone before).

Raynolds and $3 on the upper Madison are out as I don't like to fish the same place consecutively even though I received glowing reports from buddies: Ben at the Chronicle; Will with Montana Sporting Journal.

The Gallatin is coming back into shape, but still not great. And tough wading.

The Missouri is always an option, but will be busy, and apparently hasn't been great lately.

The Big Hole is there, but is still pretty huge, so it's tough without a boat.

The Blackfoot sounds good to me – back in shape, big, green, fishing well. Salmonflies are late here as everywhere else, so there's definitely a shot.

The full spectrum of drakes are on the Bitterroot.

The Yellowstone is still blown out - that helps.

A certain Smith River tributary was mentioned, as was a certain Big Hole trib, a certain Blackfoot trib, and few certain other tributaries. But all require a long drive and a hike - not sure that'll work this weekend.

And I still haven't set foot in the park yet this year.

Woe is me. How does one winnow out the best from the rest? Fly fishing isn't supposed to impose these burdens.

I ended up at a couple townie streams on Friday, the Beaverhead on Saturday, and the East Gallatin on Sunday. I didn't shower all weekend so I smell like whitefish turd (but I saved on sunscreen).

Too many people in your neighborhood, in your neighborhood...

There are now only 10 weeks left of summer and thousands of miles of water to be fished. So it begins again...

It must be September cuz I'm seeing October caddis

I think I saw my first October caddis of the year the other day. This is good news.
Fishing October caddis dries is kinda like fishing hoppers in that you have big fish eating big flies. More subtlety is required, but it offers similar-sized fish on dries.
Not every river gets a great hatch, but an outstanding emergence isn't required. If you see a couple big orange caddis, tie on an orange Stimulator with stout tippet.
I've mostly fished the hatch on the lower Gallatin, but was told by 20-something fly-shop guy that the Gallatin doesn't actually get October caddis (dicosmoecus). Ok, fella. He said that the Gally (as I'm sure he called it) actually got a bug that looked a lot like an October caddis, but wasn't a real October caddis. It does get that bug (see below), but it also gets the real thing.

And the fact is that for all intents and purposes, they're the same bug. One has lighter wings and is a tad smaller (size 8 to 10), and the real thing has dark wings with a distinct vein pattern (see below), and is size 6 to 8. Note the zig-zag vein going vertically about 2/3 down its side - that's a good way to tell if you've got an actual dicosmoecus.

They hatch in September (I've probably seen more in September than October), just like March browns that hatch in April.

 (cased dicosmoecus larva)

You can fish the pupae as well - just a big orange soft hackle should suffice.
If you see the big orange caddis, tie on a Stimmie and hold on tight.

Prospecting for skwalas

Clay and I hit the lower Gallatin River this afternoon near my old stomping grounds - my old neighbor Jake let us come out. It was good - between the two of us we got 18 fish in about 4.5 hours. The were eating the skwala nymph, the baetis nymph, and the pheasant tail. Oh, and the skwala dry. We saw one shuck and based on appetite for the nymph (and the fact that a fish rose for my indicator and for a baetis nymph dangled carelessly just under the surface), I decided to see if they were looking up. They were- I landed two fish and missed about 6 others on the skwala dry.