The Northern California Fly Fishing Board

Part 1


You have to love hard times. As high bidder (make that the only bidder) on  a lodge in MT, we quickly built a trip around the winning bid. This was suppose to be a big hopper year, but the late rains and cooler weather had us opt for plan B. The anticipation of hoppers had me tying a variety of patterns. So much for tying for the hatch. Anybody want some hoppers? I won’t be using them anytime soon. Stayed at and fished with Tom Smith in Dillon during rodeo days. Tom claimed the Dillon rodeo was the largest in the state. People spilled over and into the street at the bars located in the center of the otherwise quiet town. The night lights from the carnival even lit up the evening sky. Montana's brand new portable DUI processing trailer was on loan and in plain sight as a deterrent and a definite revenue generator for the town. The Patagucci Outlet Labor Day weekend sale had way too many folks shopping for my taste, much less my size. Lets focus on the fishing. The Big Hole proved productive up in the mountains. Dries, stonefly and PMD nymphs below to feeding pods of fish. My fish Identification is poor at best. White fish became grayling- doesn't grayling sound better when you actually hook up on a white fish? Afternoon thunder storms chased us down the canyon and only made casting difficult with the wind. The fish were cooperative, especially the browns. Hit the Beaverhead from Pipe Organ to the diversion in order to miss the crowds below the dam and skated adult craneflies off weed beds for some excitement. We even passed a spin fisherman along the bank and he was definitely happy with his report of "lots of fish on panther martins." I didn't even look for that pattern in my fly box, came close to asking the gude. We dropped by  Winston and Sweetgrass shops for the sake of my compadres. Jerry Kustich was in his usual spirits as two of my buddies started talking bamboo rods. Jerry got philosophical and went into sales pitch mode when asked about the care bamboo rods required. Jerry even hinted that he just threw his rods in the bed of his pickup. Of course, it helps if you can repair your own rods. One of them might have got on Jerry's waiting list.

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Departing from Dillon, the Labor Day traffic on I15 or even the old highway did not exist. Even the carnival associated with the rodeo beat us out of town over night as well and was no where to be found. The run north then west of Missoula some 40 miles to stay on the Clark Fork and tease some cutthroats on stonefly nymphs and dries in the foam/scum lines of eddies. Fished the next day with outfitters from the Missoulian Anglers on the Clark Fork for cutthroat and a bull trout for good measure. The lodge was empty with the exception of the cook/caretaker. He was a drug and alcohol counselor for his church, while one of my buddies heard he was a minister. I didn’t realize that the church would drive folks to drink. Do we break out the Bobbie Mondavi cab magnums or respect the fellow's belief system. We chose the latter and it helped us get up in the morning. Fishing the lower Clark Fork was very nice. We only saw one raft drop down to the take out below the lodge for our stay. Otherwise, it was a solo beaver, herons, mergansers, eagle, osprey and family of otters that we had to contend with. The caretaker would drive down to the gravel bar below the cabin after dark to see if we were alright. Cutts to 20 plus inches both on top and below. Sad to say, we were sad to leave good fishing. The outfitter left an impression on us with his opinion of tail waters at dinner, Those tail water fisheries are kinda like going to a whore house, you don not really want to talk about it. We did not know whether to laugh or apologize to the caretaker. What the heck, I laughed inappropriately.

part 3


Made the run to Craig in order to fish the Missouri for a couple of days. Dropped by the Trout Shop and talked to a nice young gal from Wisconsin. We forgot her name, but recalled she was from Wisconsin, so we referred to her as Miss Wisconsin. Miss Wisconsin directed us to the flies she claimed were working. She claimed to fish the river, so we took her at her word. We collected our flies and keys and headed straight to our cabin. Lodging was nine miles down river from Craig in the canyon area. My cohorts dropped into the river behind the lodge and caught fish to 23" on dries and stoneflies that evening. Tricos, both as spinners and upright wings covered the glassy water and intermittent drizzle. I thought they would be there again the following evening. I could grab my camera then and get a couple of shots. As one should have guessed, they did not materialize the following evening under clear skies. While we fished below the cabin, our neighbors had just come back from a float trip only to deal with the whooping and hollering of old men standing knee deep in the river and acting like little kids. "Get the net, its a big one, bring the camera while you're at it." We were reminded of the joys of living in the city with good water. Our showers filled the air with sulphur odors from the well water. That evening we ran back into Craig to take care of our ice cream cravings, but found everything was closed. We were informed that if we continued another 8-10 miles up towards Wolf Creek there was a store connected to a gas station. So lets see, that sounds like a 40 mile round trip just for an ice cream. Might as well pick up some bananas while we are at it. The 4 lb container of potato salad at Costco in Helena looked pretty cheap at this point. So do the bananas. The proprietor, sensing an opportunity, said that he was open until 10 every night and we were welcomed back. He had certainly found his gold mine. The following day we take pontoons and kick boats up the Missouri river about 5-7 miles in hopes of getting back by dark. Riffles were productive with pods of rainbows, although on the smaller to medium size. Caddis were the ticket as we worked our way down the river. The browns would be back in the evening behind the cabin at the end of the day.

part 4


The pace of our fishing by week's end had dropped down to a relaxing pace. Mid days, earlier in the week would have me beating the water with a fly. Toward the end of the week,  an afternoon shower and shave broke up the day. The pace had finally slowed by the time we were to head back home. Our only complaint was the driving time involved. We did drop back into the Trout Shop on our departure to thank Miss Wisconsin for her spot on recommendation on the flies. I spotted a freezer compartment and fell victim to the suggestion. This will probably be my last time I opt for ice cream. The fudge bar was encrusted with a heavy layer of ice from freezer burn- ah, the perfect icing on a 19 hour drive home.


Next up is fishing for Brookies near Tuolumne Meadows/Tioga Pass this coming mid week thru the weekend- the perfect primer for  a 3 day camping trip on the Deshutes mid October for steelhead. The kid will have me out in the meadow at sunset to catch the alpen glow. I only hope that my casting arm can take the punishment and the ground is softer than I anticipate. A cot might come in handy, but is out of the question.

Report made me jealous. Sounds like a great time.

Thanks for the 1 more time effort...great report...Dillon is where I've heard more spurs jingling in eating and drinking places than any other town...
They host the college championship rodeo there a week or so after the Dillon Rodeo...worth staying around...and then for the ladies, there's Crystal Park up by Wise River (an hour from Dillon)...pay $5 to park and dig up the hillside all day for crystals...Mrs pgw always wants to stop in Dillon for a few days.

Paul

Please send unwanted hoppers this way. Hoppers are still thick around here.

Now I just need to get out

Paul

This is my favorite photo of the trip. It looks more like a impressionistic water color than a photo.