Montana Speed Run, Part Deux

As early fall faded to late fall and the days became noticeably shorter, Shaun and I each harbored a longing for one last Montana trip before the dark dark and the rains settled in until spring (I thought of them as rains then, but now, as we suffer through atmospheric river after atmospheric river with four PM sunsets, dark dark and rain seem wholly inadequate to capture the depth of this misery).  

This year, Veterans Day fell on a Tuesday, and Shaun also had Monday off from work.  When he told me that, each of us knew what the other was thinking.  I set about scheming and blocking off my schedule as we made plans to leave mid afternoon Friday, driving to Missoula, fishing a half day on the Madison Saturday en route to Livingston, spending two days on the spring creek, and driving home on Monday.  I drove Shaun to work early Friday morning with plans to pick him up in his already packed truck after I finished my morning seeing patients.  I was out the door by 1:15, and we were on the road from Tacoma by 2:00.  We avoided traffic and adverse weather, stopping to let the dog out a couple of times and pulling into Missoula just before 11:00 (10:00 our time).  Quick to bed, we left around 6:30 the next morning and made it to the Madison around lunchtime.  It was cold but sunny with the typical windy conditions this time of year.  Fishing was a bit subpar.  I did land a decent rainbow on a streamer, but otherwise we had some smaller fish and some bigger fish we lost, but no matter.  This was a bonus day.  We took the scenic route through Big Sky before stopping at Albertson's in Livingston to pick up groceries for a couple of days.  

We woke around 6:00 the next morning and took our time making breakfast, intent to be at the creek by 8:30.  We were treated to a picturesque sunrise over the Absaroka range.  Once checked in, we got our gear on and made the 20 minute walk to our favorite spot.  We didn't see any surface activity, not that we expected to at this hour.  We fished through a couple of times with nymphs to no avail.  Eventually, we started seeing sporadic rises around 10:30, and they grew slightly more steady around 11:00 as the temperature warmed and more bugs began to hatch.  I was fishing a size 20 BWO to the opposite bank, aiming for an area where the bank cut slightly inward, creating a small depression.  There was a fish rising consistently there, but it was a tough cast and an even tougher drift.  I waded more toward the middle of the creek, willing to sacrifice any fish that may have been holding in the moss for a better casting angle to the fish I could see.  Being left handed was, for once, advantageous in this spot.  I put what I thought was my best cast in there, but the timing was just a little off as the fish had risen just as I was in my backcast.  I resent, waited a few more seconds, and put what turned out to be my best cast in there.  As soon as the fly hit the water, the fish gulped it down.  Setting the hook, I did my best to keep tension and pressure on the fish to avoid losing it in the copious moss lining the creek.  It ran straight at me, then upstream, then downstream.  Eventually, we were able to net it and were shocked to see one of the most vibrant Yellowstone cutthroat either of us had ever seen.  Typically by this time of year, most of the Yellowstone cutthroat have moved into the main river, the Yellowstone, but this one had remained in the creek.  It was a beautiful fish and a glorious take.  I was content for the day, maybe for the trip, honestly.  That's how pretty this fish was.  

I hopped out of the stream, and Shaun hopped in, working downstream to water we had not yet fished.  There were fish rising everywhere.  Constantly.  You always think that's what you want- fish everywhere, rising repeatedly, but sometimes, it's even worse than no fish rising at all.  There are so many bugs on the water, the odds of the fish picking your fly seem more minuscule than ordinary.  It's harder to develop the right timing and rhythm, and that's without even considering how difficult it is to tell if the fish is taking your fly because the lighting is so bad, and the flies are so small.  Try as he might, Shaun just couldn't get one.  He had a couple of hits but no makes.  Understandably, he was pretty frustrated.  We broke for lunch and fished a couple of other spots without success.  Our last spot had plenty of fish rising but not great casting conditions, surrounded by cattails and other brush.  I managed to catch an average size brown trout, but we saw a troutzilla rising that neither of us could fool.  Darkness was descending, so we made our way back to the house where we were treated to a more subtle sunset but beautiful nonetheless.  I just knew the next day would be Shaun's day.  

As we are apt to do, we did a quick check of the weather, only to find forecasted winds for 25+ mph with gusts up to 55 mph- hardly ideal for light tippet and delicate presentations.  We decided we would likely bail on the spring creek and instead head to the Madison for the mid-afternoon as it's quite a bit easier to deal with windy conditions there, but we would check again in the morning, just in case, as the forecast can change quickly, and we've been in situations on more than one occasion where the forecast is just a miss.  

The next morning, as we made breakfast and prepared to pack up, the wind was absolutely howling.  It seemed unlikely we would be fishing the creek, but we decided to drive down on our way out just to check it out as it is down in a bit of a valley, maybe it was protected from the wind, we hoped.  We got to the creek around 8:30 after driving 15 minutes through winds that blew the truck side to side.  As we pulled down toward one of the huts, we both noticed there was absolutely no wind.  Bewildered, we got out of the truck just to make sure.  We stood there, waiting for a huge gust to come along... any minute now, but it never came.  As the minutes ticked by, we figured we were wasting valuable wind-free time, so we threw our waders on and marched to our spot.  We decided we'd fish as long as the conditions allowed, and if there was time, we'd head to the Madison to finish out the day.  

We weren't seeing much at all in the way of hatches and saw zero fish rising.  It was slow going, so we decided to walk a bit and explore some water we hadn't fished in a few years.  Where fast meets slow is a sound principle to keep in mind when fishing just about any body of water.  I tossed a nymph into such water, albeit shallow, and had a decent brown come up and snatch it.  Got it just about to the net, and it wriggled off, which didn't really matter.  It was just cool to catch one in a spot I wasn't too sure about.  We moved back upstream, casting into some of the same areas where we saw fish the day prior, but we had no luck, and as we got closer to noon, the winds finally showed themselves.  At that point, we got into the car and headed for the Madison. 

We had a couple of hours to fish before it would be dark, and while it was windy, it was fairly temperate given the time of day and time of year.  The fishing there proved to be tough as well.  I really had no action and turned my attention to playing fetch on the bank with Birch and sipping hot chocolate from my thermos.  Shaun hooked into a big rainbow and followed it downstream quite a ways before it got into a fast current and freed itself.  All in all, this was probably our least productive trip ever to the Madison/Spring Creek, but it still wasn't a wasted trip.  We enjoyed time together and had one last great sunset before heading to Missoula for the night and an uneventful trip home the next day.