Montana 2011

My stopwatch read “40:38” as I reached the deep burgundy basalt cairn. A simple stack of twenty or so sharply angulated rocks speckled with grey, black and chartreuse lichens placed to mark a faint trail; trail number seventy seven. It seems like a good place to stop. The trail to the summit of Table Mountain stretches out to the left continuing its gradual climb, I estimate at least thirty minutes more of speed hiking to attain the 9600’ summit, but I am out of time and an ominous slate colored cloud looms over the round summit and is moving my way. Having dealt with rain and hypothermia in the past the decision is made to stop and head back, but first a deep breath of the surroundings. I add a small rock to the cairn.

I was standing in the middle of a sloping meadow of wildflowers, grasses and old bleached pines at roughly 8600’ looking down at Lava Lake in the Spanish Peaks area of the Lee Metcalf Wilderness located within the Gallatin National Forest under the big skies of Montana. The dome-like mountain to the south is composed mainly of exposed crumbling basalt near the summit, forming large scree fields void of plants. The shallow soil of the meadow supports a few Bonsai looking fir trees stunted due to the harsh winters creating short growth seasons, purple lupine and sage, blood red paintbrush, yellow fawn lilies, dwarf pink Nootka rose, and rich blue larkspur. The thin mountain air warmed by the rock fields, passes through the fir needles with a low sounding rush drawing in the scent, it then mingles in a healthy dose of sage and a sharp sweet accent from the wildflowers to create an amazing mountain aroma; several deep breaths burn in the memory. The view of Lava Lake is reminiscent of the view of Lake Tahoe from the south rim trail. The tree covered ridge on the far west side of the dark emerald lake seems close enough to touch. To the north most of Storm Castle Meadow is visible, nestled at the base of the limestone peak called Castle Rock. Our home for the week, a small family owned cabin, is clearly visible in the center of the large grassy meadow. A gentle ridge rises less than a hundred feet to the east. Around me a few scattered old fire rings and the lack of footprints on the trail indicate this trail is not often used adding to my decision to head back and catch up with my family. We spent a some time at the mountian lake prior to my run fishing and enjoying the surroundings. I estimated being away from the lake for an hour giving me forty minutes to climb and twenty minutes to descend back to the lake. I really wanted to reach the summit but my years of backcountry trail running have taught me better, so I turned around. The rest of my family had gone down from the lake back to the trailhead as I headed up. I discussed being about an hour behind them, and being in unfamiliar grizzly country with a possible wet thunder shower coming soon I felt it best to head back. I reached the lake in twenty minutes pounding carefully down the hillside. Passing several hikers I soon reached my descending family roughly one hundred meters shy of the trailhead right as the rain started to fall.

Today is a July 14, 2011 and marks our third day in beautiful Gallatin, Montana. Yesterday we walked to see the unfishable flooded Gallatin River, hiked a few miles along Swan Creek where Gabe earned $1 from Jim for jumping into a deep section formed by an old beaver dam and fished Squaw Creek; we were skunked by the way. Even so Jon had a few fish rise to the flies he presented. Jonathan has been here for a few days celebrating his “double digit” birthday with Cheryl’s Uncle Jim, Aunt Linda and Cousin Carly. The cabin along the Gallatin River has been in the Robbins family since Jim’s parents purchased the three acre plot and simple structure in 1968. The cabin has doubled in size with more modern additions, but still remains rustic and romantic. Cheryl has been here many times as a child and young adult with her family; this is my second visit and the first for the boys. The cabin sits roughly in the center of Castle Meadow, a large long grassy stretch bordered on the east side by I-151 and on the west by the Gallatin River. This is our base camp for all our adventures. As part of Jonathan’s birthday or more like an excuse to fish we floated a large section of the Madison River. The local newspaper reported the most important news of the summer for the fly fishers; the salmon fly hatch had begun. This annual event is of the utmost value and fishermen travel from the far reaches of the globe chasing this hatch. Time, water temperature, and sunlight dictate the actual timing of the hatching. The Salmon fly will start its life cycle as eggs deposited far upstream on the water surface by the female flys. The eggs settle to the rocky bottom of the river and spend the next three years in a larva/nymph stage eventually crawling onto the shore, molting into the full sized fly. Here in Montana the Salmon flys reach three to four inches long and when they all hatch together it is more like a swarm of giant locust. Here is a shot of Jon with one. They are everywhere for a few days and the fish go crazy in a mad gorging feeding frenzy. Then it’s done the mating process is complete the eggs have been deposited and the spent flys drift down stream. We were fortunate to actually be here right as the hatch occurred and it was quite a sight. We hit the river on the third and possible final day of the hatch on the upper stretches of the Madison starting at the McAtee Bridge and pulling out just above the town of Ennis. It was an eight hour day of floating and fishing, producing many fish including brown trout, white fish and rainbow trout. We had a great day fishing large salmon fly patterns both dry and nymphs. Here is one of the browns and below that a white fish Jon reeled in. Our guide was fantastic with Jon. His skills as a fisherman and guide mingled well with his fatherly abilities. He and Jon quoted recent movies and made jokes all the while learning and teaching new fishing skills. Here he is working with Jon on his casting. Jon did most of the catching of the twenty or so fish we landed. We were fortunate to avoid two different weather systems that provided thunder, lightning and heavy rains. While we fished Gabe, Linda, Carly and Cheryl spent the day in Yellowstone. Geysers, paint pots, hot springs, bison and bears were the highlights of the day.

The next day I had the opportunity to spend time fishing with Jim, cashing in my Christmas coupon for one free day of fishing in Montana. We set out late in the morning after a blueberry pancake breakfast while the rest of the group went off to visit a couple antique and thrift shops. Jim had scouted out the best waters for a one day wading trip. We settled on fishing the Gibbon River in West Yellowstone and waiting for suggestions from the Blue Ribbon Fly Shop at the west entrance for more information. The guys at the shop said the Firehole River was also producing well. We maximized our time by pulling off at a newly built access point right on the river. Wading upstream we quickly got into a few good sized rainbows and browns. The mosquitoes were just thick enough to tolerate and provided a bit of surface food for the fish. After a couple hours we headed down stream to the Firehole River. It is called the Firehole due to the many steaming springs and geysers that flow into the river, many of which are right along the banks. We walked across a grassy meadow avoiding the bison manure to the riverside. It was a slow flowing section of water filled with the evening hatch. Caddis, mosquitoes and mayflies were everywhere and the fish were feeding on the surface. We threw a yellow caddis pattern called a “Yellow Sally” that matched the surrounding caddis. I easily drew a dozen or more strikes to the surface but in frustration failed to hook a single fish while Jim put on a short clinic on how to hook brown trout. Our time at the Firehole was short as were wanted to get home before dark, and had a ways to drive. A small group of guys arrived to take our spot next to a large snag in the river and several steaming pools of water. We took a few photos, waded back across the river and crossed the meadow to the car. As we left the park I took this shot of the valley we were driving through. I had to block the sun with my hand but the steam plumes rising looked so amazing in the evening light. We skipped stopping for dinner, even so it was still dark well before we arrived home, that’s what happens when you fish in Yellowstone; time gets away from you in a flash.

The next morning we woke early, said our goodbyes and headed off for the thirteen hour drive home. On the way we stopped to fish in the St Regis river before leaving Montana, refuled and found amazing ice cream in Wallace, Idaho, played a much needed round of "Flyers Up" at a rest stop in Moses Lake. and grabbed a Subway dinner in Ellensburg.

Tony