The plan was solid. Drive to Montana, meet my sons, and do some fly fishing. For trout. Minor problem- none of us had fished Montana before. And I suck at trout fishing. We don’t have any trout in Florida. All our information about the river would come from the internet. That information might be suspect.
We camped at the Red Cliff campground, right on the Gallatin River. A trout stream ran right by our campsite! Awesome!
Alex rigged up and started fishing before setting up his camp. He got two hits, missed both. Maxx, Catalina (spouse of Maxx), and I set up our tents first, then went fishing. We all got O-fors. Our first afternoon on a new stream resulted in a skunking. No surprise there.
The author fishes a stretch of Montana’s Gallatin River. Photo by Catalina Kumiski.
Morning arrived cold, windy, and cloudy. We decided to try upriver, near the national park boundary. We got out of our cars, and I made an executive decision to get right back into mine. I chill easily. Forty-five degrees with wind? Not for me.
Having learned patience on Florida flats, waiting for hours for tarpon to show, I waited for my three companions to return. They came back cold and frustrated after a couple hours- no fish. Alex, who has more experience with trout than the rest of us, had opinions. “This water is too shallow and pushy,” he said. “We need to find a deep spot.”
The good thing about the Gallatin is that it runs right along the highway, with plenty of access sites. The bad thing about the Gallatin is that it runs right along the highway, with plenty of access sites. Access is pretty good, but the fish see fishermen every day, all summer long. They can be fussy about what they eat. Plus, in some spots, you might catch an eighteen-wheeler on your backcast.
As I drove back toward the canyon, Alex picked a spot. Now it was not only still cold, but raining too. Maxx and Alex went fishing. Catalina and I waited in the car.
After (what seemed like) a (long) while, the sons came back. Alex had missed a couple, and Maxx had gotten one on a sculpin streamer. A Fish! Cause for celebration! Alex gave me grief about not fishing. “To catch a fish, one must venture his bait.” He was right- I wouldn’t catch anything sitting in the car.
Alex with a rainbow trout that took a Blue Winged Olive.
After lunch I got my cold weather clothes out and put on long johns under my pants and fleece pants over them, with four layers up top under the raincoat. Serendipity struck when Alex found a pre-cut wading stick for me at the next spot. At 72, I don’t wade as strongly as I used to. This access point had two nice pools. Cat and Alex took the lower, Maxx and I the upper. The pool was long, so I set up in the middle while Maxx, still using his sculpin streamer, walked up to the head.
I tied on a black bunny leech and tossed it out there. Bang! Missed it. Tossed it back. Bang! A trout, a brown, 12 inches long or so. Not huge, but a solid skunk buster! Maxx got a rainbow at the pool’s head. Holy cow, we’re catching fish. We’re catching fish!
The streamers stopped producing after those two fish, but then the trout started rising. I was puzzled at first. I couldn’t see any bugs flying. Then I realized that the “dust” on the water’s surface was actually tiny mayflies. There were a lot of them!
My fly box contained #22 Blue Winged Olives (BWO), but I opted for a #18. It’s easier to tie on! (I use 4x reading glasses- they make a 5x tippet look like a dock line.) I figured if the fish wouldn’t take it, I’d downsize. I doped up the fly with some Gink, and started floating it over the rising fish.
A fish came up and took it almost immediately, quite satisfying. I rarely get to fish for trout, even more rarely get to float flies over them. To have one take my fly that quickly was a wonderful thing. And it was a decent fish, a rainbow trout over a foot long. I got two more about the same size and missed several more before they stopped rising, a wonderful couple of hours. Then the bite died, and we called it a day.
Maxx with the first fish of the trip, fooled by a sculpin imitation.
Alex and I returned to the river two days later. Alex was using a hopper/dropper rig, with a Copper John nymph as the trailing fly. I tried various things, but the only thing that worked for me was that #18 BWO. I raised four fish, missing them all. Alex caught a couple small ones on the nymph. There were no bugs on the water, the fish weren’t rising much, and we were working hard without much to show for it.
It was a beautiful, sunny autumn day on a beautiful, clear stream, not cold at all. While I was enjoying fishing with my son, fishing is always more entertaining when the fish participate. We decided to try the access point where I’d caught the risers a couple days earlier.
When we got there Alex again took the lower pool, I the upper. It looked dead. After drifting nymphs through the pool for a while without success, I decided to take a break, watch the river, and wait for a hatch. While breaking, I decided to turn over a rock. The bottom was covered with nymphs, mostly caddis with a brace of big, immature stoneflies.
Fish food! Nymphs under a rock in the river.
I tried tossing a stonefly nymph for a bit. Nothing. Then Alex waded his way up from down below, still tossing the hopper/dropper. I sat down again to watch. Cast, cast, cast. The hopper suddenly disappeared and Alex set.
It was a lovely brown, and he got it. I had my camera and recorded the event for posterity. We decided to end our outing on that high note, and worked our way back to my van.
Alex got this brown trout on a Copper John nymph.
Montana’s Gallatin River. Sometimes tough, sometimes easy, always beautiful. The fish are there, with some true gems. With what we learned this year, we hope to return to greater success next year!
