Trout Camp on the Missouri River

" On my return, I found the RBF Pro Staffers at camp. They had butchered the buffalo and brought in some more meat, as I had directed. Wade Rivers had caught half a dozen very fine trout and a number of both species of the white fish. These trout (caught in the Falls) are from sixteen to twenty-three inches in length, precisely resemble our mountain or speckled trout in form and the position of their fins, but the specks on these are of a deep black instead of the red or gold color of those common to the U. States. These are furnished long sharp teeth on the palate and tongue, and have generally a small dash of red on each side behind the front ventral fins. The flesh is of a pale yellowish red or, when in good order, of a rose red. "

-Meriwether Lewis at the Great Falls of the Missouri, June 12, 1805

Trout Camp - Craig, Montana

My good friend and fellow Pro Staffer, Matt (aka Agrontrutta), had suggested that we spend a few days on the Missouri River below Holter Dam to lower our over inflated egos back down a notch or two after enjoying a lovely week of wilderness fishing for westslope cutts on the South Fork of the Flathead River. Matt's nephew, Mike Kuhnert, is a guide on the river and works out of Headhunters Fly Shop in the little town of Craig which sits hard on the bank of the big river not quite half way between Holter and Cascade. Craig, Montana is perhaps the best little trout town in Montana and a little slice of fly fishing nirvana. Maybe 1/2 mile square in size it boasts at least 3 fly shops, a restaurant named Izaak's that'll knock your socks off, a small mercantile/deli, grocery store and two distinctive bars.

Missouri River Basin

Enormous fields of fertile & well irrigated grass, hay & alfalfa along the Missouri River bottoms produce prodigious crops of grasshoppers in late summer. As recommended by my guide for the day, Mark Raisler, I threw a tandem set of hoppers tight to the banks during the afternoon hours and those Missouri River browns and rainbows proceeded to hammer 'em like they hadn't eaten in days. In fact my largest brown of the trip was hooked in this manner but he did a couple of 360's around the boat before diving directly under it and then "weeded" me in relatively deep water before I had a chance to get him in close and have Mark net him.

The Old Sutton Place

Back Row L to R: Mike (Bowhunter), Matt (Agrontrutta), guide Mike Kuhnert, JohnW.
Front Row: Joe Walsh.

We stayed right in town for 3 days and 3 nights at the Old Sutton Place which is part of the Craig Trout Camp . Everything in town, including Izaak's and some fine wade fishing right at the Craig Bridge are within easy walking distance from here. It sounds too good to be true I know but this place really exists. On our first evening in town Matt took a 22" brown trout that had been feeding on a non-stop chow line of dead and decaying insects despite a heavy flight of caddis flies (our rental cars were covered with them). The insect life in this river made Penn's Creek during the month of May look like it had been hit by a slug of acid mine drainage. It was simply overwhelming.

Missouri River Rainbow

On our second day in town we launched two boats at the Holter Dam access and did a full day (10 hour) float down to the Stickney Access, a few miles downstream of Craig. Matt's nephew Mike Kuhnert took the oars of the first boat with Matt & John aboard while Mark commanded the second boat with Bowhunter and myself along for the ride. Although the previous evenings flight of caddis adults was thicker than all the caddis hatches I had ever seen in my life rolled into one event, they were nowhere to be seen this morning. We started the day by nymphing with small beadheads below an indicator and it wasn't but 5 minutes before Bowhunters indicator took a nose dive. Fish on! Solid, chunky, hard fighting acrobatic rainbows & browns kept us giddy as schoolgirls for the next few hours until things warmed up enough to throw some hoppers at the banks.

Wolf Creek Bridge

It had been a good water year in the Missouri River Basin this year. The river had earlier in the season received a good cleansing flush and was still pushing a lot water (approx. 4,400 CFS on this day) for mid-August. There are close to 5,000 fish per mile on this section of the Missouri and they hold over, under and along side the ubiquitous weed beds that are scattered across the entire breadth of the river, not just the bank zone.

Double Rainbow

Obviously, my fish is the bigger of the two. Bowhunter caught that puny rainbow on the right. I think he accidentally snagged it :^)

The Catch...
Reflecting some quality light and fine fishing.

...And the Release
A typical Missouri River hopper eater. I just hope Raisler doesn't raise those oars until I get out of the way if you know what I mean.

Another One In the Net
John puts another one in the boat just downstream of the Wolf Creek Bridge.

Mark Raisler - Our Guide & Co-Owner of Headhunters Fly Shop

Mark wrote a nice little treatise on what it takes to be a successful angler on the Missouri River. You can read it yourself by clicking right here. Of course, Bowhunter & I heard it over and over and over again while in the boat and I now have it committed to memory. We did exactly as we where told and sure enough if Mark wasn't right on the money with his advice. He rowed his ass off for 10 hours to put us over all the best water and, for that matter, did a super professional job in all the other aspects of the float too. All his hard work did not go unnoticed or unappreciated by these two Pro Staffers. Legendary Missouri River guide Pete Cardinal even cleans out Marks boat for him at the end of a day on the river. Thanks again, Mark!

The Channel Islands

The rivers side channels in the Holter to Craig stretch are my personal favorite spots when I'm wading on my own without the luxury of a drift boat.

A Giant Spring Creek

The water is wide; but you can cross over -during low flows if you pick your spots carefully as the Missouri River is eminently wadeable in most sections. Obviously the presence of a viable hatch will increase your odds of locating fish if you have your heart set on dry fly fishing.

Cooler Casting?
L to R: Matt, Guide Mike Kuhnert and John.

Another One Like the Other Ones

That Mike was wearing long pants this day did little to stop him from jumping out of the boat to cradle & release this butte of a bow.

Bowhunter Chillin'

Just downstream of the new Craig Bridge. Despite the lack of any viable insect emergences during these August doldrums, it had been a very productive day of nymphing and hopper fishing on the Mighty Mo.

Evening Light
The quality of light in the Missouri River Basin is second to none in Big Sky Country.

Night-Night!

From the Sutton House, aka the Rossiter Lodge-West in Craig, Montana.

Next up: Lewistown, Montana and Big Spring Creek.

I Can See For Miles And Miles And Miles...Oh Yeah

Salmon Forks (photo by the USFS)

Here's one final look back at our home for the week from Mud Lake Mountain, elevation 6361'. From this birds eye view it's hard to believe there is any human activity down there at all but we of course know better. If you look closely you can see the small clearing where our camp was in the right middle-ground, just to the left of the clay banks at the apex of the first s-turn on the river. In the background of course is Big Salmon Lake and the high peaks of the Swan Range including the 9556' Holland Peak. The ride back out was bittersweet to say the least, half way back to the trailhead I was already wishing it was my first day in the Bob instead of my last. May good wild country like the Bob Marshall, Great Bear and Scapegoat Wilderness Complex flourish forever!

The Evening Rise

South Fork Flathead River

It's unfortunate really that the South Fork of the Flathead River is Montana's last best westslope cutthroat trout stream. A trip along it's corridor is like going back in time to when Montana's waters & landscape were untouched by the hand of man. The river is a decent sized river by wilderness standards and hatches of mayflies & stoneflies here are about as regular as I've ever seen them in the backcountry. Small western green drakes, pale morning & pale evening duns and one of the best emergence's of large golden stoneflies in the state. Thanks to special regulations that were put in place back in the early 80's that limit angler harvest to 3 fish/day under 12" some sections of the river now support over 1,ooo westslopes per mile. River flows during this first week in August started off at around 900 CFS and gradually dropped to 700 CFS by the the end of the week. What little rain we had was hardly worth mentioning as it only lasted for about 15 minutes on our next to the last day.

Salmon Forks - Flathead River

The history of the westslope cutthroat pretty much parallels that of the eastern brook trout. Populations of both have been disseminated by habitat degradation and over harvesting due in no small part to their willingness to take a fly. Down in Yellowstone one can expect to take a number of beautiful fish in the 17"-20" range in a days fishing while up here the cutts typically range from 15"-18" albeit a little stockier and they are terrific fighters. Lighter in coloration than they're Yellowstone brethren they almost appear bright, like a fresh run steelhead. Just try to pick one out in the transparent water against a backdrop of multicolored river cobble -even with the aid of polarized glasses you'll have to look long and hard.

On our second day at the Forks, John was working the water downstream of camp when he hooked a large 18" cutthroat. While enjoying the fight of a lifetime on lightweight tackle a leviathan of a bull trout rose up out of the depths and attempted to eat the large cutthroat on the end of his line. For 10 or 15 seconds John was now playing two fish (over 42" worth) on the end of his line. The huge bull trout eventually let go and he successfully landed the westslope complete with fresh teeth marks on it. Dang, our loss, those bull trout sure are delicious and it would have been nice to have one back at camp to grill over the fire! That epic battle took place in the pool in the above photo.

As if the non-stop action to our big gaudy attractor flies during the middle of the day wasn't enough, none of us was expecting what awaited us on the river after supper was finished and the sun was off the water. Pale evening duns in size #16, heptagenia genus I believe, started trickling off as soon as the last bite of peach cobbler desert was finished and slowly increased in intensity as the days light waned. A half hour later spinners joined the mix and a full blown hatch & spinner fall rivaling the sulphers back home on Spring Creek could be counted on each and every night for the duration of our week long stay. The evening fishing was challenging for a freestone stream but the catching was nothing short of spectacular with Pro Staffers racking up double digit numbers as long as they got they're presentation right and used a reasonable artifice. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Matt in particular enjoyed the fine and far off fishing on the calm waters of our Home Pool next to camp. He was pitching #18 sparkle duns on 3X tippet to those silvery cutthroats. When he wasn't busy spotting the orbiting space station and multiple shooting stars during the Perseid meteor shower (avg. rate 60/hr) at night in camp, Matt was splainin' to me the difference between a grass, a sedge and a forb and how to properly analyze the histogram on my camera. Matt's a scientist and one of the smartest people I know (high praise indeed, I know!). I didn't understand a word he said about the histogram stuff but I appreciated the effort. Better dummy it down for me next time, Matt.

Unlike the easier fishing we encountered during the afternoon, in the evening when the pale evening duns were on the water you really had to bring your "A" game with you if you expected anything more than just casual success. And bring their "A" game with them those Pennsylvania Boys did! Schooled on the limestone spring creeks of the central, south central and, to a lessor extent, the eastern parts of the state, the Pro Staffers made short work of figuring out what was going on. They then proceeded to tune their terminal tackle and settled into a groove of casting, hooking, reeling and releasing deep bodied, hunchback cutthroats until the proverbial "white man's elk" came home. Even our hosts for the week, Mark & Janis Moss remarked on what a bucolic scene it was out there on the river after dinner with the Pro Staffers brightly colored fly lines arcing back and forth in unison over the Home Pool in the gathering twilight while ungodly numbers of fish were brought to hand. I truly wish I could have snagged smore shots of this event but I was honestly way too busy catching fish myself.

Who said there's no technical fishing when fishing for unpressured, gullible cutthroats? In the above photo Matt had to resort to a downstream reach cast with a 10' in-the-air-mend to deliver his #18 sparkle dun drag free on 3X tippet into the waiting maw of a 16" wild westslope.

The astute reader might notice from the dark line on Matt's wet wading pants that Matt had waded in pretty much right up to the family jewels to reach this fish. That had to be a little bracing considering the falling water & air temperatures as that big orange orb sank slowly over the Swan Range to the west.

Looking Upstream on the South Fork of the Flathead

And so the sun sets on yet another fruitful day of westslope cutthroat fishing along Montana's last best wild westslope cutthroat stream. My last fish of the week was thick bodied 17" cutthroat that fell victim to my #16 rusty spinner and then walked me halfway down the enormous Home Pool before I beached it in the gloaming light. Time pretty much stopped right there for me and I couldn't thing of a better way to conclude our visit to the Bob. It was now time to head back to camp, kick back and check out the Milky Way and that Perseid meteor shower of August. It had been quite a week in the wilds of Montana and I've never been more honored and proud to be associated with a such a fine bunch of guys as the RBF Pro Staffers.

Next up: Craig, Montana & head hunting on the Missouri River.

Hanging 'Round the Grubpile

Larry the Packer

The high point of the entire trip for me was the opportunity to meet up with and chew the fat with Larry, head packer for Salmon Forks Outfitters and all around great guy. Rarely seen without a smile on his face, a cup of coffee in his hand and an amusing story on his lips Larry is the real deal. Working as a packer for the USFS for over 20 years before coming to work for Salmon Forks he's pretty much seen it all in the backcountry as his seemingly endless supply of yarns often reflect. No macho-bravado nonsense here; just a good solid work ethic, a strong back and hands tough as leather with a "can do" type attitude under the most trying conditions. A short list of his accomplishments would include rescuing a group of stranded kids from the South Fork drainage while the raging fires of 2003 where fast closing in on them. Packing emergency supplies 40 miles in one day from Holland Lake to Big Prairie and rescuing some ill fated backpackers from Missoula up at Holland Pass who where on the verge of hypothermia when a freak summer snowstorm dumped 18 inches of heavy wet snow in the high country. The freezing Missoula boys were outfitted to the hilt with all the latest techno gear and Larry was using a $29.00 Army-Navy tent. Larry also has a reputation of being, shall we say, thrifty.

A few of my favorite quotes from Larry:

"Ron........wake up Ron......something ain't right out there.......Ron, I'm tellin ya, we got some action out there!" -One night in Salmon Forks hunting camp at 0200 hrs when the "biggest grizzly I've ever seen in my life" was down at the corals working the horses. He fired his revolver into the ground to run the bear off.

"I'm telling you Ron there's nothing over there in that bush....nothing there at all....I swear!" -just seconds before a full grown mountain lion walked out of said bush, exchanges eye contact with Larry and walked off into the brush. Larry was so slack jawed he forgot he even had a revolver on his hip.

"I'm telling you Janis, I sure got the best part of that meal" - He sure could talk good cowboy talk alright.

The Jerkline

Larry's pack string in camp one afternoon. His horse is the one on the far left. He only paid $1,200 bucks for it. Found it in the local bargain sheet but it's built like a brick shit house and could go back & forth over the Chinese Wall a dozen times in one day.

The South Fork Corridor
Looking upstream from Camp. This is the location of Larry's daily office from June through November.

Men of the Open Range

Sure is nice to be out of our offices for a few days. Nobody said these guys were great fire builders but in Bowhunter's defense, his expertise is really in putting fires out. This one is just about there. Remember, only you can prevent tourist tires in Montana.

Grazing the Stock

Each evening our camp wrangler, Rebbecca (I sure hope Matt or Mike snagged a shot of her because I forgot), would run the horses down to the river to graze & water them.

Counting Coup

Once again, all that wood & no fire with the morning coffee. What's up with that? Truth be told, a warm front had settled in over the region and it was 70F down at Meadow Creek this morning -virtually unheard of in these parts. A more typical morning temperature would have more like 45F.

The Hammock

John discovers the perfect way to relax after a tough day of bull trout catching.

Caution Horses

Our tents were set back away from the cooking area in a nice shady grove of lodgepole pine & spruce. Each tent had two cots and they were big enough even for me to stand up in. There was even one of those fancy new sun shower privacy tents in camp. It got a lot of use from all the dusty Pro Staffers.

Lost in Paradise

Ah the boy scouts. Boy, scouting sure has changed since I was a kid. We first crossed trax with 'em on our way back from Big Salmon Lake -they like were axin us for directions to Big Salmon Creek which they were only about 1/2 mile away from at the time. Seems they had lost contact with their pack string who had missed the correct turn off to Big Salmon Lake on the trail and were nowhere to be found. The scouts, and their fearless leader, later stumbled back into our camp more dead than alive wearing only day packs, with sneakers on the kids feet and no food, no shelter, no map and no idea whatsoever of what they were doing on this god forsaken death march across the wilderness. They had already walked close to 20 mile this day and 36 miles over the last two days, including penetrating the Rocky Mountain Front from Sun River Country via 8,000' White River Pass.........in sneakers mind you. Our hosts, Mark & Janis Moss, gladly took them in and provided them with food & a tent and some fine wilderness hospitality until their packer could eventually retrace his steps and rejoin the group the following day for the rest of the 30 mile grunt over the 10,000' Swan Range.

S.O.S.

Trouble was, they really didn't remember which of the two trailheads they left their return vehicle at Holland Lake. I guess it didn't really seem important at the time (sarcasm). They also had an unleashed dog with them in grizzly country and the dog could barely walk by the end of the second day. You would have to be one cold hearted S.O.B. not to feel sorry for the kids and the dog. The adults should have had their heads examined as there was simply no excuse for this sorry state of affairs and the lack of proper planning. In the above photo is an SOS note that the group leader hung at all the the trail junctions in the area to try and flag down Byron, their lost packer.

The Forlorn Hope

Here our lost boys are finally reunited with their pack train and once again on their way. They finally broke camp at 11:30 hrs, two days after wandering into our camp. Took 'em about 3 hours to go the first mile and a half and they almost left one of the boys behind after fording the South Fork. Oops, better go back and get him, and then start doing some head counts along the way. I truly hope they eventually made it out ok.

The Bob Marshall Wilderness is not an amusement park, nor is it Six Flags over Montana. It is some awesomely beautiful country but it can also be very dangerous wild country and it suffers fools very lightly. Go ahead and take it for granted and it'll come back and bite you in the ass. It's a cryin' shame that a bunch of 10 year old children and a poor innocent dog had to learn that lesson the hard way.

Next Up: The evening rise on the South Fork of the Flathead.

A Little Trouble at Big Salmon Lake

Next to the South Fork, Big Salmon Lake is probably the best known water in the Bob. Four miles long by 3/4 mile wide and over 600 feet deep, it's a beautiful lake containing cruising cutthroats and huge bull trout. And even though it's located 20 miles upstream from Spotted Bear it still receives a moderate amount of horse & foot traffic. Reports had been circulating around camp over the past few days of some pretty decent cutthroat fishing around the many points, drop-offs and inlets that encircle the lake. So with unbridled enthusiasm, the Pro Staffers unanimously organized a 12 mile round trip ride one day, led by our competent and affable host, Janis Moss, up to the main inlet of Big Salmon Creek at the head of the lake.

Pack Bridge - Big Salmon Creek

About a mile out of camp the west side trail crosses Big Salmon Creek on one of the many robust pack bridges scattered throughout the Bob. A closer inspection of the bridge revealed some pretty impressive construction techniques used by the USFS for such a remote location. Here below the lake the fishing is a little above average for 12 inch cutthroats with an impressive golden stonefly hatch in July. Perhaps the lake acts as an enrichment basin and enough nutrients are funneled into the outflow to foster & maintain an adequate food base for those carnivorous stonefly nymphs in the one mile stretch of creek between the lake outlet and the confluence with the South Fork.

The Four Horsemen at the Outlet of Big Salmon Lake

There goes the neighborhood! Who'd a thunk it, Pro Staffers at Big Salmon Lake in the Bob Marshall Wilderness??? I didn't share it with the rest of the guys but I knew the next four miles of trail along the lake would lead us through some high density bear habitat that was thick with ripening huckleberries. High volume mountain springs poured forth and gushed down the the mountainside then under the small bridges along the trail as we made our way along the north side of the lake.

JohnW Plying the Inlet of Big Salmon Lake

After finally arriving at the inlet of upper Big Salmon Creek around lunch time we tied off the stock, ate our lunches and changed into our wet wading gear.

Fish were already opportunistically rising in the estuary to any morsel that drifted down on the gin clear currents. I had accidentally located a local repository of leeches and was now pitching a few out into the current. Their undulating swimming motion drove those stupid trout nuts while they gorged themselves and I soon had a sizable school of cutthroat trout all lined up at the chow line. Chumming leeches to catch trout. I'd never heard of that before in fly fishing literature. No mention of it in "The treatyse of fysshynge wyth an angle" in the Boke of St. Albans, published in 1496. No mention of it in Minor Tactics of the Chalk Stream, by H.C.Cutcliffe in 1910. No mention of it in Truth is Stranger than Fishin' by Beatrice Cook in 1955. No mention of it in I Go A-Fishin', by W.C. Prime in1872. No mention of it in A River Never Sleeps, by Roderick Haig Brown in 1946. No mention of it in Matching the Hatch, by Ernest G. Schwiebert in 1955. No mention of it in The Flyfisher and the Trouts Point of View, by Col. E.W. Harding in 1931. No mention of it in The Living River, by Charles E. Brooks in1979. No mention of it in Till Fish Do Us Part, by Beatrice Cook in 1949. No mention of it in The Lure and Lore of Trout Fishing, by Alvin R. Grove in 1951 and certainly no mention of it in A Modern Dry Fly Code, by Vince Marinaro in 1950. There's no mention of it anywhere.

Make no mistake, we caught a few of those unpressured cutts but dang if those bull trout would NOT leave our flies alone. In the above photo, JohnW works the inlet drop-off and then sets the hook on what he thought was a foot long cutthroat only to be surprised that it was a much larger bull trout taking his fly.

Looks like John's in it for the long run as this bull trout walks him all over the Big Salmon inlet.

After a noble and lengthy battle, John eases the 20+ inch bull trout into the shallows. In the far background are the peaks of Pagoda (El. 8,027') and Turtlehead Mountains (El. 8,125').

That's what I'm talking about! This is the way to spend a delightful summer day in Big Sky Country. There was even an occupied bald eagles nest in a huge spruce tree over looking the inlet. The mother and fledglings watched this whole show unfold from their nest and were obviously collecting some pointers on the fine art of fishing from the Pro Staffers.

Your's truly dropped his fly size down to a #36 crippled chironamid emerger to purposely avoid targeting the bulls but even that failed to work and they were all over my fly like Oprah on a baked ham.

Yep, even Wade Rivers could catch those stupid bull trout.

Shortly after releasing this bull trout we heard a commotion emanating from back where the horses were tied up about a 1/4 mile from the inlet. Seems there was a bit of trouble a brewing. As Janis & I went over to investigate both, Matt & Mike got into bulls also. Matt's fish even tore off enough line on a long deep run out into the lake to expose his backing for the first time this summer. But all was not well back with the horses; one of the stock had become loose and another was laying on it's back sweating profusely and severely tangled up in it's rope with moderate lacerations & abrasions on it's legs and buttocks. Since we could only speculate what must have happened while we were back at the inlet, we had to now live in the solution and not the problem. The knots in the rope were so flippin' tight they could not be undone but I dislocated my index finger while trying. Luckily, Janis had a Leatherman tool in her saddle pouch and I proceeded to cut the horse free but it still refused to get up on it's feet as it was generally freaked out by the whole ordeal. Then I remembered a trick that Larry the Packer had taught us a few days earlier about tossing some water in the horses ear to make them stand up. This required another 1/4 mile trip back to the lake to get some water. Then yet another trip back to the lake to retrieve Janis & my gear which we had left there. To make a short story long, the horse eventually got on his feet and could walk with somewhat of a limp but would be unridable for the trip back to camp. It could have been a lot worse.

Big Salmon Lake

After the rest of the guys returned from their inlet fishing, we decided to head back to camp early in light of our recent setback. The first stop would be a major spring just a 1/4 mile down the trail where we could all take a break and water the stock and ourselves. Welp you guessed it, shortly after leaving the spring and while passing through a berry patch, with myself up in front of the string, I spied what I thought at first was a moose at about 30 yards. No wait a minute; that's no moose, it's a flippin' bear and it's a grizzly and it's a huge one! Prolly the biggest one I've ever seen up close and personal -you could even smell it since the wind was just right. The alpha bear stood up on it's hind legs and woofed at us. You could clearly see the dull red fire in it's eyes and fresh blood still dripping from it's mouth from it's last meal. My horse stomped the dirt with it's hooves then reared back on it's hind legs and threw me to the ground. The rest of the party was starting to come unglued also as there was obviously some big trouble ahead.

I froze. The grizzly paused, catching my movement, then lowered his head and with a sort of stiff- legged gait , ambled toward me swinging his head from side to side. I already knew that the worst thing I could do was run because Bowhunter Mike can run a hell of a lot faster than me. The bear stopped about 10 yards in front of me. I thought of Gentleman Jim Corbett who had once gone 112 rounds with a grizzly bear in Fairbanks Alaska back in 1926 but I knew I could never last that long. So I slowly reached into my pack and gradually pulled out my .44 magnum. I peered down the gun barrel and into the dull red eyes of the huge grizzly. He gnashed his jaws and lowered his ears. The hair on his rump stood straight up. We stared at each other for what might have been seconds but felt like hours. I knew I was not going to pull the trigger. My killing days had ended in Quang Tin Province with the end of the Tet Offensive back in '68, so I lowered the pistol and took one step backward and turned my head toward the trees. The giant bear flicked his ears and looked off to the side, then slowly turned away from me with grace and dignity and headed back into the timber. I found myself breathing once again with a flush face and a racing pulse rate. It now appeared like this bear would let us pass through it's territory after all.

The rest of the ride back to camp was relatively uneventful. Janis had radioed ahead to camp and told them of our troubles so Rebbecca, our camp wrangler, met us at the Big Salmon pack bridge with some fresh stock as both Matt and Janis had taken turns leading the lame horse down the rest of the trail on foot. Upon arriving back at camp we ran into a party of boy scouts who, despite (or possibly because of) a well established network of trails, were lost in this amazing wilderness. Once again, that'll be yet another story for another post in this series of epic adventures.

It had been quite a day in the Bob Marshall Wilderness and suffice to say that none of the Pro Staffers had trouble sleeping this night. As far as I know, no one caught any salmon, big or other wise , up at Big Salmon Lake today.

Next Up: Camp Life in the Bob

Coming Into the Country

The next day I met up with fellow Pro Staffers Agrontrutta (Matt), Bowhunter and JohnW in Columbia Falls where we would also join up with a friendly group of good old boys and all around great guys from Tennessee and our guides for this wilderness adventure, Salmon Forks Outfitters, for a the trip of a lifetime. A 20 mile horseback ride into the Salmon Forks area on the South Fork of the Flathead River in the Bob Marshall Wilderness. Because of it's sheer size, you can hike or ride horseback for days, exploring new country each day and living by your primordial instincts with a fly rod, map & compass. At night you can sit around the campfire and explore the mysteries of the universe beneath a starry sky filled with shooting stars. Yeppers, a trip into the Bob can be a life changing experience.

Spotted Bear Ranger Station

One of the most remote ranger districts in the lower 48 is the Spotted Bear District in the Flathead National Forest in Northwest Montana. To reach it one must traverse 55 miles of unpaved, dusty washboard type roads around the Hungry Horse Reservoir. Better tank up on gas and stock up on other provisions in the town of Hungry Horse because after you leave town you are on your own as far as supplies go. Once you get there though it's a fairly happening place with rangers, trail crews, summer interns, outfitters, forest service packers, helicopter pilots and your general assortment of dudes from all over the country descending on this isolated outpost at the edge of the Bob Marshall Wilderness. Encompassing entire river drainages and mountain ranges, Bob Marshall Country embodies the spirit of the Wilderness Act of 1964. It's truly a place where man is just a visitor and does not remain.

Spotted Bear River

We spent our first night about 10 miles from the Meadow Creek Trailhead at the well appointed Diamond R Ranch which is just across the road from the Spotted Bear Ranger Station where we dined, drank and fished to our hearts content. Here Matt tries his hand at fishing the Spotted Bear River after a sumptuous feast of roast pork loin with all the fixin's for dinner. That's the Diamond R on the high bank in the background with the outside deck looking right over the river itself. I think Bowhunter & JohnW were busy snapping towels at each other in the bathhouse right about now. We'll rise at first light in the morning and head over to the trailhead where we should be saddled up and on the trail by 0800 hrs.

Sirocco Flats - East Side Trail #80

Sirocco Flats is about 9 miles in and just upstream of the Black Bear Ranger Station. Here our host, Janis Moss, is explaining to JohnW how large the westslope cutthroats that Wade is gonna catch will be while we break for lunch along the trail. That's the South Fork in the background.

A Man Called Bowhunter

Some of us Pro Staffers also know him as Ernie Schwiebert. Here he is with his trusty steed, BJ at Sirocco Flats doing his best impersonation of one of Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders. He sure had me convinced.

Trails End

Finally!!! We arrived at Salmon Forks, about 20 miles into the Bob, around 1700 hrs. The ride was a long one but not nearly as tough as I thought it would be. It wasn't until mile marker 18 out of a 20 mile ride that my knees and butt started to ache and by then we were almost in camp. Here our outfitter/host Mark Moss and "Packer Larry" unpack and tend to the stock while we flatlanders walk it off so to speak before picking out our tents and setting up our cots for the week. Packer Larry is an endlessly entertaining character who will warrant a post all of his own later in this series. Mark Moss along with his wife Janis are the the owners/operators of Salmon Fork Outfitters and have been packing into the Bob for nigh on 22 years now. They've pretty much seen it all back here but nothing will compare to the woeful tale of the lost boy scouts who aimlessly wandered lost into our camp later in the week. They didn't even carry a map -and that's only the beginning of the story...

Dinner that first night was sirloin tip steaks right out of the camp grubpile. I was one happy camper!

Murphy Flats - South Fork Flathead River

Looking downstream towards the logjam channel on the left. Many a noble battle was fought in that channel by various Pro Staffers during the week. Just make sure you bring enough water to keep yourself hydrated because it's a long walk back to camp. At least one Pro Staffer almost didn't make it when his water ran out halfway back to camp while he was trekking solo. The air is so dry up here you could sit and watch the water evaporate right out of your glass.

Murphy Flats#2 - South Fork Flathead River

The level bank on the right extends upstream for about 2 miles and is so smooth you could ride a bicycle across it ala Paul Neuman in Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid. I spent an afternoon there picking & eating huckleberries while walking the bank and catching some big honking westslope cutts on Schroeder's parachute hoppers.

Can I Get a Witness:

Tenderfoot

Real men don't wear waders! At least that's what I'm gonna keep telling myself until I convince myself.

Westslope Cutthroat

These fish are full of piss and vinegar and don't give up the fight, even when in the net. Pound for pound they must rival the wild rainbows of the Upper Delaware River System for tenacity and brute strength.

Bowhunter Gets in on the Action Too

Although he was really in search of a big bull trout, Mike just hammered the cutts in this deep green slot.

Tally Ho Old Chap

New Fishing Grounds on the South Fork of the Flathead

They're not making any new country like this anymore and we're slowly running out of the old stuff. The water truly is gin clear and a hell of a lot deeper than it looks. Water temperature at noon was 52F.

Parting Shot: Beaver Dam on Phil Creek

In retrospect, I should have stopped and tossed a small parachute Adams in the middle of this beaver pond that Bowhunter spotted on Phil Creek, about 50 yards upstream from the main river.

"From where the sun now sets, I will walk no more forever" -Wade Rivers 8/4/2008

Next Up: Big Salmon Lake