Total FlyFisher Nov 10

INSPIRATIONAL

TOTAL FLYFISHER92

I am quite new to ß y Þ shing, and my trips to the bank so far only amount to about a

handful. However, I do know that the glistening, crystal-clear rivers and streams in the northwest American state of Montana represent something of a Mecca for many avid ß y anglers.

A few months ago I was presented with the opportunity of a lifetime – the chance to visit the premises of ß y Þ shing apparel manufacturer Simms, based in the humble town of Bozeman, in the southwest corner of Montana.

The guys there had arranged for me, and several other angling journalists, to take two days out Þ shing on two rivers, the Yellowstone and the Boulder, both of which are world renowned for their trout.

Majestic Montana

Newbie ß y Þ sher David Guest struck lucky when he was offered the chance to Þ sh two of America’s prestigious trout rivers – the Boulder

and the Yellowstone. Welcome to Big Sky Country…

I’d heard much about the cutthroat, brown and rainbow trout, not to mention the whiteÞ sh (similar to our own grayling), which live in these famous rivers.

Over breakfast at my hotel, Rich Hohne, the marketing manager for Simms, explained the plans for the day. We’d be joining up with some local guides to Þ sh 13 miles or so of the Yellowstone River from the safety of drift boats.

“Miles of perfect water in stunning scenery with the chance of catching some perfect wild trout,” I thought. Fantastic.

A short drive from Bozeman found us stopping off at the nearby Sweetwater Fly Shop to pick up essentials. The staff had all grown up in luxury as far as proximity to great Þ shing waters goes, so their knowledge is second to none.

Our guides recommended

that we use a combination of bright dry ß ies paired with some heavier nymphs to get down in the current, so we bought plenty. After sorting out a few other items of tackle and arranging temporary Þ shing licences for our trip we set out on the half-hour journey to the Yellowstone.

We unloaded the three boats in our convoy from the back of typically huge American pick-up trucks. As we did, huge mountains loomed on the horizon and, despite it being a pleasantly warm 27ºC, there was still a faint outline of snow dusting the peaks.

I clambered aboard the small drift boat with Jeff Weakley, a fellow journalist, and our guide, Grant, and we set off across a calm, clear and fairly low Yellowstone. As we ß oated along, the bright conditions made it difÞ cult to spot Þ sh in the water below.

Jeff and I began casting toward features such as protruding rocks and low overhanging trees on the riverbank, as these are great Þ sh-holding areas.

Our bright dry ß ies held up our small, heavy nymphs Þ shed about two feet below. My casting was – and still is – improving and, having Þ shed mainly on stillwaters back home, the challenge of Þ shing a quick, ß owing river was something I relished. Mending the line and keeping the ß ies drifting with the ß ow of the water was something I picked up quickly. It was an active style of Þ shing that I enjoyed. I had to adapt my casting, making sometimes long, sometimes short casts depending on where I was in the river and the features around me.

The sun glistened on the pink post of my dry ß y. I

P92-95_TFF_12_Montana.indd 1P92-95_TFF_12_Montana.indd 1 21/10/10 10:06:0421/10/10 10:06:04

INSPIRATIONAL

93www.totalflyfisher.com

David’s fellow angling journalists, Mike Pehanich and Jeff Weakley, cast into the crystal-clear waters of the Yellowstone.


INSPIRATIONAL

watched intently as it bobbed up and down on the current, which was getting feistier as we went.

“Keep the ß ies there!” Grant barked as we approached a patch of still water over on the far side of the river. Several uncovered rocks had disrupted the ß ow of the current, leaving a smooth patch of water, like a back eddy, which looked an obvious Þ sh-holding zone.

“Hit it!” Just at the moment Grant shouted the instructions I watched the dry dip slightly from the surface. I struck Þ ercely, pointing the rod tip up

high and the Þ ght began.I could tell it wasn’t a huge

Þ sh but it fought for all its worth, ß ashing between the rocks and boulders scattered over the riverbed. I battled

my trout over the rim.Perfect, my Þ rst Þ sh of the

day! Not a trout, but another species native to the area – a whiteÞ sh. The Þ sh was a decent size, perhaps 16 inches

or so. Grant didn’t seem as thrilled about this as me, though: “They’re not a highly regarded species here. Most locals call

them ‘trash Þ sh’ because they compete with the trout. It’s a shame because it makes them very underutilised.”

Continuing on our drift, the water was mainly calm with a few patches of fast, broken water. Jeff and I enjoyed the next hour, catching mostly whiteÞ sh and a couple of

rainbow trout but things slowly began to dry up.

Grant suggested that we switch to a single dry ß y as he had spotted several Þ sh rising. Jeff set about casting his ß y into the shaded area along the side of the bank where the water was calmer. Sure

enough, he got a take within

minutes – another whiteÞ sh!A couple more hours passed

and we approached our landing point lower down in the river. We had to wait for a while for the other two boats in our convoy to catch up but soon enough we were sat around the dinner table in a restaurant, barely touching our food as we excitedly discussed the day’s action.

It seemed that everyone in our party had a productive day but the guys from Simms reckoned the next day would be better, on the Boulder River.

I got back to my room exhausted from a full day on the boat and collapsed into a dream haunted by shimmering scales.

The next morning we jumped into the pick-up trucks and drove for about 40 minutes before arriving at our launch point on the Boulder.

The Boulder is a faster river than the Yellowstone and, when I was there, it was suffering from low water. The guide would have his hands

The Þ rst Þ sh of the trip for David Guest (holding

rod) – not a trout, but a Montana-native

whiteÞ sh, a close relative of the grayling.

A small but perfectly formed rainbow from the Boulder River– you can’t

help but smile upon seeing this in your net.

with my line to keep constant pressure on the Þ sh. I was, after all, still a beginner at this. Soon enough Grant was reaching for the net, and I watched out of the corner of my right eye as the wooden frame of the net swooped into the water below and I steered

Just at the moment my guide shouted, I watched the dry dip

slightly from the surface. I struck Þ ercely, pointing the rod tip up

high and the Þ ght began.


INSPIRATIONAL

95www.totalflyfisher.com

full dodging protruding rocks and boulders here. It was no surprise where the river got its name from!

This time out I was paired with my colleague, Nick Marlow, who has been on his fair share of ß y Þ shing adventures, but even he admitted that he hadn’t Þ shed anything like this.

The ride was rough, to say the least, and the Þ shing far more challenging. Because of the faster current and low water there were less Þ sh-holding areas to target. Casting had to be far more accurate, something I found to be a challenge.

We were using a similar setup to the previous day but I was Þ nding it difÞ cult to avoid losing my nymphs on the bottom. After an hour or so of frustrating Þ shing my guide did away with the nymph, so that I just had the dry ß y, and within about three casts I was into a Þ sh.

It made a dash for the underside of the raft but I

managed to manoeuvre it away. The raft bounced across the river as I arched over the front of the boat, desperate for a look at what I had on the end of my line.

Our guide managed to Þ nd a calmer spot and as we moved away from the white-water chaos of the middle part of the river I caught a glimpse of gold shimmering under the water – a brown trout!

The Þ sh was netted soon enough. When it was, I was in awe of its beauty – a small but perfectly formed wild brown trout. It wasn’t a big Þ sh, 12 to 14 inches, but it was a stunning creature. Its colouring and markings seemed brighter and more distinct than any brown I’d

caught before. Perhaps I was just getting caught up in the moment of catching my Þ rst wild Montana brown trout?

The rest of the afternoon proved difÞ cult. Despite the sky turning overcast and the air temperature dropping slightly, the Þ shing became tougher because of the low- water conditions.

At the end of our day, we all

pitched in to pull the rafts up the bank at our exit point, and enjoyed sharing stories of our day’s Þ shing as we did.

Finally, everyone involved posed for a group photo to commemorate our adventure. As we did so, the sun reappeared from behind the clouds of the enormous Montana sky. It was the perfect end to a perfect trip. TFF

Not a beast but a truly magniÞ cent Þ sh and a personal

milestone for David – his Þ rst Montana brown.

The sun sets as the group poses for a photo – a memorable two days was had by all.


Documents

Total FlyFisher Nov 10