I’ve been fishing in Idaho near the border of Montana for the last week. The weather, the fishing and the rivers were exactly what I hoped for, and I really enjoyed my time there.
Lawrence took the release video while we on the North Fork of CDA. I never considered releasing a fish in Slo-Mo, but I definitely liked the result and will be doing more when I have someone else fishing with me.
With that said, off to Montana…
Meg’s flying back to rejoin Trigger and me on the adventure. We talked about changing her flight from Bozeman to Spokane as it was closer to my location but decided to keep our original plans of Montana for her arrival. On this trip, her flight was scheduled to land at a reasonable time. I reserved a camp site twenty-two miles from the airport; so no Flying J rest stop on the first night of this visit.
As I drove back over the mountain range on I-90 into Montana, I spotted a smaller river following the interstate for a good majority of the descent. It looked clear and I noticed a couple of drift boats fishing, so obviously there must be trout. I had two days in Montana before Meg’s flight landed. I decided to give the state one more chance for fishable water before her arrival. I went to four different rivers in regions we didn’t visit on her last trip. Unfortunately, with the same results.
I won’t belabor the point much because we all know too well the challenges faced on the last trip. With that said, here are the areas I was hoping for more promising results.
Big Hole River: Although apparently famous, it was too high to adequately wade on this trip or anytime in the foreseeable future.
My first stop was the local fly shop and after speaking to the owner, he said the only real chance I had to wade fish was at Fishtrap Campground, about 38 miles upriver. After the 38 long miles that took well over an hour, I was extremely grateful for the views, although the fishing didn’t work out as well as I hoped.
The campground was almost empty and after looking at the water upon my arrival late that evening, I was optimistic about the fishing prospects early the following morning.
The next morning a few boats drifted by, and I’m sure the fishing would have been incredible… from a boat. Besides the clear running river I viewed coming down the mountain pass, this river had the most potential.
However, I only had a day and a half left before Meg’s arrival and wanted a few more options. So, I drove over the Madison River, the Gallatin and finally camped at the Yellowstone River. Yes, they were all blown out.
We arrived at our camp spot late that night and both agreed trying to fish rivers still as high as her last visit wasn’t a viable option. We considered Yellowstone Nat’l Park without fishing, knowing it’s now entering peak tourist season. However, most of the campgrounds were still closed for repairs due to the floods the year prior. With the potential crowds and lack of camping options, we decided to head toward Idaho. We headed west while Meg Googled the river I noticed on the way to pick her up: the St. Regis. It’s still in Montana near the border of Idaho.
Our drive to the river was roughly 4 ½ hours. As we have all done on long trips, we noticed billboard advertising we would never have otherwise. It’s not just the fact you’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s because somehow, these businesses can afford 20 billboards before their exits. Some are annoying, and others somewhat entertaining.
On my way across South Dakota, for example, there was a Mexican food restaurant with at least as many signs. They all had the same theme, ‘our food is so authentic…’. The first one started off with, ‘our food is so authentic, you’ll think you’re in Mexico’. There were numerous clever variations in their slogan along the way. The last sign before their exit said, ‘our food is so authentic, Trump would build a wall around it’. I love Mexican food. I laughed and was tempted to stop, but already had a below average lunch earlier and had miles to cover.
There was another establishment with just as many signs on the way to St. Regis and aptly named the St. Regis Travel Center. Their slogan is, ‘Best.Shake.Ever’.
I’m pretty sure there is no repercussion or recourse for using the terms, ‘world’s best’ or ‘world famous’ and I’m glad they didn’t take that approach. However, by using the word ‘ever’, they may have circumvented the entire way we judge roadside diners. With that said, neither of us had a milkshake for quite some time, so we stopped. In their defense, it was a damn good shake. I had a double-shot expresso shake and Meg opted for their ‘world famous’ Huckleberry shake. I didn’t even know Huckleberries were a real fruit to this point in my life and only equated the term as a prelude to, ‘Finn’ or ‘Hound’.
We then headed up the mountain to fish the St. Regis River the following morning.
