Where Potatoes Trump Trout

I grew up in parts of the country where water is pretty much everywhere. In Michigan, where I have spent much of my adult life, the bounty of water is all around you in rivers, lakes, marshes. First-timers standing on the shore of one of the magnificent Great Lakes are astonished that they cannot see the shore on the far side.

Thin blue ribbons on a big brown landscape: Missouri River below Holter Dam

It is so different out here in the Rockies. When it comes to water, you don’t have to travel far to realize that scarce is the word. Much of the region is high plains or desert, sitting in the rain shadow east of big mountain ranges. Winter’s snow falls high up in these mountains, well away from the population centers in lower elevation valleys. Extended drought conditions in the region have brought its water scarcity into front-page focus.

These landscapes were transformed drastically thanks to the modern marvel of irrigation. Beginning a hundred years ago, water management essentially made this region inhabitable by modern standards. High-mountain snowmelt captured in reservoirs is plumbed across vast landscapes of otherwise arid land. Thus, cities and farmland thrive. This water management underlies the agriculture economy that so much of the region depends upon.

Yellowstone’s reputation as a wildlife sanctuary is well-known for its bison, grizzly, and wolf. Well-known, too, is its protection of geysers and other geothermals. It turns out that it’s also a sanctuary for rivers, sitting as it does atop the Continental Divide. Buffalo Bill Dam, for example, sits on the east slope of Yellowstone National Park, less than forty miles from the Park’s East Entrance. Built in the early 1900s on the North Fork of the Shoshone, it was one of the first western reservoirs.

Hebgen Reservoir on the Madison, less than 20 miles from YNP

Shoshone’s North Fork isn’t alone. Not far in any direction beyond the Park’s boundaries, the rivers that begin in Yellowstone are abruptly meet western water management.  The Madison, the forks of the Snake, the Gallatin all encounter dams or irrigation diversions not far outside of the Park.  The Yellowstone River alone is unique, traveling uninterrupted for hundreds of miles before joining the Missouri in eastern Montana. For this, it earns the reputation as the longest undammed river in the lower 48.



Yellowstone River, undammed to Billings and beyond

Under western water law, the water in rivers is owned by someone; land owners and water districts. Under this ownership, a river’s water gets diverted from the mother channel out into vast irrigation districts where it is divided and divided again. In many cases, the diversions are complete…the river’s natural channel becomes completely dewatered. The mighty Colorado River is just a trickle by the time it reaches the Gulf of Mexico. Traveling I-80 on the way home, I watched as the North Platte River, a huge tributary in the Missouri River watershed, is completely dewatered by the time it reaches western Nebraska. There, huge irrigation canals brim with water while the natural channel is left dry and weed-filled.

In my time around Yellowstone, I have witnessed just how complete the region’s plumbing system is. I accept the multiple uses that water serves in the region for municipal water systems, agricultural irrigation, hydroelectric power generation, as well as recreation and tourism. And, I fully appreciate the terrific trout fishing that occurs just below many of these dams thanks to their coldwater releases.



Diversion boards on Henry's Fork, 80% of channel blocked

Nevertheless, it is still shocking to a river lover and trout fisherman to see the plumbing system up close, first-hand. One such revelation came in late September. I had traveled west of the Park into Idaho a couple of hours to meet up with Phil and Marg Carroll, former Michigan friends. We camped in an RV Park outside the town of St. Anthony.



The fabled Henry’s Fork of the Snake River passes right through downtown there. Henry’s Fork is a Mecca for anglers who come from around the country and the world to fish its storied waters. Harriman Ranch and Mike Lawson’s Flyshop in Last Chance are just 35 miles upstream along US-20 from St. Anthony. An attractive city park straddles the river in town, so I stopped for a look.



Irrigation  canal at St. Anthony, unguarded by fish weir

To my astonishment, what must be 80-90% of the river’s water is diverted out of the natural channel and into a huge irrigation canal. Trout were rising less than a hundred yards upstream from the gaping maw of that canal, yet no weir prevents fish from traveling downstream to perish out in the labyrinth of canals and ditches irrigating the expanse of potato and hay fields. Here is where potatoes trump trout. It reminded me of the popular t-shirt showing a big trout in a sizzling skillet. The motto reads, “The End of the Rainbow.”

In July, Heidi and I traveled to Glacier National Park for our anniversary. As we passed by Great Falls Montana, we ventured downriver about ten miles to see what gave the city its name, the Great Falls on the Missouri River. Lewis & Clark’s Corps of Discovery in 1804 cited these falls as one of the most significant natural features encountered on their epic expedition of the American West.

Great Falls on the Missouri, dwarfed by Ryan Dam

We weren’t looking for trout fishing. After all, dams begin on the Missouri River more than a hundred miles upstream. All we wanted was to see a significant natural feature in the nation’s history, to feel the sense of place there. Well, the Great Falls are spared…but less than 100 yards upstream from the falls sits Ryan Dam, a huge hydroelectric dam. The visual impact is deflating. I don’t think that Meriwether Lewis would have approved.

Cutthroat Diary, Homage to Summer

After four days of driving, I arrived home on October 19^th. There are many more stories from Yellowstone to share in coming posts. But, it’s deep into fall. Halloween has passed. We’ve turned back the clocks. Chilly weather is telling us of what’s to come.

I can’t turn up the thermostat for you, but I can share my memories of warm weather fishing in the heart of summertime.

Lamar River, July 19th

In the July 29^th post, I wrote about how much I was looking forward to fishing for cutthroat trout up in the Park’s Northeast corner. This is the place to be in the Park during the summer months when the Madison and Firehole Rivers get too warm for fishing.

It takes two hours to drive to Lamar Valley from Old Faithful. A challenge to fishing there is where to stay. Nearby campgrounds (Slough Creek, Pebble Creek, Tower) are always full, and don’t accept reservations. Roosevelt Lodge is always booked solid too. Cabins and motel rooms may be rented up in Cooke City out the Northeast Entrance, but the travel time eats into the fishing time on precious weekends. Besides, my paltry paycheck only goes so far. That money pays for gas, trout flies and beer, not lodging.



Fishing with Mike Rogers & Ted Weglarz, Aug. 1st

Ted worked the summer up at Roosevelt Lodge. He likes fishing as much as I do, and our weekends overlapped. Thanks to his hospitality, I got in more time on the Lamar and Yellowstone Rivers than I ever expected. His cabin is like the Taj Mahal for that part of the Park: room for a roll-away bed, private bath, even a small electric furnace (most of the cabins at Roosevelt have small wood stoves, and yes, you need a heat source even in summer).



Yellowstone River below Tower Falls, Aug. 2nd

My log book records 11 days of fishing on the Lamar, Yellowstone, Soda Butte and Slough Creek; July 14^th to September 6^th. Cutthroat trout are so amenable for summertime fishing. They are active feeders throughout the day, even under bright, sunny skies. They are not terribly finicky about what they eat…well, most of the time. They are a marvel to catch; the Park’s native trout, evolved to thrive in these fast currents and infertile waters. And, they grow big.

It is summertime fishing at its best. Warm temperatures, but never hot. Many hours of daylight, so you are never trying to beat the clock.  Big, eager fish. The wide open panoramic Lamar Valley surrounding you.  And, while Lamar Valley is notorious for getting dirty and unfishable from thunderstorms that build up on warm summer afternoons, this season was exceptionally free of those disappointments. We only got blanked out on Labor Day weekend with a rare, weekend-long rainy spell (does it rain everywhere in the country on Labor Day weekend?).

Big Cutthroat, Yellowstone River, July 18th

The Northeast corner of the Park draws a lot of fishermen, especially in recent years. The collapse of cutthroat fishing on the Yellowstone River above the falls has pushed many anglers into Lamar Valley.  But, “a lot of fishermen” is a relative term. This is nothing like fishing in Michigan or the Northeast.

Anglers tend to bunch up on the more accommodating waters of Soda Butte Creek (closer to the road, easier to wade). In contrast, the Lamar River gives you a whole lot of water to spread out on as it meanders far from the road all the way down the miles-long meadow valley. For me, the ever-present bison are much more of a concern. While they pose no threat of attack, you don’t want to be between them and where they want to go.



Mike on the Lamar, Aug. 1st

The salmonfly hatch on the Yellowstone River below the falls was a real highlight to the fishing this year. They lasted for more than a month, and kept the fish actively feeding and looking up. These two-inch long insects flying around the river sure do add excitement to the scene.



The Lamar/Soda Butte Confluence, always fish here

Mayflies were also a highlight. The main lesson I learned this summer can be summed up simply: there isn’t a mayfly that a cutthroat trout will pass up. I know  the fishing books talk about terrestrial and attractor patterns for these waters, but my go-to flies for most of the summer were mayfly patterns (smaller as the season progressed).



Big trout on a #18 ant; Lamar River, Sept. 6th

Still, it always pays to try different flies when the fishing slows. One joy of cutthroat fishing is that the fish reward you for doing so. They will come up and take a look at whatever looks like an insect. I had a number of successes switching flies until I found a winner. My largest cutthroat of the summer came on a green caddis pattern on the Yellowstone, and the last trout of the summer on the Lamar came on an ant.

It was an idyllic summer of trout fishing. I can’t wait to go back.

Work, Jobs & Trout in the Intermountain Economy

I have never lived in a state with fewer than seven million people. Nine million people live in Michigan, where my love for the outdoors really took hold. Although you can get out in the woods and water there, you are never too far from a lot of other people enjoying the same thing. The East Coast is even more densely populated. Then, there is California where Heidi is from. 37 million people live in the Golden State.

I-90, near Buffalo WY

It’s so very different here in the intermountain region. Although Montana has about the same land area as Michigan, it has just one million residents…one-tenth of the population, more or less. Wyoming, Idaho and Utah are equally sparsely populated. Anything with a population of 50,000 is a big city out here. Lots of space, very few people.
It’s deceptive when you come here during the summer tourist season. You see people everywhere, especially around the big destinations like Yellowstone. Towns and highways are full of tourists in July and August. Restaurants and shops have lots of customers. But, it’s a seasonal illusion. Summer’s bubble of population shrinks dramatically after Labor Day.


Fence line along US 287, Cameron MT

So does the employment base that supports the summer tourist economy. It is a real eye opener to be a part of this seasonal economy.

Xanterra, my employer, hires over 2,000 seasonal employees to operate the lodges in Yellowstone National Park. They are virtually all seasonal, part-time jobs; only a few hundred are full-time, year-round positions. Even the jobs with the National Park Service are mostly seasonal. By mid-October, most operations in the Park close. When the operations end, so do the jobs.

I come to Yellowstone on a lark, for the fishing. It’s great having my housing and meals provided, and a small paycheck that covers gas, trout flies, beer and occasional entertainment/fine dining in the outside world. Heidi and I have already raised our family, and we are blessed with retirement income and good health insurance. Our financial needs are modest.

Jefferson River Valley, Three Forks MT

It is not a lark for some of the employees here. For them, seasonal, part-time work is the best job they can find in this sparse regional economy. When this job ends, it’s a scramble for them to find the next job. For many, the hospitality/food & beverage job market is a treadmill they are caught on.

Gaps in employment are a norm. The winter tourist season (in the snow sports, or at a travel destination in the Sunbelt) doesn’t start until early December. There is a similar employment gap of another month or two in the spring. The uncertainty of where the next job is going to come from is stressful. Some are lucky enough to have a sympathetic family member to take them in during their time off. I suspect that more than a few wind up homeless for a while.

Open Range near Browning MT

For sure, a lot of people do this by choice. They are willing to make the tradeoff in order to live away from the big city; up in the mountains; near their outdoor hobbies. Some of them are clever, or fortunate, enough to find year-round, full-time employment. I know a skilled tradesman who works here at Old Faithful as one of the few year-round, full-time Xanterra employees. He lives here in Montana by choice, for the outdoors and rural life. Down in Salt Lake City, he was making $30 an hour. Here, his pay is $18 an hour.

Cowboy statue, Thermopolis WY

For a lot of the twenty-somethings, it is a job choice. But, there is a lot of forty- and fifty-somethings working here too. Observation tells me many of them are on the part-time, seasonal treadmill. I have a new-found appreciation and empathy for the housekeeping, food & beverage, and other workers in the travel/hospitality industry. I am much more mindful of the tips I leave whenever I am traveling.

Half Rivers

One great asset of the Park’s trout fishing is its easy accessibility. Miles upon miles of great trout water are just off the road along the Madison, Firehole, Gibbon, and Lamar. The many turnouts make it easy to pull off the road, gear up and walk just a short distance to begin fishing a great piece of water.

Needless to say, the roadside of the river is what gets the most angling attention. But, what about the opposite side of these rivers? It amazes me how little that side gets fished to. Or, fished to properly.

Firehole River, from the far bank

I dub them ‘half-rivers.’ Very often (well, approximately half the time) the best trout lie is across the river on the other side from the road. A log, large rock, or current seam forms the soft, protected spot and food concentration where good fish like to lay and feed. As the river twists and turns down its gradient, current breaks naturally favor one side of the river over the other. Besides good trout cover, the far bank has another attraction: unmolested trout that haven’t been spooked and cast to by multiple anglers throughout the day.

Few anglers make the effort to get to the far bank and fish these other half-rivers. A good Lefty Kreh-grade angler might make the right presentation to some of these spots across multiple current seams with the required distance and accuracy. My field observations, however, tell me that few anglers can cast with this level of ability. I certainly can’t.

Madison River at Big Bend, looking back toward road

Granted, it does take effort to cross these streams to the far bank. Time and again, I have been rewarded for doing so. This is why I put such high value on good wading skills and a good wading staff.

River familiarity helps too. You can’t wade across just anywhere along rivers like these with their quick currents and uneven stream beds. With trial and error from multiple attempts, I have discovered many good crossing points. I have also discovered a pretty reliable rule of thumb for a good crossing. In general, the very bottom of a pool, where it shallows up just above the break over into fast current of the next riffle stretch, can present a good crossing point. Here is where the river can yield a combination of water depth and current speed that lets you get across.

Haynes Meadow from the far bank

I would say the benefits of fishing along the bank opposite the road are most pronounced on the Lamar. Many of the roadside gravel bars aren’t steep enough to form the necessary shelf and water depth for holding good fish. It is so delightful to discover cutthroat trout lying just feet off the far bank, right on the shelf where the current breaks from fast to slow.  

On the Madison, I have found surprising good trout cover that was not apparent to me until I crossed to the other side. Same goes for the Firehole, where getting to the far bank lets you fish to some great log cover and deep runs absent from the roadside. If nothing else, fishing the bank away from the road gives you more elbow room to fish. I bump into fewer anglers over there. It is easier to take what the river and the fish give you this way.

Steep banks on Lamar hold good fish

This is my kind of fishing. I like to roam. In between catching trout, exploring the river’s many permutations is just plain fascinating. Understanding the river’s riddles is just as important to angling success as choosing the right fly and making a good cast is.

The Visitors

More than three million people visit Yellowstone National Park each year. July and August are the busiest months by far. That’s when things get almost frenetic afternoons at the Old Faithful Inn. It is said that something like 30,000 people visit the Old Faithful area daily during the summer. Most stay just long enough to watch an Old Faithful eruption and buy a t-shirt or ice cream cone.



Old Faithful Inn Lobby, from the Mezzanine

A small number of visitors have the time to linger longer, and have planned ahead enough to spend at least one night inside the Park. It is an entirely different experience for them. By 6:00 pm or so, most of the day visitors have departed, driving to get to their dinner and lodging outside the Park. Evening time in the Park and here in the Upper Geyser Basin are quiet and serene. So go the mornings, too, before the next surge of day visitors arrive. Geyser steam hangs in the cool morning air, and the slanting morning light adds texture and color to the landscapes. When you stay outside the Park, you lose 4-6 hours of daylight experiencing the Park at its best.



Regardless of their individual timetables and motivations, I thoroughly enjoy greeting visitors at the Inn’s Front Desk. They walk slack-jawed into the Inn’s lobby, necks craned upward to the towering log beamed frame and ceiling ninety feet up. The Inn inspires awe, respect and admiration for the remarkable craftsmen who built it in just one year’s time more than a century ago. And, the NPS commitment to historic preservation that keeps it here.

Backroads Cycling Tours

Tauck tour bus

On any given day, one-fourth to one-third of Inn guests is with a tour group. Big-name bus tour operators like Tauck and Caravan; smaller specialty tours enjoying a niche of the Park experience; family/association reunions. I snapped a few representative photos the other morning in the back parking lot on the way to breakfast.

The hectic summer season ended palpably last week with Labor Day. School session ends family vacations, the days have shortened and cooled, and most of the blathering motorcycles are back home. The end of the season has already begun for some Park operations. Labor Day was the last day for Roosevelt Lodge, and many of the activities (horse/stagecoach/boat rides) have already ended too.

YNP Park History Buffs

World Outdoors Hiking Tour

This is a wonderful time to be at Yellowstone. It is much more enjoyable getting around the Park with fewer visitors and lighter traffic. The bison and elk are returning from the more remote parts of the Park and are more visible. The elk rut has begun, quite a show. The rapidly changing Rocky Mountain weather adds drama to this time of year too. There is snow in the forecast for Friday…then sunny and 60’s on Saturday.

Season's closed for Roosevelt Lodge

The season’s end is in sight, but I have five more weeks here. And, the fishing will only get better as the Madison and Firehole come back into play.

Tools of the Trade

As friends and family well know, I am prone to contrarian thinking. That is certainly true when it comes to fly fishing gear. Catalogs and fly shops tantalize the sport each spring with new models, designs, and construction materials. Some anglers have a dozen or more fly rods, and many reels. Not me.

My inventory of fly rods ends at just two. My everyday rod/reel is ten years old. Still works just fine. When the big trout start running up the Madison River out of Hebgen Lake in a few weeks, I’ll rig up my bigger rod too. That’s it, two rods.

It isn’t just that I rank poorly as a member of the consumer economy, though I am certainly that. Rather, I regard a few other pieces of equipment as much more important to my own angling satisfaction and success. My approach to fishing equipment is similar to Warren Buffett’s approach to the stock market. You know, invest in railroads instead of biotechs. For fly fishing equipment, a few mundane items are much more valuable to me.



Simms wading staff; collapsible, tethered

At the top of the list is my wading staff, a Simms collapsible, tethered one that I won in a TU chapter raffle some eight years ago. I would not fish the rivers out here without it. I cannot believe how many anglers wade these Western streams without a wading staff. It is a recipe for a cold dunking, or, worse, a hard fall on an unforgiving cobbled streambank.



Wading support is a beautiful thing

Whether it’s wading in a fast current or keeping my balance along a rocky bank, that wading staff provides a whole lot of comfort and security. With it in hand, I am a three-legged stool methodically getting into the right position to work a piece of water. I subscribe to Craig Mathews’s maxim: short casts from the right position. Lefty Kreh can properly present a dry fly forty feet across several different current seams. I know I’ll never cast like that. When this wading staff wears out, I will not hesitate to plunk down the considerable sum to buy a new one.

Next are the wader boots I use. They are high top style with wide, studded soles. There are lighter ones on the market, and there are easier ones to get on and off. But, for wading stability and ankle support, these are unmatched.

Makes landing/releasing a trout a dream 

A good net is third on my list. Two seasons ago, my ten year old mesh net went floating down the Gallatin while helping Paul Meyers net a nice trout. I could not have been happier to see it get away. Enough of the hassles of getting a hook snarled in the net’s mesh after landing a fish and the fish getting wrapped in the mesh.

Next time I was in town, there was a dandy rubber mesh “ghost net” on display in Bob Jacklin’s shop. Oversize too, enough space in the opening to land bigger trout. A good magnet release came with it. I cannot tell you how much more enjoyable netting and releasing a trout is with this rubber mesh net. Easier on me, easier on the trout. Worth every penny of its higher cost, and every ounce of its added weight.

Another valuable part of my fishing equipment is my iPhone. Enclosed in a waterproof case by Lifeproof. Easy, one-handed, worryfree photos on the stream. Easy photo sharing too, via email, streaming and posting to this blog.

Not the easiest place to catch/land a fish

The reward: big, slab-sided Yellowstone cutthroad

I’ve begun to hear a little noise coming from my reel’s bearings. And, rod tips are notoriously fragile things. Wear-and-tear will one day claim rod and reel. Until then, my money is going to these mundane pieces of equipment first.

A Tale of Two Rivers

Living out here all summer lets me fish many different rivers. Close by. On consecutive weekends recently, I fished two very different rivers, just one hour away in opposite directions from Old Faithful. Each river provides a delightful fishing experience in its own unique way.

I fished the Madison River on August 9^th outside the Park below Quake Lake. Having an entire day to fish, I chose to explore a place new for me at Raynolds Pass Bridge. I wrote about this stretch of river before back in June. A most astounding piece of trout water, it is a favorite of mine.  With little more flow volume than Michigan’s Au Sable River below Mio, the Madison River below Quake Lake creates an amazing amount of trout habitat.  The Madison’s unique assets are its year-round source of stable cold water (Hebgen Lake), a steep gradient, and a boulder-strewn riverbed. When that fast-moving water meets all those boulders, the result is the most trout-holding water per foot of river that I have ever seen.

Madison's fast water, Raynolds Pass Bridge

It isn’t easy fishing here. The bouldered bottom makes wading difficult. My wading staff is constantly at hand. Fishing upstream is the only direction to maintain stable footing. Try wading downstream instead, and the swift current sweeps your foot away from your intended landing spot.

The trout here don’t make it easy either. They enjoy a plentiful supply of aquatic insects, so they get very choosy when feeding. A lot of fishing pressure adds to their selectivity. Refusals are routine as you try to solve the puzzle of which fly will work.

The weather below Hebgen Lake this day was a welcome change from a stretch of gloom in the Park. Low, gray clouds parted as I passed Quake Lake. I enjoyed a bright, clear sky all the way to dusk.

Summer in Madison Valley

Beginning in early July, this stretch of water becomes hatch water. Mayflies, stoneflies and caddis erupt in succession, providing great dry fly fishing late in the day. Nymph fishing still works during the day as summer progresses, and terrestrials are worth a try too.

The state of Montana has a riparian law allowing angler access to rivers below high water mark. Like Three Dollar Bridge several miles further downstream, angler access is further improved by an easement along both banks allowed by Three Dollar Ranch. A twenty minute walk along the sagebrush ridge brought me to a beautiful stretch of river with plenty of soft pockets and pools along at the edges. As popular as this stretch of the Madison is, I had plenty of elbow room too. The bankside willows were much more challenging than fellow anglers.

One of the Madison's turbocharged rainbows

The evening’s dry fly action was hours away, so I began fishing nymphs. After a couple of small fish quickly, the action slowed through the afternoon. Sometime after 3pm, I had several fish take a whack at my strike indicator. The fish were beginning to look up. Hot and tired from a day of dancing on boulders, I switched to a Parachute Adams as I worked my way back to the car for a dinner break. In quick succession, I hooked a big brown and a rainbow, landing neither. I pulled too hard on the first, could not get below the second to land it in the fast current. The rainbow made two long sprints, visible in the shallow water of a long riffle. What a thrilling fish to hook!

The river at dusk

Returning to the river about 6:30 pm, I was treated to two hours of challenging dry fly fishing as the trout keyed in on a succession of insects. The Parachute Adams worked again for a while, then started getting refused. An X Caddis fooled a couple more before the refusals began. Dusk was settling as the rises continued. Craig Matthews at Blue Ribbon Flies had alerted me to watch for mayfly spinners, but I waited too late to dig one out and try tying a knot in the fast-fading light. That turned out to be the fly-of-the moment. Back at the parking lot, another angler reported catching a 20” brown on a spinner. I will never forget that walk back to the car along the sagebrush ridge under a full moon in the cloudless Montana sky.

Fall River, at Union Falls Trail crossing

A week later, fishing the Fall River could not have been much more different. While the Madison enjoys big-name status, few anglers know about the Fall River, let alone ever fish it. This is off the beaten path fishing.



The Fall River lies in the Park’s southwest corner. We reached it traveling Grassy Lake Road just outside the Park’s South Entrance at Flagg Ranch. Eight miles of excellent gravel road gave way to the last two miles on a rutted stretch that still bore wash-outs from spring runoff. A steep, rutted descent to the trailhead made us wonder if we could drive back out. In for a dime, in for a dollar, the saying goes. Down we went. From the parking lot at the trailhead, a flat, easy 1.3 mile trail leads to the river. Hikers have to wade across here to continue on to Union Falls, a popular back country destination.

The setting here is back country pristine. No road noise or cattle grazing in the distance. No bankside paths worn down by a succession of anglers. No 20” trophy fish will come from these waters, and no prolific hatches will taunt an angler with the scene of many rising trout either. Instead, effortless, almost giddy midday fishing to eager native trout in a beautiful wilderness setting.

A beautiful back country river

We began fishing downstream, Ted jumping ahead several hundred yards. There are no hatch charts or other information about how to fish this little gem; it is back-to-basics search fishing. The current seemed too fast to fish a dry fly, there were no bugs in the air, and it was mid-morning in August. Since I already had my sink tip and streamer on the line, it was the logical thing to try first. It proved to be a good choice. Ted barely got on the board for the afternoon fishing a hopper.

Standing mid-stream in shin-deep water and casting to the deep-side bank of a long run, I began to catch fish immediately. Some on the black wooly bugger, some on the trailing prince nymph.  These trout are opportunistic feeders, no big hatches on a river like this. And, they hit with the abandon of fish that seldom see angling pressure. Almost all were 6-8” cutthroat trout with a couple of rainbows coming from deeper pools that formed in a willowed meadow below. I lost count at a dozen fish; it was nonstop action for more than two hours.

One lucky fish: marks of an ospreys talons

In the willowed meadow, the Fall River is reminiscent of the Fox River in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. It braids in a delightful array of gorgeous riffled channels, undercut banks, and bend pools. Beaver dens are everywhere, and the head-high willows made me a little edgy cutting across a big bend on the way back upstream. This is prime moose country, after all.

Our fishing ended at the precipice of a large waterfall of at least fifty feet in height. This part of the Park is known as Cascade Corner for good reason. It would have taken a good bit of time to navigate around it, and it was time to head back to the car. There is so much more river to explore here (and the famous Bechler River is nearby too). I hope to return, that’s for sure.

Only after the trip did I read the Park’s fishing regulations. This is another river where the harvest of invasive rainbow trout is encouraged in order to help maintain the native species. They sure would have tasted great on the grill back at our campground.

Flower Power

It has been a fantastic year for wildflowers in the Park, their profusion propelled by above-average snowpack last winter. 140% of average snowfall was measured at some USGS stations. Yellowstone lies east of the drought region that has the West Coast in its grip.

 

Grasshopper Bend, June 8th

Yellows, pinks, purples, blues, and whites brushed the landscape everywhere. I wish I could remember their names. Hard as I try, their names leave my consciousness minutes after I hear them. (Strange, I easily remember the names of mayflies and caddis, the aquatic mainstay of a trout’s diet. Priorities perhaps, or finite synapses?)

Roosevelt, July 10th

Elevation change is the second natural feature of Yellowstone that aids this long period of blooms. More than 3,500 feet of elevation separates the lowest point in the travelled parts of the Park (North Entrance) from its highest (Dunraven Pass). The balsamroot (I do remember that one) that adorned the sagebrush slopes of Grasshopper Bend on the Madison River on June 8^th is the same flower that commanded the slopes of Mt. Washburn almost two months later.

 

Lower Madison, June 21st

Being witness to this long succession of blooms is a perk of spending an entire season here. Right place-right time happens more often when you are somewhere for four months rather than one week. 

The most stunning encounter with the Park’s flower power occurred on July 15^th. Ending a weekend spent fishing up on the Lamar, I left Ted’s cabin at Roosevelt right about sunup in order to return to Old Faithful in time for my work shift. Grand Loop Road goes up and around massive Mt. Washburn. There on an east-facing slope of the mountain, I came upon a vast sea of yellow balsamroot in full bloom. It was over a mile long and probably half a mile deep (note the diminutive glint of a single car in the photo, nearly lost in the field of flowers). Countless blossoms tilted in phototropic unison toward the brilliant early morning sun rising in the east. Mother Nature’s solar collector was going full tilt.

 

Mt. Washburn, July 15th

Conifers, king tree in most of Yellowstone, lose their grip in the north of the Park. Trees are the mortal enemy of flowers, their high branches casting shade which denies flowers access to the sun’s energy. That won’t happen on the broad sage covered flanks of Mt. Washburn. Flower power rules there!

Dunraven Pass, July 26th

The Second Season: Fishing for Cutthroat Trout

I think of July and August as the second season of fishing out here. First season is June on the Firehole and Madison Rivers. Third season comes in September/October when the westside rivers cool again and the trout run-up the Madison from Hebgen Lake to spawn.

 

Cutthroat Trout, Yellowstone River

The second season is the time to fish for cutthroat trout in the Park’s Northeast corner.  This is the native trout in Yellowstone country, and its population is in great shape in the Lamar River drainage and the Yellowstone River below the falls.

Aside from the satisfaction of fishing for a native trout, the cutthroat is simply a beautiful fish to behold with olive/copper-colored flanks, rose-hued gillplate, and unique pattern of black spots. Its name comes from the bright orange slash beneath the gills.

In the world of trout fishing, the cutthroat trout is not known for its guile like the brown trout, nor for its fight like the rainbow. While I’ll concede its lack of fight, I find the cutthroat trout can be very selective and a rewarding challenge to fool.

 

Lamar River's cobble-lined banks

Aside from its beauty, one other characteristic that makes this trout so fun to fish for is its rise to a dry fly. In his book about fishing the Yellowstone River, Bob Jacklin describes it as a “deliberate rise.” Unlike the slash-and-grab of rainbow and brown trout, seeing a cutthroat come to the fly is like watching the action in slow motion.  If suspicious of your offering, it will literally put its nose to the fly, pause, then turn away unconvinced. When it does take the fly, it’s an unhurried pirouette back to the bottom.

 Faced with lots of fishing pressure, as is the case nearly everywhere inside Yellowstone Park, the cutthroat gets downright picky. It isn’t too long into the season before the cutthroat trout you encounter will be just as difficult to fool as a brown or rainbow. (As Chris Booth, my fishing buddy, jokes about fishing out here in the summer, trout can probably tell which fly shop you bought that hopper pattern from.)

Just as the cutthroat is a different kind of trout, so is the Lamar is a different kind of river. The valley it runs through is referred to as “American’s Serengeti” for its wildlife and panoramic vistas, but its namesake river is nothing much to look at. Characterized by extremes of flow, it looks close-up like little more than a gravel-lined ditch. Steeply gouged banks and sparse streamside vegetation shows the marks left by the heavy snowmelt that keeps it unfishable from spring snowmelt until early July. But, don’t let its looks deceive you, nor its meander’s long distances between good fishing water. This is a great trout stream. You can have Slough Creek. It’s a pleasant hike to an iconic waters, but it’s overfished and not nearly the room to roam like on the Lamar.

 

Lamar-Soda Butte Creek confluence

Cutthroat trout evolved to thrive in these sparse waters. Unlike rivers such as the Firehole or Madison, a heavy hatch of aquatic insects is rare on the Lamar. On this river, don’t be waiting for the hatch to begin. Yet, despite the apparent lack of aquatic fertility that makes for lots of trout food, there is plenty of insect life to support the Lamar’s thriving trout population. On average, the cutthroat I catch in the Lamar are larger than even the browns I catch in the Madison (fall run-up fish excepted).

Trout in relatively infertile waters like the Lamar learn to be opportunistic feeders. Selectivity here comes from the trout’s response to fishing pressure, I think, not the luxury of keying on lots of the same aquatic insect available as in a heavy hatch.

It is the cutthroat’s opportunistic feeding that the angler can capitalize on. Ask most anglers familiar with the Lamar what trout fly he/she would start with, and chances are the answer will be a grasshopper pattern. To be sure, hoppers become plentiful in Lamar valley with its expansive grass/sagebrush and strong afternoon winds to blow insects into the river. But, when most anglers are all fishing hopper patterns, cutthroat trout quickly learn to be selective.

 

Cutthroat trout, Lamar River

Instead, I have observed how freely Lamar trout take a mayfly. A mayfly on the Lamar, you ask? Yes, mayfly. I experienced this during my 2012 season, and in a future post, I’ll report on my experience already this season.

It is a two hour drive from my dorm getting to the Lamar, so only on weekends do I have time to get up there to fish. Add to that the real difficulty locking-in lodging or a campsite in that part of the Park, and already I know I won’t get to fish for cutthroat trout up often enough this season.

Visiting Glacier National Park

Dateline: July 6, 2014

Heidi and I went to Glacier National Park to celebrate our 40^th anniversary. We spent four days there, dividing our time between Many Glacier Lodge on the east and Lake McDonald Lodge on the west. Both are beautiful log structures built a century ago to promote Rocky Mountain tourism.

Many Glacier Lodge, Glacier National Park

The drive up from Great Falls, Montana is a great road trip. Sparsely settled and nearly treeless, you can see for many miles across the rolling high plains and mesas. Glacier’s mountain range, still snow-covered on its peaks, rises in the distance. One marvels at the history of the 19^th century pioneers encountering this vastness. Our route crossed the Blackfeet Indian Reservation, the tribe known as “lords of the plains”, calling to mind all that great Native American history, both triumphant and tragic, over the course of one thousand years.



Blackfeet Reservation near Browning, Montana

Glacier National Park is majestic and remote, with its towering rocky peaks and far fewer visitors than Yellowstone receives. Water is everywhere from snowmelt runoff, ice melt-blue surging in streams, waterfalls and seeps. A big late season storm on June 19^th had dumped two feet of snow atop Logan Pass at the Continental Divide. Trails were closed there, the drifts astonishing for early July. Kids were snowboarding and skiing on the Fourth of July.

The Going to the Sun Road is every bit as majestic as we had heard. Our simple cameras were incapable of capturing the expanse, shapes, and colors.

Snowdrifts at Logan Pass, July 4th

It is a hiker’s mecca, and we enjoyed two good day hikes. Unlike Yellowstone, where you almost don’t have to get out of your car to see the park’s highlights (both a good and bad thing), Glacier is best experienced on its trails. There are trails of every length and difficulty. Most hikers are day hikers like us, but it’s obvious from gear and outfits that many people are there for serious hikes and climbs.

Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park

You must have blinders on if you come away from Glacier National Park still not believing about climate change, and that it’s manmade. Then-and-now photography of the same glaciers from the same locations graphically depicts their dramatic loss. Interpretive information clearly shows the steep rise in temperature patterns over the course of the same few decades. I resolve to be more aware of my energy usage; and purchase carbon credits to offset our driving and plane trips each year.