Missouri River...

...Better too late than never...

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On a whim (and a couple good reports), I called a guy on my list of folks to float with named Arty, and we were on our way...















All the while dodging antelope that appeared to be in RUT, on the trip up toward Helena...
.....



We arrived in the tiny town of Craig and checked out some local fly shops -(the town) has at least five all within fifty feet of each other - but my favorite was Headhunters; as they seemed most knowledgeable and hooked us up with proven patterns and informed us of 'the short-leash method' guides were using to catch fish.


They also informed us they "had fourteen trips out that day"; so when we got to the Dam, we knew we were in trouble when we spied at least 20 more (boats) a few hundred yards down (just out of frame).


They call it “the Shit Show” and for good reason, as before us were no less than 32 drift boats (I counted) hovering over an area roughly 200 yards long and only 50 yards wide and all seemingly working in a choreographed sequence to catch as many of the fish stacked beneath them by the thousands; and doing so quite well it seemed as double-hookups were spotted all around as 'the bite was clearly on’.



What appeared to the untrained eye to be a seamless group of boaters and anglers all happily getting along and working as a team, was far from it the closer you got to the chaos as slurs' were hurled freely and cursing seemed par for the course.

The guides seemed to have the system down pat, but were also the ones throwing around the most expletives when some interloper who was just trying to enjoy what the Missouri offered; attempted to ‘ease into the pack’ and God forbid got even slightly out of sequence - when he foolishly tried to take a picture of a big fish Arty caught - which meant letting off the oars for more than a few seconds....

"Hey you sorry &%$#@"...!



The shit show pretty much comes down to this – the drift boats would float sometimes a mere ten or at the most twenty feet from each other with anglers on-board casting toward the outer banks and then once they reach a certain tail-out point - get over between the two visible thick mats of weeds, suspended in the middle of the river, and 'row like sons of bitches back upstream' only twenty feet apart - until they reached some invisible point where they let off the oars and drifted back outside ...and the flotilla continued without end for hours at a time.


Without built-in rearview mirrors for the rowers’ seat, and/or constantly turning around so you don’t ram into one another; it’s a cluster&%$# of massive proportions I just couldn’t, and wouldn’t want to get into ever again.

Being from the South I felt obliged to hurl my own share of expletives around as well, complete with threatening life and limb if they wanted to pursue it further on shore, and it was at least nice to know Arty 'had my back' he said (though thankfully no one took us up on the offer).





Because of this I recommend if you ever get an opportunity or invite to do it you turn it down and try a different stretch of river on the Missouri below Craig' or elsewhere in the state maybe. Especially if it’s your first trip up here to Montana, as it has the real potential to turn you off in such a way you never want to come back.

...Or its possible this is exactly what you want when you come up for a float, and if numbers are what your after then “a 60 fish day” on the Missouri might be the just the trip to book (those fellas catching that many didnt seem upset about it at all).


For the most part though, we had the river about to oursleves' once we passed by the chaos just below the Dam. Only problem being the hopper fishing, though it was apparently 'the best they'd had in years up there', was now officially over (and the weeds at this low a flow have now taken over).

Still, as the last frame above shows, there's a whole lot of the Missouri River yet unseen by myself or the new boat; and judging by the looks of the amazing canyon ahead...'one that I will be revisiting again very soon.'


Moe
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My Epic Elk, deer, and monster fish ..."Fail"....

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Day one of my 3 Days off...


I decide to bear hunt in what I know to be "elk country" (first mistake)...


The mountain I must climb...


The 'view' from as far as I'm willing to go, as big and out of shape as I am...


Tight courters in pure Griz Country had me on-edge the whole day, so I was glad to be packing my .270 instead of my bow; which I left back in the truck (mistake number 2)..


...And of course after four hours of stalking through dense underbrush and over rocky terrain with 'my gun at the ready', I grew tired and stopped briefly at an outcropping to rest, take a few pictures, and have drink...Only to look down the trail I'm actually standing on, and see a huge cow elk heading my way...


"%$#@"


At this distance she's at 30 yards and completely unaware I'm in the world..


She's now at 25 steps and wondering what that 'thing' is over there taking snappy pics of her and decides to get the hell out of town before I can take anymore..


Or shoot her with my gun, which I'll admit did cross my mind for a split second or two..





The hike back to the truck wasn't nearly as long as the lonely ride home - empty handed - and cursing myself' the entire way...


...

Day two - and I slept till 3, then decided spontaneously to go back after that big buck on the Boulder (not entirely convinced the first try' was a bad idea afterall) Or that a big muley was neccessary as apposed to just a big buck of any species; given its been four years since I've taken one over a yearold.



Upon arrival (1.5 hours later) though I was surprised to see not one, but three helicopters parked next to a dozen firetrucks "right exactly where I intended to hunt and was not pleased..."


"WTF"?!

A 'prescribed burn' apparently got out of control and required the presence of 200 firefighters from across the state. So after hearing this, I said "%$#@ it!" and hualed ass into 'bear country' to try and slavage another hunt if I could help myself....











I essentially 'road hunted' till dark and the futility of the entire evening began to sink in like the crappy pizza I had on the long ride back home..

End of Day 2 and "Bust number two" as well.

.....

On Day 3 I'd reverted to what I now 'do best'; when I'm not hunting all that well..





I called Tom and we floated from Sheep Mountain to Springdale (below Livingston)...


..And had a blast!


This fish was a bit of a challenge and refused to be netted at one point, wading as we were at the time. The big brown swam into a hole in the undercut bank and with the sediment we'd both stirred up neither of us could still see the fish.
At this point we changed roles and I held tension on Tom's fish (or snag we weren't sure); and he threw the net on shore, removed his hat and vest, and began to 'noodle the big boy out' by hand where it once again ran for 20 feet till I brought it back in and he finally caught his prize.


While I too at one point prior to this had "a big one on", Tom decided it a good time to pull up anchor and move in such a way I had no chance in Hell of catching it. This manuever which threw us into a 180 and was completely unexpected, since we'd just pulled in to an island when I hooked him, now cut off any chance the fish could run downstream or I could climb out and 'play it'.
Instead the boats' position, which was only now a few feet from the fish, forced it to head toward the branch covered bank instead; which of course broke me off in the process.

Tom immediately began apologizing even before the fish got off or I had a chance to curse at him; and has me thinking 'this kid might not be right in the head afterall..?!'

I found the whole thing suspect as a bit of jealousy perhaps with me finally catching a bigger one than him (as I'd witnessed similar attitude when his girlfriend caught one much bigger than either of us have so far); or just plain stupid I'm not sure? But because of this he's on temporary rowing suspension and/or floating at all until further notice..(he just doesn't know it yet).


He did however get a chance to redeem himself when I later "hooked the fish of a lifetime" and screamed it so loud he came running across the island we were on; thinking I 'was being attacked by a bear' (he told me later)..?!





When this massive fish that fought even better than my first, or his fish had, took out 90 feet of line and another twenty into my backing I was at a loss for what kind of monster I'd stuck in too...?
I fought him and regained only 60 feet of line before it was 'a draw' as he gave no indication it would EVER swim back upstream and I didnt want to lose him by unhooking him either. I was by then stuck on a bar and faced with a deep bottomless run between myself and the fish, Tom thankfully waded around 50 feet to net 'the beast' and when he yelled back "its a huge foul hooked whitefish.." I almost cried from the frustration of the last 3 days combined.






















The rest of the trip we caught a dozen more small ones on hoppers and nymphs, but was uneventful otherwise; (except for nearly hitting this old bridge above)..which scared the shit out of me as we got closer looking through the viewfinder!?



...

...And so, after looking at the new schedule, I now have '3 more days off this week'.
What on earth I will choose to do during this time is still up in the air...Should I go back after that cow elk (which of course will never stand in that exact same place ever again), or maybe chase after whitetails, or muleys instead, or rainbows and browns on a big river here in Montana...

Hell, I dont know...we'll see...together I hope...

- Thanks for loggin-in weekly guys...I know there's a couple hundred of you doing so..and appreciate it..

Later


Moe

I should have gone fishing...

..Thats what I told myself only moments after being busted by a doe while bowhunting last night..

I mean sure it was fun to stand there motionless for two straight #@&% hours and not move a muscle, but I could have been fishing instead.

..But nope, I decided to only float one day (picture above and those that follow) and on my second day-off instead I went "bear hunting"... Or that's what I told folks anyway.
Truth is, I just went and checked out the Boulder River for the first time (ever) and fished all of ten minutes and though I did in fact have my gun loaded just in case, to say I was 'hunting' would be a stretch.
Mostly I just cruised around like I often do and "vege'out"....
Not sure thats a word, but you get it...I just turned off my mind and forgot about everything and focused on nothing....


Montana is perfect for that mindset and is why I stick around and now call it home. I dont need to be wasted on drugs or whiskey to get there (anymore); instead it just comes with driving backroads you've never been on, nor likely will ever be on again; and before long your 'lost'...but the kind you know you'll find your way back from.


Either way, I hunted instead of fished, and my random ideas were as futile as my last minute efforts.
I'd spotted by pure chance a monster buck cross a small parcel of 'public land' right at dusk, before it entered another massive piece of 'private' and thought "I could maybe cut him off if I timed it right..."?!





This discovery took place on my way back from the Boulder, and had the younger buck travelling with him not stopped directly in front of my truck, I'd have never seen "the monster" in the first place (an easy 140 class whitetail) that is who was waiting for his pal just off the side of the embankment...





...So I couldn't sleep all that night, and when my ealry-shift at the fly shop ended at 3PM I hopped in my truck and hightailed it back toward the Boulder (a 1.5 hour commute) on the brief chance those same two bucks 'might just take that same path the very next day...'


...and instead was met with a big momma doe traveling with her fawn along the same exact route instead, and she promptly stood mere feet from me and snorted for ten or fifteen minutes till I finally waved my hat at her so she'd "buzz off and go away.."!






..........





No biggie really, since I'm still near dead set on 'a big muley' since moving here; and while that whitetail buck was huge, he wasnt near as big as this fella (above).
Unfortunately he too spends most of his time on private land, so we'll see whether its' fishing I choose for the next few days off, or hunting, or a bit of both...


Moe