Yellowstone -Day One

Fresh off the excitement of fishing the Big Horn River we loaded into the rental car and it was off to our new home for the next five nights just outside the Northeastern entrance to Yellowstone.  The three hour drive from Fort Smith to Yellowstone was capped off by our journey over the Bear Tooth Pass.  This stretch of road was like none I had been on before.  The elevation goes from 5500 in the city of Red Lodge to nearly 11,000 feet.  The views from the top of the mountain are reminiscent of the deep valleys carved in the Alps.  The Smoky Mountains have been worn by the elements and time and while our lush green mountains burst forth with life, it is easy to see that life along this portion of the Bear Tooth Pass is difficult, and yet some animals thrive here.  We topped the mountain to find a beautiful herd of snow white mountain goats grazing. A wise man once said “the will to live is a powerful thing.”  I am certain he is right.

            We passed through Cooke City and made our way to Silver Gate to check into our cabin.  I would estimate Silver Gate to be a town of roughly 15 buildings if cabins were not included.  Upon check in we were greeted by Doug.  Doug wasn’t exactly mister personality and seemed to be to be a curmudgeon of sorts.  His answers were short and to the point and we had only just met before his deep raspy voice uttered a warning “There is a bull Bison feeding on the grass in front of your cabin and he commands the utmost respect.”  While I appreciated the warning, the three of us had no plans to slap it on the butt and run, but Doug’s warning did serve as a reminder that this wonderful place is full of beautiful and dangerous animals and they all must be respected.

            We unloaded our gear and settled in for the night.  When morning came we packed a lunch and head out.  We decided to start the day off by fishing the confluence of the Lamar River and Slough Creek.  We parked the car and headed out across a field and over some bluffs to where we anticipated the river to be.  I scanned the horizon for wildlife and more specifically bear, but found nothing stirring.  We made our way down a steep bank to an entry point and the beautiful and fabled Lamar River lay in front of us.  I once again scanned the horizon to make sure we were alone and we began to fish.  This portion of the river was rocky and the large boulders offered perfect pools for the trout to thrive.  Our plan was to work our way up the Slough Creek, but we noticed some other anglers down stream that appeared to be heading there as well, so we decided to remain on the Lamar.  We stopped to fish a couple of spots and with lightening speed the other anglers bolted past us and settled in to the area Garret had intended to fish.   Let me take brief moment to explain proper etiquette in this situation.  Since most fly fishermen work their way upstream the proper thing to have done would be to by pass us as we fished and allow at least a couple hundred yards between us.  We surmised that one of the individuals was a guide and I suppose when you are fishing for your rent etiquette goes out the window.  Needless to say the fishing was slow because the anglers ahead of us were either catching the fish from the prime spots or spooking the fish that were there.  Jim and Garret both managed to catch a few fish but not in numbers any of us expected from such a legendary river.

            We reached a location that seemed like an ideal spot to stop for a protein bar and some water.  In front of us was a large pool that seemed the perfect location to hold large Cutthroat Trout.  We noticed that the guide and his two followers had exited the water and were heading towards the car as the sun began to hang low.  I was fishing a small pool about 100 years ahead of our resting spot when I noticed a gathering of insects in the air.  They appeared to be Caddis, so I quickly tied on a Caddis fly and cast into the seams I assumed the trout would be. I had only cast a few times when Garret and Jim called for me to come back.  As quickly as possible I made my way back to the large pool they were working. Garret yelled to me “Switch to a Blue Wing Olive.”  I made it back to where they were fishing to see the water alive with feeding trout.  I looked through my fly box but I didn’t have any Blue Wing Olives.  This was my best opportunity to catch my first Cutthroat Trout and I didn’t even have the fly they were feeding on. 

I suppose my excitement showed through because it was then that Jim’s nature as a true gentleman showed through.  “I have a Blue Wing Olive you can have and I already have one tied on, here, take my pole and I will tie one on your line while you fish my pole.”  This simple act tells you all you need to know about Jim.  I took Jim’s pole and waded into a good casting location.  The fly hit the water, the line went tight, and the fight began.  I netted the fish and was surprised to see a Rainbow Trout instead of the revered Cutthroat.  At this point Jim had tied the Blue Wing Olive on my line so I gave his pole back and continued to fish with my pole.  I cast into the feeding frenzy again and within the third or fourth cast I had another fish on.  This fish was larger than the Rainbow I had just netted but I wasn’t sure of the species.  I fought the fish and after it weaved from one side of the pool to the next he grew tired and was ready for the calm of my net.  I had traveled nearly 1900 to be here and at dusk on the fifth day of this wonderful adventure I finally netted my first Cutthroat Trout.  It was a large and beautiful fish and I was as excited as a school boy with my catch, but there was little time to celebrate because the fish were still feeding.  I took a few pictures, watched as my first Cutthroat swam from the grips of my hand back into the pool and with that I was ready for more.  We continued to fish the pool until the hatch ended and we all had success. 

The sun broke the horizon greeting a day full of promise.  The three anglers in front of us, and the disappointment of reeling in no fish during the morning and mid day hours was now gone.  I took five fish from the pool we were in and witnessed the type of hatch and feeding I had previously only read about.  As the sun relinquished its grip on the day and began to set, a Wolf stood over a bluff and looked down on us as though he were the gate keeper for this beautiful land.  The land around us changed colors as the sun made its retreat and the page was closed on the most exciting day of fly fishing I’ve ever had.

            Later that evening as Garret and Jim sat around the table sorting and arranging their flies in each box like a miser counting his riches, my mind was still on the water recapping the extraordinary day.  It was now easy for me to see why Garret and Jim make a fly fishing trip each year.  This year marks the ninth trip for them.  Breathe taking scenery, prolific hatches, and pulling several fish from one hole have been a normal part of the adventure.  I had many people ask me prior to the trip if I would grow weary of fishing everyday and spending eight days with the same two guys.  I can’t speak for Garret and Jim, but for me it was a nice reprieve from the real world.  This trip wasn’t about Old Faithful and the other tourist spots Yellowstone has to offer.  Fishing with two guys allowed me and at time forced me to step outside my comfort zone and experience the park.  A majority of the visitors never get more than 100 yards away from their car and call this “seeing” the park.  Today I was lucky enough to be part of the park and it’s a day I will not soon forget.