The Great Salmon Fly Hunt of 2008

Photo courtesy of Jazz Hands

Ah, the salmon fly. Those lovable, hug-able, stupid, giant bugs that fatten trout and drive anglers insane (with joy or frustration). With all the snowfall that Montana received last winter, we were initially concerned that our target rivers would be blown out. As our trip neared, concern turned to optimism and then to worry. The rivers were starting to fish well, but the salmon flies were already hatching. Would we get there in time? Could we find the hatch? Would the fish be gorged already? As we learned, the answers to those questions would be, kinda, not really and who the fuck knows.


Dates: July 11-17, 2008
Location: Gallatin & Madison
Air temp: 80s
Water temp: ???
Hatches: shit loads of caddis and some salmon flies


Present members of the Fly Anglers Guild :|: Upper Midwest Chapter, for this outing were:

Jazz Hands
B-Chubnut
Quickdraw
Xan


Jazzy and Chubnut were the first to arrive on Friday. With some time to kill before QD and I would arrive, they hit a familiar spot on the Gallatin. Unfortunately, this area was still blown out and the fishing was poor. They picked us up from the airport, and we made our way to the motel to taunt Jazz Hands over Brett Favre's recent drama. Evidently, he inhaled too much of Chubnut's anal sulfuric discharges, as he was a basket case all night.

Photo courtesy of Quickdraw

The Madison - The Agony

Photo courtesy of B-Chubnut

The next day, we traveled to the Madison to find these damn salmon flies. Over the next three and a half days, we made our way up and down the upper Mad trying to find our Mecca. A humble philosopher might say we had already found our Mecca, by being in the beautiful state of Montana, united as friends, but that philosopher can suck my ball sack. Water levels were good, the salmon flies were around, caddis were everywhere, and we wanted fish flying out of the water with insects falling out of their gills. But, it was simply not to be. Try as we might, dry fly activity was scant, even with thousands of bugs all over the water.

Photo courtesy of B-Chubnut

We gritted it out, casting nymphs by day, streamers at night, negotiating the hordes of fellow anglers, catching our fish here and there, with a whole lot of nothing in between.

Photo courtesy of B-Chubnut

Photo courtesy of Jazz Hands

Photo courtesy of Jazz Hands

Photo courtesy of Jazz Hands

Photo courtesy of Jazz Hands

As Tuesday arrived, we gave it one last shot, before returning to Bozeman and calling an end to our Mad River adventure.

Photo courtesy of Jazz Hands

The Gallatin - The Ecstasy

We dropped off QD at the airport and had a few hours to kill before Jazzy had to leave. We went back to our familiar Gallatin spot to find the river still blown out. Fortunately, there are two channels at this spot, the main branch and a side branch, which in turn has what looks like an irrigation canal. The side branch was fairly normal in terms of flows, and Chubbers and Jazz landed some decent trout. When it was time, we took Jazz Hands to the airport and then came back, where I was able to land a few as well.

The next morning, Chubnut and I hit up a fly shop at Four Corners for some flies and advice. We were told that the Gal was flowing well and wade-able up by Big Sky. We fired up the Kia and made our way there. Neither of us had ever fished this area, and we did some scouting before selecting a spot to start our fishing.

Photo courtesy of B-Chubnut

What commenced was a full session of catching fish all day long. We were interrupted by a thunderstorm, at which time we ate some salami sandwiches and drank some beer. When we resumed, the fishing was a bit slower, but still productive. We didn't catch anything huge, but a few nice fish were brought to hand amongst the scads of bows. After days of struggling for fish amidst massive crowds on big water, we had a stretch of river all to ourselves, with every fishy run producing. We fished to exhaustion, and called it a day and trip.

Photo courtesy of B-Chubnut

The next morning, I dropped Chubnut at the airport and went back to our familiar Gal spot for the White Bite. I landed a few trout, a few whitefish, and that was that. I boarded the plane sweaty, exhausted, sore, and content, and I didn't even have to visit an airport bathroom stall. That's what Montana is all about.

Photo courtesy of B-Chubnut

Silent Night

Date: July 5, 2008
Location: New spot, Bridge & Lawn
Air temp: 70s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: 1 brook

Present members of the Fly Anglers Guild :|: Upper Midwest Chapter, for this outing were:

Booter
Xan
Scooter


Needing a healthy restocking of flies, I headed out to Lunds late on Saturday afternoon. After dropping a healthy amount of dough on a wide assortment of dollar flies, I decided to check out a spot high up on the Curd. QD, Timbo and I had driven here once, but did not explore the area as the river was high and muddy. Now, it was slow and clear, so I set up and headed upstream. The river was mostly wide and slow. The few riffles I saw were quite shallow, though I did scare some fish here and there. After a ways, I headed back and went downstream from the bridge to find more of the same. I tried fishing one riffle, but didn't get any strikes.

Having some more time to kill before Booter and Scooter would join me for some night fishing, I went down to the EPB&G spot to see if I could get some casts into my favorite run. Alas, the area was crawling with fishermen, so I got back into the car and headed to our rendezvous area, the Bridge Spot. The sun was setting behind the bluff, and I made a quick nymph run along QD's favorite spot. There were fish rising here and there, but I was too lazy to tie on a dry, and found no interest in my copper John.

Walking back to my car to get my headlamp, Boot and Scoot pulled in, and we had a beer. After finishing our round, we hit the river as the last bits of sunlight faded into night. I was able to pull a small brookie on a hex dry before I could no longer see my fly on the water. Now, it was mousing time. The absence of moonlight made the fishing even more difficult, and the action was slow. Perhaps the uneven barometric pressure or lack of moon had some effect, as the hits were few and far between for all three of us.

After fishing around the bend from QD's spot, we headed to the Lawn, where we fished two areas. More of the same. Tired, we called it a night and headed back home.