West '05 Trip - Day 10

Posted: 2006-02-22
By: Randy Cochran

Ice cold air penetrated every layer I had on, waking me up well before I felt it necessary to start out. Sleeping in the car had become very inconvenient. Somehow the hostile temps had diminished my normal zeal to get at things ASAP.

No matter. A few more layers added to existing ones and I was good to go.

I started fishing up top near a confluence of forks. By the look of the bridge, it was readily apparent that the landowner was trying to make accessing the water into a difficult feat. Regardless, there was enough space to enter legally for a few minutes fishing just upstream.

A cutt and a couple whitefish quickly came to net before I headed back down to try the water near last night's campsite.

Coming across a very nice hole, it was all I could do to keep the fly out of a whitey's mouth. Finally a cutt and a brown broke that monotony. I had begun to get a little worried at that point. Where was this Rock Creek that everyone gushed over? I had sampled it the night before, but this day was a different story.

I fished along for a bit before noticing an older gent up above on the bridge, watching me as I cast across fairly fishy looking water. I returned my fly to the hook keeper and walked up to chat.

It turned out that this man had lived on Rock Creek for 25 years before moving out of state. After telling me this, he proceded to discuss the 'glory days' of years' past, when stocking was the rule, and all of the wildlife he had been privy to viewing over the course of his time there.

Shortly after that I got back to fishing, and he stayed around to watch a bit longer. On top of the bridge during our chat we had both spied a very large cutt or bow chasing various fish around the deeper parts of the hole. I tried everything to no avail.

A few casts later and I was into a good sized fish that jumped 2 feet into the air while throwing the fly from its mouth. I couldn't tell what species it was, but it looked a lot like a brown from the coloration that I did see.

People arrived in wave after wave that early afternoon, so I left for more unassuming waters to ply.

Quite a few fish had been landed before I broke off on a submerged limb. It was really just a matter of time... the reason so many fish were there in the first place was due to the water depth and speed and the abundance of cover, and you really have to go where the fish are if you want to tango.

I was up near the roadside, tying on a fly away from the stream to avoid spooking the hole, when I noticed something large walking on the gravel well up the road. It was my friend from the night before, the moose! I didn't have my camera on me then, so I waited till the beast looked away and ninja'd it over to my car. Using my car to shield me from view, I was able to get in and get my camera to snap some pics. Soon after that he was off into the woods.

A shot rang out, ticking a limb on a tree overhead. I hope it was just a warning shot to my buddy, but I didn't really care to stick around and find out.

On my way up and out of the canyon I happened upon what appeared to be deer standing in the road. Only after readying my camera, inching forward and taking pic after pic after pic, did I get close enough to see that they were Bighorn Sheep. About 6 or 7 of them, standing there, licking the road, looking up every so often at me. I thought they would run, yet I got to within 40 feet or less in 5 or 10 minutes of sitting and watching, snapping all the while. Only when a truck approached from a spur that I was blocking did they scramble up the talus slope. They did not bound up the hillside, but rather fortunately (for me, anyway) just stood there, and as I drove by they were less than 25 feet from me, resulting in some of the best pictures I have ever taken.

On the way over to Anaconda, I was planning a quick stop at Georgetown Lake, but the winds had kicked up, resulting in 3 ft. whitecaps rolling across the surface.

I was nearly down the hill leading into Anaconda when a bull moose charged across the road about 500 feet ahead, slow enough to get a good long look but too fast to get a picture.

After gassing up and restocking my food supplies I drove over to the Big Hole River and camped that night on its grassy banks. And finally I had the good sense to forego the car in favor of the tent.