Big Trout on the Bighorn River by Beau Beasley
The plane bumped and rumbled down the runway, screaming to a halt at Billings Airport in Montana. I viewed with surprise the banks of snow on the ground outside my window. After all, it was the middle of May, and the temperature had been 70 degrees when I had left Washington, DC, that morning. Looking every bit the greenhorn traveler, I scanned the gate for the gentleman who would drive me to the Bighorn River Lodge in Fort Smith. Charlie Knapp, who runs a shuttle service from the airport to the lodge, took in my T-shirt and shorts and flashed me a knowing smile. “Welcome to Montana,” he said simply, and whisked me into his van for the 90-minute drive to the lodge.
Welcome to Montana
I had always wanted to fish Montana—and this was my chance. As we turned out of the airport onto the highway, I noticed dark, ominous clouds looming on the horizon. Snow began to fall slowly as we drove, and within 15 minutes I could barely see the road in front of us. The wind whipped the snow toward us, creating the illusion that it was snowing sideways and rocking the van a little from side to side. Charlie looked out at the clouds and said, “That, my friend, is a snow squall,” assuring me that such sudden storms were common in Montana. We stopped for gas, and by the time that I returned to the van from the restroom, the snow had stopped and a brilliant sun shone over the valley. I found it hard to believe that it had been snowing like mad only moments before. Charlie looked at me, smiled another cryptic smile, and said again, “Welcome to Montana!”
Holy Land, Big River
The Indian Nations thought that this land was holy, and now that I have seen it for myself, I think that I understand why. Montana is a mystical place. The Bighorn River runs gracefully back and forth across the plains, flanked by small bluffs and scrub brush. Antelope and pheasants grace the open fields and dirt roads that guides use to move their drift boats. The area is quiet, and the landscape hasn’t changed much in a century. Small towns like Fort Smith have popped up over the years, but much of the Bighorn River region remains unspoiled by the hand of man.
Here in Montana, we find a case in which a dam has actually helped a river. Before the creation of Yellowtail Dam near Fort Smith, Montana, the Bighorn River—which is essentially an enormous spring creek—was not much more than a big ditch. Today the dam controls the water flow and ensures a constant supply of cold water, keeping both fish and eager anglers happy.
The Bighorn, the largest tributary of the Yellowstone River, runs from Wyoming through much of the “Big Sky” state. Although it does not offer the sweeping vistas that many other Montana rivers enjoy, Bighorn fishing more than makes up for this shortfall. The river is fishable from March through December and has a very healthy population of brown and rainbow trout. The crystal clear Bighorn is so healthy that its resident fish can grow an incredible two to three inches in a single month during the summer. The Bighorn holds no hatchery fish, and yet its trout population exceeds 6,000 fish per mile.
A Lodge For All Anglers
In 1990, Phil and Patty Gonzalez turned their dream of an upscale lodge on the banks of the Bighorn River into a reality. The Bighorn River Lodge sits less than a stone’s throw from the river, sleeps up to eight guests at a time, and caters to fly fishers only. Moreover, it’s the only lodge with private access to the upper section of the Bighorn River.
As one of 16 children, Phil Gonzalez knows a lot about family. With a family philosophy in mind, Phil designed his lodge to be “a place where anyone could come and have a great time.” Inclined ramps make every floor accessible by wheelchair. “Special-needs clients fish with us regularly,” said Gonzalez. “If you’re the adventurous type, we can actually strap your wheelchair to our drift boat and float you down the river.” If that’s slightly more excitement than you had in mind for your fly fishing vacation, then you can fish for 10-pound trout off the wheelchair-accessible dock that leads to a five-acre pond behind the lodge. Phil has even guided blind clients who have fished the river successfully.
Over a cup of coffee and a meal fit for a king, I met one of my fellow guests: Curt Dickerson, Vice President of Business Development for Cochran, a Seattle-based electrical design and construction company. Dickerson had been to the Bighorn River Lodge twice before and enjoyed bringing his clients along as well. “We love the atmosphere here,” he said, sipping a cup of piping hot coffee, “and the fishing can’t be beat.”
Shadows on the River
Although the river runs right by the lodge, my guide, Chad Pavlick, suggested that we drive up-river and put in just below the Yellowtail Dam. We launched our boat, and within a matter of minutes I noticed shadows along the bottom of the river. They looked like football-sized rocks, but I knew that these were the healthy Bighorn fish I had heard so much about. Pavlick handed me a rod, and I cast toward the shadows. And waited.
The Bighorn is much larger than the East Coast rivers to which I am accustomed, and initially I found it intimidating. We started off with 5-weight rods with indicators along with sow bugs and black-headed RS 2’s. This should be a cinch, I thought to myself. I’m using an indicator, and these fish are easily 14 inches long. These fish were no pushovers. I spent almost half the morning waiting to land my first fish. Eventually, I learned how the fish took our subsurface flies—and after that, every fish I landed was over 15 inches long.
Later in the day, we rounded a curve in the river and Pavlick nodded to a large eddy where the river doubled back on itself--a great place for fish to hang out. He moved the drift boat into position, and I made one cast after another toward the eddy. In seven drifts, I landed five trout--all 16 inches or better. “This is too easy,” Pavlick said. “It’s almost time for the surface action to start,” he continued, and we headed down river.
Send in the Clouds
“It won’t be long now,” said Pavlick, “before the surface feeding starts.” I looked at my watch. It was nearly 1:30 pm on a warm, bright, cloudless day. I thought to myself, What trout in his right mind would start surface feeding now? Around 2, Pavlick commented that the surface fishing was a little off because the clouds were late. “They usually roll in by now.” I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud. I’ve heard a lot of fish tales, I thought to myself, but this is the first guide who has tried to convince me that the weather is on a timer and that the midday surface fishing is the best.
Within 30 minutes, the wind had kicked up and thick, fluffy clouds had begun to roll in. I could feel an almost immediate drop in ambient temperature. And then I watched as the unbelievable happened: One small dimple on the water’s surface turned into another, and then into a chorus of slurps and splashes. We could see dozens of feeding trout in the quiet shallows. “This is Bighorn River dry fly fishing at its best,” Pavlick announced with pride. And I can tell you from experience that he didn’t overstate the case.
I caught trout after trout that day, and my conversations with Pavlick ranged from fishing to life on the wild frontier. As we floated down the Bighorn River, I saw in my mind’s American Indians atop their horses, looking down at us warily from the bluffs. The wind howled strangely as we slid the drift boat over the gravel bar that marked the boat launch at the end of our journey. I watched the breathtaking sunset in awe. I had arrived in Montana a greenhorn wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but I would leave Big Sky country with some great angling experiences and a profound sense of respect for those whose lives were spent on this wild frontier.
Beau Beasley is the Conservation Outreach Officer for the Virginia Fly Fishing Festival and a regular contributor to Fly Fish America. He lives in Warrenton, Virginia and can be reached at beau@beaubeasley.com
Copyright ©2008 Beau Beasley
Copyright ©2007 Beau Beasley