March 26th, Tuesday.
60+ degrees. CFS doubled from 250 to 500 overnight. Tea colored water with loads of debris floating down. Never a great sign for fishing.
Began with a skwala but had no takers. Nymphing wasn’t effective either. Coaxed two and missed two on a streamer. The highlight of the day was watching two mink play chase on the bank, and again feeling the warmth of the sun after a Montana winter.
March 9th, Sunday.
In town mission with Finn. Another short on, from dusk to dark.
The current is heavy and swirling in a pool I am familiar with. The water is up. A clean drift in front of the fish is difficult, so I move down toward the bottom of the pool in a effort to get a clean, drag free drift more than a couple feet.
Finn sticks a nice trout above me. Eventually my indicator dives, and I feel the pull of a heavy fish.
March 8th, 2025. Saturday.
Nate and I desired a walk, so I headed north from Hamilton and he headed south from Missoula. We met in the middle and wandered the banks a whole lot more than we actually fished. The fish are touchy. We miss and lose multiple trout and stick a three over the course of a few fours
. The adventure was grand. A warmth from the sun we haven’t felt in months. Discovery abound, from flies, to raptors, to a deer skull with five point rack intact, to a mellow momma moose.
March 5th, 2025. Wednesday.
Sep and I embark on our 135th month in a row fishing. We head toward Darby. He’s fishing his 16 foot telescoping rod, Ren’s Reach, that was gifted to him by his neighbor. That’s a story for another time. I am throwing a 10 foot four weight fly rod. We both begin with a rubber leg jig and a small bead. Eventually I switched to an orange beaded Pat’s Rubber Leg and a pink frenchie. All flies courtesy of Nathan Paul. We stick fish for a couple hours: four trout, two whitefish, and a few fish lost. Glorious. ~ Bryan
March 2nd, 2025. Sunday night.
Around 5:00 Finn asks, “Want to fish, Dad?” Sun is waning. Time is short. The answer is yes. He’s logging as many species of fish as he can for his capstone project. Brilliant. Forced to fish. We fished right in town. Green jig head rubber leg and a small copper john like bead. Two Cuts from 6:30 to dark. What sticks out most, is that the kid is 17, and my fishing buddy of 14 years will be moving on, and the trips will become far and few between. ~Bryan
