Montana

South Fork Pt. 2: We Went Fishing

July 22, 2018 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

We awoke at our borrowed cabin space and prepared a quick breakfast using some of the supplies on hand. We patiently waited to see if our pack train would arrive, and it seemed as though all hope had been lost when we saw them in the distance trudging forward. While they’re lack of timeliness and propensity to elicit anxiety consumed us all night, the pure elation of their arrival quickly diminished all of our previous contention.

Better Late than Never

Morning Breakfast

We bandaged up the feet of those who were exhibiting the wounds of the day before and prepared for the short 5 mile jaunt to the waters edge. One among us needed no such bandages, and his secret was his old golf shoes.

Elite Footwear

The trip from this point forward wasn’t about hiking, it was about fishing, and for the next few days we did a lot of fishing.

Parachute Adams

Magic Hour

Beer Break

Lots of These

Fish Food

Fishing From the Gear Boat

Westslope Cutt

Obligatory Hero Shot

Captain Whitey

More Magic Hour

Fumble

The evenings were filled with food and drink, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains. A place without a road for 60 miles in any direction gives you an odd sense of freedom, and we cherished every moment of it. We would eventually stop at the Big Prairie Ranger Station and begin the second half of our journey. The small stream we were floating down would soon turn into a real river, and with it came people that we had come to forget the first few days. The upper section of the trip will occupy a special place in the minds of everyone, and will be the reason for a return. Our final camp on the upper half other river was poetic, a large beach on a dramatic bend of the river. The night was filled with laughter and alcohol, the only surviving memory a grainy photograph of all of us together. Just as it should be.

Home for the Night

A Night to Remember

South Fork Pt. 1: The Death Ray

July 17, 2018 by n.taylor Leave a Comment

We were all warned of the death ray. Not by the outfitter packing in our gear, not by those that had come before us, but by one of our own.

He knew of its powers, and urged us to leave early on our supposed 18 mile journey that morning. We left early, but perhaps not early enough.

18 Miles?

We began in the forest, hidden from the death ray and it’s powers, unsuspecting of what lay in front of us. Soon after the summit of Pyramid Pass we found what would eventually become known as “The Valley of 1000 Souls”. The area was devastated by the Rice Ridge fire last year, and its destruction was awesome in its scope. For over 13 miles we walked through a barren wasteland covered in several inches of ash. If I were planning on going to the moon, this is where I would be training.

The Death Ray Emerges

A Final Look Back

Valley of 1000 Souls

Go America

There were moments of elation in the valley of 1000 souls, for one, the Morel mushrooms were the largest I had ever seen and we did have several water crossings that allowed us to cool our dying bodies.

Morel Mushroom

Rest and Relaxation

So let me lay this out for you. We walked a total of about 23 miles that day, arriving at the pre determined location around 6pm expecting to see our mule train shortly. We had waited several hours at a creek crossing hoping to run into our pack train. We were told not to take any clothes, to leave our sleeping gear and extras with them because “they would pass us on the trail”. So its getting later and later, no mules, and mutiny starts encircling our crew. We had dressed light for the trek, and wisely so. However, as the sun began to set, the reality that they wouldn’t show up was starting to descend upon us all.

An overview of the assets in posession:
1. 2 fishing rods
2. 10 flies
3. 3 handguns
4. Young’s Creek
5. A forest service cabin

We dispatched some of our party to hit magic hour on Young’s Creek and catch some dinner, the rest of us gathered some water and examined the forest service cabin. While the door was locked tight and reinforced to resist entrance by large critters, our federal workers were gracious enough to forget to lock the bear proof window.

Hahn’s Creek Cabin

Entry Point

Send Me the Bill

Welcome Home

Great Success

We cooked the fish and the Morel’s we had picked earlier in the day, hoping the mules would walk up any minute. As the sun set we gathered around the fire, and gradually started filing into the cabin through the window. Some of us held out hope that the packer would arrive at some point during the night, and stood watch until all hope had been lost around 2:30am. Eventually we all shared the bunk beds and the floor to escape the bugs and the biting cold of July in the rockies.

A Final Holdout

We eventually all got some sleep, eager to learn if our packer would ever show up, and what stories he would have to tell us.

Because You Don’t Always Need Fish

August 10, 2015 by n.taylor 1 Comment

A trip to the promised land requires fish in front of the lens right? Usually yes, but as it turns out we failed to acquire any of those photos. Regardless of what many would perceive to be a failure perhaps the evidence presented here will convince you otherwise.

Second to Only One

Western Montana has secretly always had great local brews. For years selections such as “Moose Drool” and “Trout Slayer” garnered a few laughs and surprising taste to travelers through the region. While in existence since the mid 90’s Kettlehouse Brewing in Missoula has been brewing what has become my favorite local beer for the past several years. Named after the wicked pow pow that falls in the mountains this beer sets the tone regardless of what recreational adventures you get yourself into.

Cold Smoke

When making pulled pork it may be necessary to purchase several growlers in order to quench your thirst throughout the cook.

Mustard and Green Chili Rub

Two growlers and 18 hours later the dinner was complete.

Finished Pork

There was only a few hours left for fishing, which took me to my favorite river. While fish were caught none were recorded, in part because sometimes you just don’t feel like pulling out the camera. Particularly when you have to scale up and down a canyon.

The River Below

The river was cold and clear, and the fish waited until mid afternoon before emerging from the depths to ant imitations and large stimulators.

Waiting for the Water To Warm

The fish were lying in their obvious holes, behind rocks and in foam feeding lanes. If you waited patiently occasionally their camouflage would betray them, and you would see them moving into position to grab an easy meal.

Where the Fish Hide

With only a few hours of fishing one might ask what you would spend the rest of your time doing. It turns out there are better days than the days you spend fishing.

Better Than Fishing