August 6, 2020
This June a couple of friends and I set out on a road trip that would take us through thousands of miles of country, national parks and monuments, campsites, and trout streams. Our destination was Glacier National Park, located in northwest Montana. Glacier is said to be the “Crown of the Continent;” spanning over a million acres. Rugged, glacier-capped mountains, alpine lakes, expansive forests, and swift frigid streams are just some of its features. Even though the park is over 1600 miles away, we were determined to make the trek to experience the beauty of the park first-hand. My friends and I enjoy camping off the beaten path, so we planned on camping a couple of different spots on the drive up.
Badlands
We set out from St. Louis as the sun was rising on a Sunday morning. Our destination for the day was the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. We made good time on the road, eating packed lunches and only stopping to refill the gas tank. The plan was to knock this stretch of road out quickly, since we knew it wasn’t as scenic as the rest. We arrived at the park gate around 5:30, after a brief detour to the infamous Wall Drug. Upon entering the park, we quickly spotted prairie dogs, bison, and a couple bighorn sheep.
The Badlands were unique in that one moment you are driving through the same hilly grassland you’ve been in for hours, then you come over the crest of a hill and are met with a breathtaking view of the hundreds of pinnacles and rock formations that make up the Badlands. It was like nothing I’d seen before. It was hot, but the dry, gusting wind masked some of the heat. We drove around to a couple different overlooks and took lots of pictures. It’s a difficult place to describe, because it’s just so different. As the sun began to dip underneath the pinnacles, we drove down to the Deer Haven parking lot. This is a common launch point for backcountry campers and hikers. We quickly packed our backpacks with camping gear and set out on an unofficial trail.
As long as you are a half-mile from a road or official trail, you can camp anywhere in the park. We picked a great spot just off the path and watched the sun set as we set up our tents. We had to be careful to avoid the numerous cacti hidden in the grass. Once the sun went down, we sat on a rocky outcropping for a while. The weather at night was pleasant, much cooler with only a gentle breeze.
I went to bed pretty early, but awoke around 2:00 to see the most striking night sky I have ever seen. I don’t know much about astronomy, but there were bands of stars lining the entire horizon, more than I had ever seen before. In the brief time that I was awake I saw several shooting stars. We woke up about 30 minutes before sunrise and broke camp, careful to leave no trace. We flushed a Short-Eared Owl on the short hike out. The Badlands were truly a remarkable place, and I hope to be back soon.
The Black Hills
We had a busy agenda the next day, with several stops planned as well as lots of ground to cover. First up was Mount Rushmore. As we entered the Black Hills of South Dakota, I was struck by the stark contrast in landscape. Within about 90 minutes, we went from the dramatic landscape of the Badlands, through grassland, and finally into a semi-mountainous region complete with dense forest and exposed rock. We beat most of the crowd to Mount Rushmore that morning. They were doing construction, so you couldn’t get as close and you usually can. It was cool to see and the history behind it was interesting to learn about, but physically it was pretty underwhelming. It just wasn’t very big. However, it was a good sight to check off our list.
We quickly got back on the road and drove to a popular local swimming hole to clean the dust from the Badlands off. After a short but challenging hike down into a canyon, we found the hole and jumped in. The water was frigid, but it was nice to get cleaned up. Then we climbed back out and ate ham sandwiches in the bed of the truck while admiring the view. The Black Hills are a fascinating region that I would love to explore again someday.
Montana bound, sort of
We still had lots of ground to cover, but we were making good time. We decided to detour off I-90 in northeastern Wyoming to see Devils Tower. I don’t know much about it, but it was a really neat sight, rising over a thousand feet out of relatively flat prairie. I wouldn’t call it a destination unless you are a climber, but it was definitely worth the detour.
Once we got back on the highway we decided to drive straight to our campsite for the night, located on the Bighorn River. Knowing that we wanted to get an early start fishing, we settled on a car camping spot despite our preference for backpacking. We arrived at a campsite on Bighorn Lake just above the dam around 7:00. As we were setting up camp, one of my friends sighted a couple dark splotches walking alongside the far side of the lake. We walked down to the water, and identified them as a mother bear and her cub. I had never seen a bear before so this was very exciting to me. Although I would have rather seen one somewhere other than from our campsite. We stayed up a while after dark and walked alongside the lake before settling in for the night.
Fishing, finally
I was up by first light the next morning. Me and a friend were going to fly-fish the Bighorn River for a couple hours. Meanwhile our other two friends were catching up on sleep. The Bighorn is a famous tailwater fishery, and has a reputation for large rainbow and brown trout. It also has a reputation for being tricky for the first-timer, as well as challenging to fish from shore. Unfortunately, our trip fell during the height of runoff season and therefore most other rivers were blown out. Because of this, we decided to fish the Bighorn.
Bighorn River
The Bighorn was running relatively low and clear when we arrived at the three mile access point. I tied on a tandem nymph rig with a #14 Pheasant-Tail Nymph and a red San Juan worm. Next, I attached an indicator about four feet above the top fly. I waded out into the first downstream riffle and began casting. Soon it became clear that the double rig was not going to be effective here because of the abundance of floating moss. I slimmed down my rig to 6x tippet, took off the worm, and put a lighter indicator higher up the line. This still caught moss, but there were fewer points on the line to get dirty. The lighter tippet also cut through the current better. I was still having no luck in the riffle, and I was losing confidence.
I worked my way to the tail end of the riffle where the channel began to shift. After I took several steps downstream to reach new water, I had a hard hit at the very end of my first drift. In my excitement, I set the hook straight upstream and pulled the nymph out of the trout’s mouth. This was frustrating, but also encouraging. After taking a couple more steps downstream to better reach the spot where I missed the strike. I took a moment to compose myself and began making drifts, drilling it in my head to set the hook downstream at the slightest tick of the indicator. After a couple drifts, I got an identical hard strike in the same spot. This time I was able to set the hook correctly.
The fish barely moved on the hookset, which often indicates a large fish, but I figured it was an average fish staying down in the current until it bee-lined upstream and leaped over two feet in the air. It was undoubtedly the largest wild Rainbow Trout I had ever hooked. I was standing nearly waist deep on big slippery rocks in relatively fast current, and I had a light tippet on. There was a moment I thought there was no way I was going to land the fish, but luckily I was at the tail end of the riffle. As I kept pressure on the fish, I carefully walked downstream towards slower water where I could fight the fish better. Luckily my friend was nearby, and after a relatively short fight that felt like eternity he was able to net it. We were both ecstatic.
Careful to keep the fish in the water, we walked over to shore, unhooked it, and took several pictures before releasing it back in the river. I’m sure for the regular Bighorn angler it wasn’t anything too special, but for me it was a great accomplishment, catching a large healthy fish over a thousand miles away on the fly in a challenging river I had never fished before. My friend switched places with me and began fishing the same section of riffle. Before too long he hooked into a healthy rainbow of his own. I was able to return the favor and net it. I was glad we were both able to land nice fish in foreign water.
After finishing fishing the riffle, we headed back to camp early, spotting several pheasants on the short drive back. We knew our friends would be itching to get back on the road, which is exactly what we did. I would love to go back to the Bighorn someday, but it would be hard to create a better memory than the experience we had that morning.
Glacier bound
We still had a significant 8-9 hour drive through the heart of Montana that day, but it didn’t feel nearly that long. Even though we mostly drove through grassland, you could always see snow capped mountains somewhere in the horizon. If you tired of looking at those, we saw plenty of Pronghorn Antelope and Mule Deer, along with Magpies and Ravens.
We made a stop in Ryeburg to eat at a small town diner, which was an experience in itself. Then we drove straight through to our destination, Essex Montana. Essex is located on the banks of the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, bordering Glacier National Park. The last 30 minutes of the drive was on US Highway 2. The highway is located near the bottom of a steep canyon. Glacier National Park is located on one side of the road, and the Middle Fork of the Flathead is located on the other. This drive is truly the most scenic road I have ever driven on. There was beauty in every direction; it was overwhelming. I almost didn’t want to turn off into our cabin, but I was also excited to see where we would be staying the next couple of days.
Our cabin was small but cozy, located just next to some railroad tracks and a small creek. Over the next couple of days I saw Western Tanagers, Pine Siskins, and several species of hummingbirds from the cabin. We were pretty tired from the ride, so after cooking some burgers and ramen in the kitchen, we made plans for the next day. Then we went to sleep. The non-fishermen wanted to sleep in again, so we decided on trying to fish the Middle Fork of the Flathead for a couple hours in the early morning before setting out on a hike.
Flathead River
That morning we drove about ten minutes back on Highway 2 to an access point we had driven past the previous day. We began fishing a small creek, but we were unable to find any fish. My excuse was the glacial runoff making it too fast to get my nymph down to the fish. The river was flowing high and fast as well, but it was still clear. In addition, there are a couple nice slow eddies and pockets of water where the creek empties into the river. I tied a prince nymph on along with some lead and began tightline nymphing these pockets.
Before too long I landed a small Mountain Whitefish shortly after losing another. This was a new species for me, and it was exciting, but my goal was a Westlope Cutthroat. I really wanted to catch a cutthroat to knock it off my bucket list. I moved up farther, fishing a small eddy in the middle of the confluence, and shortly landed another whitefish and my first ever cutthroat trout. It was small, maybe 7 or 8 inches, but that didn’t matter to me. I was very excited, and it was also a relief to have caught one so early in the trip. I walked downstream to a small pocket behind a boulder where I was able to catch another small Westslope Cutthroat. By then it was time to head back to the cabin to prepare for the hike.
Avalanche Lake
The guys all wanted to do the Avalanche Lake hike that day, even though it was likely to be overrun by tourists. We knew it was a must-see destination inside the park, and we were severely limited in our options due to the Covid-19 closures in the park. We drove into the park and managed to find a parking spot in the lot. The hike took us about an hour, taking us by a beautiful little canyon and through an old-growth cedar forest.
We arrived at the lake around noon. The view is simply incredible. Snow capped mountains surrounded the glassy, crystal clear lake on all sides, with glacial snowmelt forming numerous sizable waterfalls down steep mountainsides and emptying into the lake. A description or even a picture of the place fails to do it justice. The only downside was the crowds lining the shore taking pictures and eating lunch. To be fair, It’s hard to blame them for wanting to experience this view too. I brought my fishing rod, and tried for the small cutthroats in the lake, but I was unable to get a bite. In hindsight, I wish I had put the fly rod down and just soaked in the view a little more, but I’m not mature enough for that.
Sherry Chalet
On the drive back to the cabin it began raining and didn’t let up the rest of the afternoon. This is just part of the reality of being in the mountains. Plus it gave us some time to regroup and plan the rest of the trip. A couple of my friends are fitness nuts, and so we decided on a challenging hike. Since they had been accommodating for my fishing excursions so far, I agreed to go even though I wasn’t in the physical shape they were. I do like a challenge too, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the one they picked out for me the next morning.
We were going to hike up to the Sperry Chalet, a backcountry hostel of sorts. It is located atop a mountain pass supposed to have an incredible view. It was a 6.5 mile hike up, with a 3700 foot elevation gain. I maintain that I would have been just fine getting up there if I was able to set my own pace, but my attempt to keep up with my friends throughout the hike left me out of breath. The last mile through the deep snow was particularly exhausting to me. I don’t think it’s a particularly challenging hike, I was just out of shape and took it too fast.
Because of our pace, we were able to make it to the top in a little over two hours. It was a beautiful hike, but a large section took us through a burn zone of a recent forest fire. The last mile through the snow was challenging, but simultaneously enjoyable simply because it was so foreign to me. I had never seen so much snow, nonetheless in mid-June.
The view from the top was simply breathtaking. You could see for miles down thousands and thousands of feet. For me the most impressive view was looking up. There were still thousands of feet up to the peaks of the mountains, and due to the clouds, we never actually saw the peaks. This gave them the illusion of being never-ending. As I enjoyed the best ham and cheese sandwich of my life, I gained a newfound respect for mountain climbers. The hike down was much more comfortable for me. I enjoyed the views a little better, spotting a pair of mountain goats atop a steep ridge.
After making it back to the car, I quickly fell asleep. Since we set out early that morning, I had time to take a nap in the afternoon and still go fishing. We tried a different access point on the Flathead that evening, but we were fishless. The river was still high and fast, but there was no slow water at this access point. Even though we were unsuccessful, it was hard to be too mad standing on the banks of the wildest river I’d ever fished.
Another hike? No thanks, I will fish
That night my friends began planning another steep ascent in the morning. I was not thrilled about the idea, even though the hike led to an alpine lake with cutthroats. Instead, I had them drop me off early the next morning. I decided on the access of the Middle Fork where we fished on the first day. The river seemed to be flowing about the same, but I was surprised to see the creek flowing noticeably slower. I knew this was going to be my last chance to target cutthroats. I tied a nymph rig with my standby, a #14 prince nymph, under an indicator.
As I was tying up, I noticed that due to the slower current, the small pocket I had gotten several bites in earlier was much larger. I figured this was a good sign. Sure enough, I got a bite on my first 4 drifts in a row. One of the bites turned into a beautiful 13 inch Westslope Cutthroat Trout. I missed the rest of the takes, but that’s not important. With the same rig, I picked out several more cutthroats and whitefish from pockets without moving more than 20 feet. I then moved my indicator higher up the line to present to deeper fish and landed several more fish.
Next, I began working downstream to give the confluence a rest. I found the fish downstream to be more responsive than they were on the previous outing. The next couple hours, I fished up and down the same 150 yards of bank, consistently catching fish the whole time. By the time my friends picked me up, I was just sitting on the bank, soaking up my last few minutes in the mountains. I ended up catching close to 20 fish that morning, including 2 nice cutthroat over 12” and over a dozen mountain whitefish.
Sluice Boxes State Park
We began the long journey back to St. Louis that afternoon, but we still had plenty left to do. We settled on camping at a place called Sluice Boxes State Park the first night. It features a canyon and a creek, as well as some prairie, and is located in the Little Belt Mountains southeast of Great Falls. After calling the state DNR to reserve a backcountry permit, I began to do a little research on the place. I learned there was fishing in the creek for Brown and Rainbow Trout. We arrived about an hour before dark, and hiked up to a nice overlook where we had a great view of the sunset and portions of the canyon.
We had a great night reminiscing on our trip, as well as planning our last two days. That morning we woke up chilly, but also determined to try our luck fishing Belt Creek for a couple hours. We made it down to the creek where we found fast water and steep canyon walls, making fishing without waders difficult. My friend caught a nice Brown Trout right off the bat, then we struggled to find any fish in our limited stretch of water. As we were about to go back to camp, a large brown hit my friends indicator. We both threw on different dry flies, but were unable to get a second strike. We broke camp and left, not having the time to explore the majority of the canyon. I hope to be back someday, if only to have another shot at that brown.
On the road again
We had about 9.5 hours of ground to cover that day, but we spread it out stopping at little antique shops and garage sales along the way. I think none of us really wanted to leave Montana. Our destination that final night was the same campsite in the Badlands. We all loved the Badlands, and none of us could think of a better way to end the trip. Cutting it close, we arrived with only about 25 minutes of sunlight left. By then we had it down to a science and we loaded up everything we needed into our packs quickly. We were on the trail before sunset. That last night we all stayed up late, looking at the stars and enjoying our last few hours in the west for a while.
Waking up that morning was sad because it signaled the end of our trip, but to make up for it we were greeted with the most stunning sunrise of the entire trip. As we trudged back to the truck, I found myself walking slower and slower. It seems fitting that the last thing we experienced on our trip did nothing but make me count down the days until I could be back in the West.
For information on these beautiful places, check out these links:
https://www.nps.gov/glac/index.htm
