The Missouri Lift

Saturday, October 10, 2009.
Packed up the cabin early in the morning and, after a final look around to seal memories, headed north to Wolf Creek and the Missouri River. During my freshman or sophomore year at Juniata I'd ordered a tourism booklet from Montana and, eyes closed, dropped my finger on the map. Wolf Creek. Whether or not the fishing was good, this would be a good day to remember.

Got off at the Wolf Creek exit on I-15 and headed to the Wolf Creek bridge over the Missouri. Just below Holter Dam, the river is wide, deep, and swirling. The temperature on the dash read 14 and the steam rolling off the river swirled in the wind. Faintly, but surely, we saw risers on the water. Randomly placed and inconsistent, but risers nonetheless. We stopped the car when we spooked two Golden Eagles off the river bank not 10 yards from the car. Ben snapped a few photos and we watched them perch in a tree on the far side of the river. An angry, defensive Magpie screeched complaints across the river to them. We drove to the dam and were convinced by the bitterly cold wind and the deep waters to drive back downstream and find a place to jump in.

Past the Wolf Creek bridge the valley opened up and an epic view, littered with mule deer filled the windshield. Bald eagles, golden eagles and other, unidentified hawks soared overhead. Ben's colleague Franklin Hall recommended the tips and tails of the few islands in the river. Sure enough, we stopped at a pull off and watched a massive pod of fish sip bwos and midges behind the closest island. A peregrin falcon cruised over the island, hunting. We suited up in the cold, cold weather and got in the water. Reminder: taking off your pants and socks in 14 degree weather should be avoided when possible.

The fish proved to be elusive. A mink was crawling along the bank, through the tangle of a beaver hut. Paul took pictures at about 3 feet as the critter responded to my kiss-calls. Woodcock infested the island, flitting 100 yrds away when spooked. Coots cruised the river and dove for fish.

Ben set up shop fishing downstream to the risers while Paul and I crossed the island and snuck downstream to attempt upstream casts. The fish quickly caught on and stopped rising. I stood watching, waiting for the fish to turn back on when I felt a familiar tug on my rod - fish on! And off, after a quick jump. Huh. Nice fish, bit while my flies were just hanging in the current. Huh. I think I can do that. I cast a few times across the current and slightly downstream letting the flies drift, catch, submerge, and hang before recasting. Nothing. Hm. Maybe a different fly. Tied on a Kaufman's stimulator size 10 and a size 20 black beauty dropper. A few casts later, flies submerged, the water erupted. As my pole rose to set the hook I saw a fish the size of my leg roll in the current, at least 20 inches of fish was visible and I never saw the head...or the tail. Monster, monster fish. That roll did something right for the fish because as soon as he was on he came off. I was dumbfounded. A few more dazed casts later I realized the damn fish had broke my Kaufman's stimulator hook in half, right at the start of the bend it snapped. WTF. The gods are toying with me now.

We fished all day. Warming at the car twice. Once to drive back to the dam and try our luck in the wind. No luck. Frozen waders. The wind would freeze our waders around our legs like armor. Crazy. Sharp-tailed grouse and mule deer dotted the drive along the river. Back downstream past the bridge to Craig we jumped in and watched some risers along a rip-rap bank. Then we watched a guy and his dog in a canoe run over all those fish... F. At the car I said, "Why the hell have we been ignoring The Werm??" Tied it on with that Black Beauty behind. Second cast into the first riffle my line took off. Big fish. Reel screamed. I yelled "fish on" to Ben and Paul. Ben came down with a net to help, but as he got to the bank my line, still taught, stopped moving. I started swearing, cursing - thought the damn fish had snagged me on the bottom or in the carpet of weeds on the riverbed and swam off. Ben cut in quickly and told me he'd read about "The Missouri Lift." Apparently, these fish bury themselves in the weed beds and you have to lift them out before you can net them. In disbelief I reeled myself down to the fish and sure enough, lifted him right out of the weeds. Ben netted on the second try and his net was covered with vegetation, weeds spilling over dragging in the water. In the middle of them was a nice 20 inch, 3lb rainbow. Best fish of the trip so far (in the net). Yes. Mission accomplished. Caught a nice, fat trout near Wolf Creek, MT.



Fished the rest of the day and snapped photos of the surrounds. Geese, ducks, falcons, hawks, eagles, and mule deer surrounded us. Fish rose sporadically, enough to convince us to tie on size 20 and 22 dries, but not enough to allow themselves to get caught. The wind blew and the temperature dropped. Waders froze. Fingers and faces tingled, turning red, golden sunlight reflected on lenses. Breath froze and swung south in the wind. At sunset we headed back to the car and had a toast to our last day with Paul.

Saw some very nice mule deer buck on the way out of the valley. A coyote sat, patiently waiting for dusk.

Joined Franklin at his house and headed to Windbags for a huge prime rib, whiskey (about a 5oz pour), and strong IPAs. Toyed with Helena hearts at Big Dorothy's. Headed to Alto's, aka, "the tow." Nothin' doin. Walked home and chased mule deer down the streets of Helena. Woke early. Paul's borrowed travel rod wouldn't come apart. After calls to Orvis and repeated techniques the "behind the knee pull," recommended by the customer service agent, snapped the pole. Shit. Glad he was done fishing. Hopefully Orvis will honor their no-questions-asked lifetime warrenty...

Drove back to Belgrade, coffee at a Rocky Mountain Roasting Co., dropped Paul at airport and spend time getting him on a different flight from Denver to Dulles - United canceled on him... Snow fell, blowing through the streets.

Probably taking the day to rest, do work, and take a breath before jumping into our second full week. Hopefully the weather and the fishing will get better.

The Missouri, Wolf Creek, and that lunker will continue calling.