Mountain Travels, Part 3. Wise River Country

Western Montana is a land of Big Sky Country, sweeping valleys and gray peaks with very few people and a rich history.  We traveled through this region in awe and wonder.

Kelly’s thoughts…

Our morning led us out of the beautiful Centennial Valley to the north.  This part of Montana is characterized by wide valleys with gray mountain ranges in between.  We crossed one valley and through a mountain range into another, and then another.  Our first stop was the small town of Dillon, Montana, to get gas and resupply from the grocery store.  A bit farther north and we entered the sweeping Big Hole valley. 

The Big Hole River figures large in my memory as one of the finest trout streams in Montana, though I only fished it a few times, and mainly lower down.  The Big Hole River has been recognized as a prime fishery since the late 1800s.  One of the main draws is the presence of Arctic grayling in the watershed, one of few waters where it can still be found.  There are still some westslope cutthroat trout, as well, but very few.

The valley is almost more than can be taken in, with broad, far-reaching pastures and hay fields dotted by classic Montana ranches and interwoven with willow-banked streams, with formidable, leaden mountain peaks all along the western side.  The only town in this area of any size is Wisdom. The original two main tributaries of the Jefferson River branch of the Missouri were the Wisdom and the Philanthropy Rivers, named after two of Jefferson’s virtues.  The Wisdom became the Big Hole and the Philanthropy became the Ruby River.  But Wisdom town retained that special Jeffersonian virtue, at least nominally.  The valley is known for its immense hay production, and the beautiful wooden haystacker frames dot the valley here and there.

Lewis and Clark traveled through this valley where the tribal regions of several peoples met, the Nez Perce, the Shoshone (Sacajawea’s tribe), Salish and Blackfoot.  Later there was a big battle in the valley, the Battle of the Big Hole between the US and the Nez Perce.  The US was hit hard with major casualties (about 30% of the force).  Even so, the Nez Perce retreated north to Canada to seek asylum.  Later, in the late 1800s many US miners and homesteaders settled in the valley.  To my eye, the valley looks much as it might have in about 1885.

As we drove north and made an eastward turn along the river into a canyon, we came to the tiny town of Wise River.  Here we turned south up the Wise where we were to camp for a couple nights.  The Wise River is a stream I fished many years ago in my college days and wanted to fish again.  A bit out of the way, it’s not the most popular Montana fishery, but what a lovely valley and setting.  And the stream and the trout are the perfect size.

We found a side road up Lacy Creek and a really nice place to camp overlooking a beautiful meadow.  Here we stayed for two nights.  The first evening I fished the small stream right below camp and caught maybe 100 fish, who knows, I lost count after several dozen.  They were incredibly hungry brook trout, no more than 10 inches.  One can either catch many fish, or big fish.  I like catching many fish.  I was using a Sage 7.5 ft 2wt I built a couple years ago for exactly these conditions. On that light tackle, each fish felt like a trophy.  The perfect rod for the perfect stream.

The next day we explored the valley visiting a miner’s cabin and went over the pass to the south to a small hot springs resort area.  There were plenty of people camping in the valley, but few enough to make us comfortable and wanting to come back again one day.   I fished the main Wise River for several hours and caught large numbers of beautiful brook trout, but also westslope cutthroats and one nice Arctic grayling (no picture, unfortunately!).  Something about catching this unique salmonid in such a remote locale made me feel like myself, like I was doing the right thing.

This place, this area of southwestern Montana, felt so much like home to us.  We will be returning, often, I hope, and prepared to experience the mountains and streams.

Riki’s thoughts…

Nestled in many of the lovely, wide valleys of Montana are grass strip airports. Some of them have a few hangars, some are little more than a wind sock and a few orange markers set up around a mown area. My youngest child just earned her private pilot’s license. Every time we drove by a Montana airstrip, I would frantically put aside the crossword puzzle we worked on together as we drove (new this trip) and grabbed for my phone to snap some pictures to send to Tori. There was one of those cute little airports at the base of the Wise River canyon. Many campgrounds were positioned along the river right off the main road. We easily passed up those for a site a bit farther from the main road and from other campers.

Just a few yards after Kelly turned off the main road to head up Lacey Creek, I spotted a badger cruising around in some willows. It was the first time I have seen a badger in the wild. It seemed small, maybe a female or a juvenile.

We drove by a few good camping spots and found a wonderful one, sitting atop a bluff overlooking Lacey Creek as she wound through rushes in a valley filled with oxbows. It led into a narrower spot where the creek sped up and bubbled over rocks in a straight section. This was the section where Kelly caught buckets of small trout, and the section that he was sure I would be able to catch my first fish on my new rod. No such luck, but I did get to see for the first time a trout come up and bite my fly. I was so excited that I turned to look at Kelly instead of setting the hook properly. Fish 1, Riki 0.

While Kelly was fishing the Wise River the next day, I took the dogs for a drive up a side road to find a hiking trail. To call my orienteering skills weak would be overly-kind. But, Elfie is very good at staying on a trail, so I figured if I picked a well-marked trail, we would be able to adventure fairly-safely, despite being in grizzly territory and moose/calf season. We bypassed the first trail due to too many cars in the parking area at the trail head (there was one car.)

The second trail head was empty, so we headed out. We walked by a stream most of the way. About 20 minutes into the hike, we started hearing cattle – lots of cattle – complaining they way they do when they are being moved. I didn’t think the three of us (Rango, Elfie and me) would be helpful to cowboys trying to move cattle, so we turned around and headed back down the trail. We had a lovely, short hike, and then headed out to try to find another place to hike, as I had arranged to give Kelly a good couple of hours on the river. I found a lovely river access that we explored a while before heading back to meet Kelly.

 

After years of spending almost all my time with my children, I struggle to spend time alone, especially in the wilderness. But it is something that I am learning to do, and enjoying the process. The difficult thing is that I seem to not be very good at either being alone or being outdoors. I guess this old dog has a new few tricks to learn: being alone, being outdoors, setting a hook, identifying wildflowers. But, I am grateful for the man with whom I have partnered. To use educational terms, I am in my zone of proximal development (the situation where the best and most learning occurs), a bit beyond what I can handle on my own. Kelly scaffolds my learning so well that I am doing more than I ever thought I could.