Montana Woods N Water June 2015 Print Edition

Publisher’s Notes

By Raf Viniard I don’t know about you but May was a blur and really busy here at Montana Woods N Water. Spring filled the Montana mountains early and local hunters and fishermen took advantage of that. Bear, turkey, morel mushroom and horn hunters were truly living the dream doing what Montanan’s do best...play!

Throw in Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, graduations, tournaments, local events and May was filled with activities. Now that May is behind us we have June to look forward to with Father’s Day, a few fleeting days of bear season left and plenty of fishing, horn and morel mushroom hunting to do. Not to forget putting out the game cameras, and cutting trails to our fall hunting haunts. Best of all it is time to break out those fishing poles and start filling the freezer and smoker with fish fillets and making memories on the water with family and friends.

Northwest Montana is starting to see an influx of campers and tourists.

People from near and far travel to our great state to just experience Montana and all that it has to offer. We are truly blessed to live here year round.

What’s Inside Hunting Fishing Camping Sportsman’s Meditation Local Celebrities Next Generation Montana Dan Outdoor Vet Montana Mitzi Campfire Talk (Rescue) Wings & Prayers Camera Corner

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Staff

Okay it is your turn...send us those photos of your turkey, bear, fish or something that truly represents Montana for publishing consideration.

We are always looking for writers and pictures of Montanan’s at play!

Field Editor: Mitzi Stonehocker 406-544-1868 Sales & Marketing, Lincoln County Kori Erickson—406-293-1478 Director of Social Media Misty Loveless—406-250-4191

Don’t forget to support our advertisers. Without them Montana Woods n Water will not exist. We need their business for us to stay in business and keep you informed, entertained and educated. Enjoy your summer but remember to be safe out there!

Pro Staff Writers & Photographers: Angela Gerych Pastor Jim Sinclair Dan Helterline Paul Fielder Montana Mitzi Sam Martin Jason Badger Tony Rebo Toby Walrath

Publisher, Editor & Layout: Raf Viniard 406-407-0612 Raf@montanawoodsnwater.com

Editorial Policy: Montana Woods N Water (MWW) reserves the right to refuse to publish any form of content that does not include the author’s name, complete mailing address, and/or valid phone number or e-mail address.

Anonymous submissions will not be addressed or published.

MWW reserves the right not to publish anything we feel is not in good taste or appropriate. All content, material and graphics designed by Montana Woods N Water are copyrighted.

Front Cover Photo Provided By: Robert Hosea aka “The BobFactor” Loon Lake, Montana To Contact Us: Montana Woods N Water 171 Clark Creek Loop Plains, Montana 59859 406-08-0576 www.montanawoodsnwater.com Email: raf@montanawoodsnwater.com

HUNTING

A Lucky Misfortune

By Jason Badger

My knees wobbled and buckled as I fumbled my way through the thigh deep logging slash and down the steep draw. Half a decade of re-growth had turned this old clear-cut into an obstacle course. Every snap of a twig seemed amplified and I began to question whether or not my quarry would still be in the vicinity when I reached my pre-determined destination. Beating back the urge to hurry and the doubt that loomed in the chasms of my mind I pressed on. No more than half an hour ago I had spotted a beast of a bear in this canyon. After a few minutes of observation I determined the bear was content with his choice of dining locations and was in a position to try a stalk. I hurried up the canyon to a side draw and began my descent. This draw would bring me to a point approximately three hundred yards from my intended target and I felt comfortable with this shot.

What is it about a bear that stirs our inner being? Some hunters show little or no interest in pursuing these creatures while others, like me, are borderline obsessed. One thing is certain, this animal demands respect no matter how personal opinions about it may vary. It had taken me a decade of trial and error, mostly error, to gain enough knowledge to become a consistently successful bear hunter. I had become addicted to every aspect of it. I have made many stalks on bears before, but the rush I felt during this stalk was no different than it was on my first many years before.

It was more than chance that brought us together on this particular afternoon. I had concentrated my scouting efforts in this area so I wasn’t surprised to find this bear here. I was however impressed by his enormous size. I have glassed many bruins of different sizes, shapes and colors but this one was special. Ancient and powerful, there was no doubt he alone stood on top of the local food chain. I felt privileged to be in the same canyon with this monarch of the ursine world.

My heart climbed into my throat as I broke through the last of the brush and entered a small patch of Douglas fir on a secondary ridgeline. I was now only about fifty yards from where I needed to be. I glanced back up to my original vantage point where my father was stationed on lookout and tried to control my labored breathing. He still had his binoculars focused on the bear’s location. All was well. About this time I heard the faint hum of an approaching ATV and my heart sank. Sure enough, two quads breached the barrier on the skid road above me and continued down canyon toward my father. I knew the game was over. No bear, especially one this large, would stick around with this magnitude of intrusion. In that brief time I had lost sight of my father so I saw no other choice but to continue on as planned and hope for the best. I had only taken a couple of steps when I heard the crack of a .22 rifle. My blood began to boil. Shortly thereafter a small caliber World War III erupted as a barrage of shots echoed through the canyon. These riders had passed my parked pickup on their way in and rode right past my father, so there was no doubt they knew we were here. I silently pondered how anybody could be so Driving around a barrier is against the law! inconsiderate.

As I slowly made my way around the point and into the main canyon I was amazed to see the bear feeding about seventy five yards further up the canyon from where I had originally spotted him. I frantically searched for a rest as I knew he wouldn’t linger for long. I nestled up to a large fir tree and found the beast in my cross-hairs. Brush concealed most of his vitals so I impatiently sat and waited. Somewhere off to my right a Steller’s Jay protested my presence. After what seemed like an eternity the bear stepped up onto a bare mound of dirt and surveyed his surroundings.

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HUNTING CONTINUED My crosshairs settled behind his shoulders, about half way up his large, black body. It was now or never. I slowly squeezed the trigger, expecting to see the bear roll off the mound. Instead he simply turned and started walking back the direction he had come from. I frantically chambered another round and fired.

This time he kicked it into overdrive and charged up the opposite side of the canyon. I mentally scolded myself for overestimating the range as I chambered round number three. Fighting the urge to panic, I again found the bruin in my scope and tracked his movement. About halfway up the other side of the canyon he turned and began to run parallel to me. I estimated him at three hundred yards, moved my crosshairs just in front of his nose and squeezed the trigger one last time. At the report of the rifle the bear’s legs buckled underneath him in mid-stride and he rolled down the hill. I cycled my last round into the chamber and sighed in relief as an eerie silence fell over the canyon. So much time and emotion had built up to this moment and it was over just like that. Long moments passed with no movement and it was only then that I began to relax and absorb what has just occurred.

I groped through my hunting pack and retrieved my cell phone. I called Dad to discuss our retrieval options. The first words out of his mouth were “that wasn’t the big one!” I was disgusted as he relayed the story to me. When the ATV riders began shooting their .22’s, the bear I was originally stalking made a quick exit. Then the second bear appeared further up the canyon shortly before I made it to the point. The bear I had just shot was not the behemoth I had been after. My disappointment was short lived however because I knew the bruin lying across the canyon was no slouch.

Dad was going to retrieve the pack frame and some more water while I made my way over to the bear. I hurried as fast as I could considering the terrain, but approached the final fifty yards with caution. I found a suitable stick and heaved it at the motionless creature. Nothing. I found a larger stick and boldly poked at the bear. Still there was no movement. It was all over. I felt around and found an ear protruding from underneath his massive body. I gave a mighty tug and uncovered the enormous head. I was speechless. This bear was big! I knelt beside him and ran my fingers through his hair. There is always an array of mixed emotions when I harvest an animal. I was excited and grateful, but somewhat sorry and remorseful at the same time. A magnificent animal had just lost its life and I took it. Who knows what sort of hardships and dangers this bear had endured prior to our encounter.

He wasn’t really a heavy bear for his frame size, about three hundred pounds. He was long in body and legs and could have easily supported much more weight. I measured him at 6’6” from nose to tail! The steep terrain coupled with his large size made maneuvering him difficult. It took the better part of ten minutes to get him into a position to begin the field dressing chores and I knew it would be a late night of packing. I called a few friends for help and did what I could by myself until reenforcements arrived. During the skinning process I removed a .22 bullet from the boar’s front shoulder…a sad reminder that many people lack common sense and respect for nature. This animal deserved better.

When my friends arrived it took six of us four and a half hours to get the hide and quartered carcass back to my pickup. All the way up the canyon we fought impenetrable brush, thorns, and steep ground littered with logging slash that tormented our every step. Twice I had to stop and adjust the hide on my pack frame. I was very grateful for their help. Without them my survival would have been in question.

It was well after dark when we made it back to the truck and as we all gathered around the bed of the pickup to ooh and ah, I reflected on the events of the day. I had experienced excitement, frustration, anger, panic and elation all within the same hour and a half. I was exhausted. While not my largest bear, he was certainly one of my most memorable. I had spent a lot of time and money doing my homework. I knew where and what the bears were feeding on, and when they were feeding on it. I was very satisfied and just as giddy as I had been the day I harvested my first black bear a decade earlier. It is this feeling that keeps me coming back. I hope it never leaves me.

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FISHING

8 Tips for the Modern Bank Fisherman

By Sam Martin

Photo Courtesy of RTK Photography

It is no secret that the majority of anglers are shore-stoppers. Boats and other watercraft are expensive to buy and maintain which is the primary reason for the majority of fishermen being landlocked. This is fine and well, good to be fiscally smart, but this also creates a new set of troubles. Shore anglers have limited areas to fish, sometimes it is a whole pond, yes, but most often there is only a small stretch of cleared bank an angler has to work with. So the real question is; how can someone make the most out of their experience? Well, these may not be all the answers but here are eight surefire ways to improve your day around the lake.

1: Do your homework!

Ok, sure. This is something that gets hit a lot in these articles but seriously, it is imperative for success. Before arriving at a lake or river any angler must always do their research; determining water clarity, bottom contour, bottom composition, and acquiring local fishing knowledge.

2: Match the Hatch As basic as advice comes but still necessary to reiterate. It is even more important, though, for the bank angler where fishing space is limited and pressure is high. Anglers who wander the bank must match their baits precisely to the local forage species if they wish to do well, even going as far as to paint their existing baits to better match the variations of color in the local prey.

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FISHING CONTINUED

3: Hit it, Hit it Again, Hit it Once More This is probably the best advice any bank angler can get. It is not often that a prime piece of structure, like a fallen log or rock pile, is positioned along an open area of bank, but when it is any fisherman worth his salt should fish that spot to death. The pressure on that piece of cover will be intense, meaning that any fish positioned there will have likely seen every lure possible. It will likely take several casts to the same spot to elicit any sort of strike. Be patient.

4: Persist Yeah, sometimes fishing can get tedious, even boring, but when it comes to shore fishing persistence is even more important. You can’t really go to the fish as a shore angler so you must wait for them to come to you.

5: Carry Only What You Need Fishing is an addictive sport and most people could probably sink their life’s earnings into it. However, for the shore angler this is just not possible. A shore angler must be able to carry all they need on their back and carry as few rods as necessary. Do research and determine what exactly is needed each trip.

6: Go Chameleon This may sound silly but wearing any form of camouflage can actually help improve a shore angler’s catch.

Remember that if a fish is visible, so is the fisherman. Try dressing to match the surrounding backdrop, combine that with slow and stealthy movement in order to standout less from the background.

7: X-Ray Vision Many anglers know what an advantage polarized glasses can be for the average fisherman. For those who do not know, polarized glasses help to cut down the surface glare which allows you to see under the water even in bright conditions. They can be invaluable to the any fisherman who wishes to spy his quarry.

8: Sensible Heels!

For those who do a great deal of walking, footwear is everything. When hours are spent meandering along a bank any person will know the truth in that. Don’t skimp on gear, especially that which is meant to take care of your body. Boots with high sides will help to keep ankles from rolling over while custom insoles will help to keep both feet and spine in good condition.

Motorists Hauling Watercraft Must Stop at AIS Inspection Stations Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks officials remind private and commercial boaters that state law requires all motorists hauling watercraft to stop at inspection stations. Watercrafts include motorboats, sailboats, kayaks, canoes, rowboats, rafts, jet skis and even small kick boats popular among some anglers.

Always stop at AIS watercraft inspection stations for a brief interview and equipment check. Most inspections take fewer than five minutes, but failure to stop could lead to a $135 fine. Inspection stations aim to prevent the introduction and spread of unwanted aquatic invasive species.

The annual education and enforcement effort, which this year includes multiple chances to win prizes from an array of local sponsors, is to further curb the risk of aquatic invasive species from attaining a foothold in Montana waters.

Seventeen well-marked inspection stations will again be in operation May through September at key border crossings, along major highways, and on heavily used water bodies. Motorists who stop will have their equipment checked—and cleaned if needed—and get information on how to enter a raffle for prizes to be awarded throughout the boating season.

Remember to always inspect, clean, drain and dry boats, trailers and gear after each use.

For more on AIS, visit FWP's website at fwp.mt.gov, then click "Aquatic Invasive Species".

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TONY REBO UNLEASHED

Summertime Memories

By Tony Rebo With Memorial Day behind us, another favorite season comes to mind: camping season. Memorial weekend is the official start to the camping season in Montana. Every year dozens of hardy campers head to their favorite site for a weekend of roughing it in the wilderness.

There are so many types of campers, and I believe that through our lives we transition from one type to another. Let me explain.

The newbies, or the young couples, have very limited gear. Some will be lucky enough to have a tent or maybe a makeshift tarp to climb under. Their favorite food is the hotdog, because you can cook it on a stick and don’t need any utensils. The newbie will not bathe for several days and is OK with that. In the event that bad weather should occur, they are OK with climbing into their car and sleeping for the night. The one thing that a newbie always has plenty of is beer. Other campers allow the newbie to hang around because that is the one supply they can share.

The next group of campers is the more traditional, really-like-to-camp folks. They are usually the families – a couple with children who love to get away after a long week of work. I love these campers because they consist of the hard working family guy who wants to spend time with the family on his day off. These campers will have the basics: nicer or larger tent, or a 12-feet to 20-feet pull camper, a pickup truck to haul the kid’s bicycles and other toys, two dozen lawn chairs, and at least one beat-up, old BBQ. These campers have a bonfire going around the clock and a never-ending wood supply. You can find mom and dad camped in a lawn chair watching as the entire gang of rug rats are running about totally out of control. The parents are totally exhausted and can’t get up from their chairs. These campers like hotdogs too, since you can send the kids out to cut sticks and they can then serve themselves. What I like most about these campers is that they go to bed early, unlike the next group of campers that I am going to talk about.

I call the next group, “Generation Y” campers. These folks have all the necessities needed to move into a camp site. When these campers pull up to a site it is like watching a re-run of Convoy. The first vehicle to arrive on scene is a monster truck. It has a lift kit and the truck is always black in color with tinted windows and some logo sticker in the back window. The next big truck to arrive is pulling the camper, which has to be a minimum of 26-feet long. The camper is followed by the trucks pulling the boats, the toy hauler filled with off road vehicles, and several other adult toys. Finally when the last truck arrives it has all the beer. The beer is kept in very large coolers in the back of one truck, and that truck never gets to leave the camp site. “Generation Y” has spent all their money on toys, so normally this group will have the cheapest beer that can be purchased. If they can buy a 30 pack for $15.00 then its game on. I have spoken to several of these campers and have tried to understand the logic of buying and drinking cheap and horrible tasting beer. The response is always the same, “Dude, it is camping beer.” Continued on page 10 8

June 20—21, 2015

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TONY REBO UNLEASHED CONTINUED Apparently cheap beer can be left everywhere, and not one is really empty. Seriously the next time you are out camping next to this group, look around their site and count the number of half full cans. They are everywhere.

Every stump has a half full can, every bumper, and every flat spot within 100 yards has a half full can. The group either has memory problems as to where they placed their beer and has gotten another only to lose it as well within the next 15 minutes. Or the taste is so bad that they try hiding this horrible tasting refreshment around the camp.

That’s why this group stays up all night – they can never find their beer. This group will go all weekend and never sleep. The one thing this group doesn’t need is lawn chairs. They all stand in a circle mesmerized by the fire. But, hey! Guess what? The favorite food of this group is, also, the hotdog.

The last group of campers, and also my favorite, are the seasoned campers. It is all about luxury and comfort. No cheap beer or hotdogs at this camp site. This group may have a modest camper with a standalone hammock in the shade. This group gets up early and enjoys the day. At night, after a good steak and fine glass of wine, this group settles down in the comfort of the wilderness.

Yep, we are all in one of these places, and it doesn’t matter which one it is, because living in Montana gives us the opportunity to enjoy camping at its finest. My favorite camping trips were when I was a teenager. The first week of June would mark the end of the school year and the beginning of summer. It was a tradition to head into the woods and spend the night. My buddies and I would load up a backpack and head to the flats, our favorite spot in the world.

The flats were only about a mile from my house. It was also the mountain that had a giant “L” painted on it. Of course, everyone knows it was the “L” for the Loggers of Libby. This mountain was our playground. We spent every moment we could up in the woods. We built tree forts, blinds, and my favorite – underground bunkers.

There is one particular trip that I remember more than the others though. It was Memorial Day weekend and my best friend and I were heading to the mountain to spend the night. We loaded our packs and headed out on our bikes to our favorite place in the world. The road leading to the flats was up hill, so we had to push our bikes until we reached the top. Then, we’d ride to the big meadow with the apple trees. We pitched our tent, set out our gear and began our search for dinner.

Part of the fun was to try to get dinner from the forest. We had our 22 rifles and plenty of ammo. On this particular trip, I don’t remember having any luck in getting dinner from the forest, so we had to settle with chili from a can. This is where things got fun. We were smarter than the average 12-years-old boys, and we had vast knowledge to this whole camping thing and surviving in the forest. We dug a pit and built a nice fire. We placed a small rack over the pit to place our can of chili on. That night we feasted like kings on chili and Hawaiian fruit punch. Do you remember that punch? Do you remember the commercials? The little guy with the pineapple on his head that went around giving out Hawaiian punches. Pretty funny stuff. Did you know that a can of fruit punch placed in the fire will explode like a small stick of dynamite? Oh, yes it does. First the soft aluminum can will start to expand and make crazy popping sounds. Then, the soda will boil and create pressure in the can until it explodes.

Let me just say that one can will leave a hole in the ground, and blow a small fire completely out during the explosion. Let me tell you this though, two12-years-old boys plus a six pack of Hawaiian fruit punch plus a fire equals an explosion equal to an atomic bomb. I am deaf in my left ear, and this may be why.

What I remember is we thought that it was going to be epic. A story we could tell for years to come. We discovered an explosive device that could save the world and it only cost $2.00 a six-pack. I remember dropping the six-pack into the fire pit and running back from the fire to what I would call the safe zone. My best pal and I waited in the safe zone for quite some time, and nothing happened. We couldn’t hear the tink, tink, tink of the can expanding. It was time to move from the safe zone to the danger zone. Not smart. Let me make that perfectly clear. Continued on page 12 10

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TONY REBO UNLEASHED CONTINUED My buddy and I stood at the edge of the fire pit and stared at the six-pack of fruit punch wondering why nothing had happened yet. We then concluded that even though the soft tin cans had expanded, we still might need to place the cans closer to the center of the fire. My buddy found a long stick and was going to use it to push the cans closer to the center. He touched the edge of one of the swollen cans, and that is when it happened.

The explosion was like none other. I am sure that windows in town shook and the Libby residents were convinced that we were having a small earthquake. Well back in the danger zone, we were having our own problem. The explosion lifted the fire out of the pit and into the air scattering small burning elements all around us. One could compare this to a thousand falling stars that all landed within 50 feet of each other. I came to rest on my back in the dirt next to the now much larger fire pit. I was missing a shoe, and my left pant leg was burned off clean up to my knee exposing a very black sock that was white when I left the house. My nose was bleeding and I could smell burned hair, which explains what happened to my eye brows. My buddy was about ten feet away lying on the ground, and still holding the stick he used to cause this mess. He didn’t look much better. He lost his eyebrows, as well, and it appeared as though part of his chin was gone. It wasn’t bleeding much because of the dirt compacted into the wound. I stared in disbelief as to why he now had two chins separated by a piece of skin hanging down to his chest.

Boys are boys, and as smart as we were we realized that there would be hell to pay for our experiment. There was no way that we were the only ones who heard this explosion and it wouldn’t be long before some adult would arrive and check things out. Our plans were to gather our stuff as quick as we could and get the heck out of there. It was pretty simple. We didn’t have too much to gather as the tent disappeared in the explosion. We were never sure if it caught fire or just simply evaporated. Either way, it was one less thing to pack. We collected what was left, got to our bikes and headed for home. We had about a ten-minute ride to the house and needed to come up with a story quick.

It was unanimous that what happened to us was the result of a bike accident. We were coming down off the mountain and we just got going too fast. One of us hit a rock, which sent him flying into the other causing us both to lose control and crash on the old dirt road.

The story worked like a charm. My buddy had to go to the emergency room and get 11 stitches in his chin. Other than that, our story was rock solid or so I thought. Later that night my mom was sharing our story with my dad and how bad of a wreck we had gotten into on our bikes. “It was a terrible scene, I mean look at him,” Mom said.

“He must have been traveling really fast, and skidded down the road quite a ways to scrape his eyebrows clean off like that”.

“I know, right!” I spoke up.

My dad then asked if I heard the big explosion that the neighbors were talking about. I just shook my head in a silent “No.” I didn’t hear a thing. That’s weird…

Well, you all have a fun summer and enjoy some time out camping. I am heading to the store to see if they still make that Hawaiian fruit punch in an aluminum can.

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SPORTSMAN’S MEDITATION

Rescued

By Pastor Jim Sinclair It was the fall of 1969 I was 12 years old and had just passed my hunters safety course. The day had finally come for me to hunt. I was with my close friend Jimmer, and his Dad and we were headed to a place always referred to as the “PIT”. This was somewhat of a mythical place I had heard about many times. It was a deep canyon with hidden ridges and trails everywhere. While getting out of the truck and putting our gear together in the dark, we were receiving last minute instructions from Jimmer’s Dad. I remember those words to this day, “Boys be careful that you don’t get turned around.”

All I could think about was the “Big Buck” I was about to bag. The quest for the “Big One” soon replaced my inner compass, and there I was five hours later LOST, there is something about being lost that overtakes your logic and at 12 years old, I had no sense of direction.

Now it was getting dark and I was starting to get scared, I was close to panic, that’s when Jimmer’s Dad stepped out from behind a tree, and said, “Are you ready to head back to the truck?”

I can’t begin to describe what it felt like to be “RESCUED”. I didn’t know it, but he had been watching me for quite a while. I was so glad he found me.

Reflecting on the recent event with four individuals lost in Sanders County. Three were rescued quickly but one man was out there several days, I can only imagine what it felt like when he realized that he was RESCUED. Which reminds me, we have all been rescued, in fact scripture is clear, that he found us we didn’t find him.

Psalm 71:2 2. Deliver me in thy righteousness, and rescue me: Bow down thine ear unto me, and save me. (ASV) 2000 years ago, the greatest Rescue ever done was on a cross, for all who will receive. Keep Livin the Life!

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Propane Cylinder Fill ● Car Batteries ● Lube Oils

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Chuck Stranahan’s of Hamilton, MT schools students on fly tying! Back Center: Chuck Stranahan Left to Right Front: Russ Laughlin of Hamilton, Steve Davis of Hamilton, Dan Wisdom of Corvallis and Bill Feille of Darby.

Dustin Irwin and his two buddies with their catch of the day from Bull Lake. WOW!

Making family memories!

Sierra Rose Joner of Plains, MT with her brother, Isaiah Joner. This is Sierra’s first bear. Congratulations!

Jerrod Lile of Plains, MT took this beautiful bear with his bow. Looks like Jonny Joner (right) also of Plains, Montana will be helping with the packing out portion of this bear hunting adventure.

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NEXT GENERATION

Ayden Driear, age 12 of Kalispell with his very first turkey. Way to go Ayden! Congrats!

Cade Stinnett, Age 12 with his second bear as a 12 year old, shot with a .308. Awesome job Cade! Congrats!

Kristina Scott of Thompson Falls, MT with a nice bass! What time is supper?

Congratulations on a nice bass!

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MONTANA DAN

Fins, Feathers and Fungus

By Dan Helterline Spring has sprung and summer is on the way in Western Montana and there is more outdoor activities to engage in than you can shake a preverbal stick at. If you can't find a reason to get out and enjoy the great outdoors you’re not trying very hard. Fishing is getting better everyday, morel mushrooms and asparagus are out in force, and horn hunters can hit the hills searching for freshly dropped antlers to add to their bone collection.

There was a good walleye bit earlier on the lower Clark Fork and even though I was unable to give it a whirl, I did hear of several fish over ten pounds and plenty just under were being caught. In the spring the local walleye population move up river to spawn on the gravel bars below Thompson Falls, fisherman were having success trolling bottom bouncers using walleye spinners baited with a night crawler. Pike fishing is always good this time of year with the large females entering shallow bays as the water warms to spawn.

Jeff Durkin with a nice walleye

Large spoons and bucktail spinners can provoke vicious strikes when cast along drop offs and weed beds, with crankbaits being effective either by casting or trolling.

Red and white Daredevils and Five of Diamonds are two proven spoon patterns, while crankbaits that imitate resident baitfish work best. While helping the Cabinet Ranger District with some prescribed burning I was able to make it out on Noxon Reservoir a few different evenings after work and catch several smaller pike but didn't cross paths with any of the thirty pound plus monsters that reside there. But you know what they say, a bad day fishing is better than a good day at work, right?

Morel mushrooms are out now and anyone that hasn’t tasted these little natural wonders don't know what they're missing.

Morels grow in moister sites in the woods that have experienced some type of ground disturbance the previous year. I look

for timber stands that contain Grand Fir or Cedar along draws or creeks, old burns and fires from the previous year are usually a good bet. Logging units that have been slashed and not yet burned can be productive also, try looking in the mechanically constructed fire line around the logging units perimeter.

Sometimes it takes a while to get your mushroom eye focused to finding morels, but when you do it won't be long before you have a bag full of these tasty wild mushrooms. I will usually soak them overnight in a bowl of salt water, rinsing them the next day in cold water to remove any dirt or remaining insects. They can then be cooked a multitude of ways or dried on a screen in the sun and stored in ziplocks for use later, I split the largest ones in half lengthwise and cook smaller mushrooms whole. The easiest way to prepare them is simply sautĂŠ in butter with a dash of garlic

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MONTANA DAN CONTINUED While working in Trout Creek I had been seeing plenty of turkeys, motivating me to buy a tag and take my daughter out for some quality Daddy daughter time on my first day off. My first mistake was not testing the old slate call that I had before leaving the house, my second was feeling sorry for my female Pudelpointer allowing her to ride along and then leaving the window rolled down too far when we departed the truck to embark on our gobbler pursuit. You probably can see where this train wreck is headed. Just as we were approaching the meadow where I had seen several gobblers in the days previous I could hear something running up behind us and sure enough here come Vesper determined not to be left behind on this Grande adventure. We finally were able to hear a tom gobbling but the combination of a whining dog and poorly functioning call was just too much overcome to lure him into shotgun range. He let us know just how lame we were as he let out a couple of farewell gobbles on his way up the mountain.

Down but not out, we all loaded up and headed home making a quick stop at Big Bull Sports to buy a functioning turkey

call. The next morning we got up extra early, told the dog she had to remain at home as I filled up my coffee cup and headed out the door.. We arrived at our gobbler hot spot, quietly got out of the truck and after letting everything settle, let out a couple of convincing yelps on our new call, causing a gobbler to fire off an immediate response in the distance. A gated road was in that general direction so we quickly headed towards our challenger. We had barely begun to hike down the road when we rounded a bend in the road, that I could see a turkey in the distance blocking our intended route. I signaled Alexis to “hit the dirt” as we immediately laid flat in the roadside ditch out of sight from our hopeful quarry. A couple of soft clucks brought immediate gobble, we had found our man! Alexis’s eyes were as big as saucers as I was signaling her to hold perfectly still, every stroke of the call brought an immediate response, each time a little closer. It wasn't long

before I could see the toms’ head bobbing down the road, looking for love in all the wrong places. When he stopped I figured it was time to make my move grabbing my 12 ga. and sitting up all in one motion, the gobbler realized the jig was up and turned to make his escape but my Benelli stopped him short. As he was flapping his last flap in the middle of

the road Alexis and I were busy “high fiving” each other, the dust soon settled and we collected our tom and headed for the truck. We managed to make it home in time for Alexis’s softball game and I could overhear her telling her teammates multiple times about the exciting turkey hunt she had just been on with her Dad, maybe she was more excited then me!

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OUTDOOR VETS Joe Pennock was born into a family of veterans, both grandfathers having served, and his own father, Randy, a member of the Army, doing a tour in Vietnam. He has resided in Troy, MT his entire life, except for the six years that he served in the U.S. Air Force, reaching the rank of SSgt, specializing in Aircraft Structural Maintenance. He was deployed to Dubai during Operation Iraqi Freedom and also served a tour in Okinawa, Japan.

After his discharge, Joe knew without a doubt that he would return home to the mountains of Lincoln County. He was here for a few years, working at the Revett Silver Mine before he met and fell in love with Robbee Campbell. She is also a Troy native and shares his love of the Joe Pennock & Chris Toland outdoors. They’ve since married and are raising their son, Oz, in Troy. They are expecting a baby girl later this summer. The Troy Mine closed recently, and Joe has had to take a job out of town, commuting weekly from the Pend Oreille Mine in Metaline Falls, WA. When he is home and hunting, his favorite game is rutting elk, loving the challenge of difficult terrain and getting close enough for a shot with his bow. He also enjoys going after fat-necked white tails at the end of rifle season with his .300 Win Mag. Joe considers himself a solitary hunter, finding pride in getting it done on his own. Though, he does admit there are times when a partner could have resulted in a more successful hunt. He keeps his circle of hunting buddies close though, limited to his brother and a couple close friends, finding it easier to hunt with someone he knows well.

He lives for opening weekend of fishing in May, loving to go into the narrow Yaak River canyon, using a good old Eagle Claw and a worm to hook into the spawning Kamloops running upriver. He’s also a fan of ice fishing and just cruising around the local lakes trying to catch whatever is biting. While stationed in Alaska, he started using Chartreuse Vibrex Spinners and has found success using them for bull trout, graylings, silver salmon, and rainbows.

Joe loves to be outdoors and this past week was lucky enough to get out to the river twice, feeling truly alive while he is there. He says in the fall, there is nothing like hearing the first elk bugles of the year. It gets the fire lit for the entire season and brings the hopes of filling his freezer with hard earned elk meat.

He claims his biggest achievement is yet to come, but so far, it has been watching his son grow and anticipating the day his son is beside him to hear those raspy bugles.

What an exciting prospect.

Joe’s advice to any young or new hunter would foremost be to respect whatever kind of game they’re pursuing. Don’t ever let anyone bend your ethics, and be grateful for every day you get to spend outdoors.

Aside from hunting, Joe’s other passion is riding the Rocky Mountains on his snowmobile. He claims there is nothing that compares to the thrills and amazing views one experiences while high in the snow covered mountains near home.

As the years come and go, he’s looking forward to spending lots of time with his wife and kids, hiking into mountain lakes, picking huckleberries, hunting, fishing, and camping.

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MONTANA MITZI

Fishing Montana Past and Future

By Mitzi Stonehocker As a young girl I fished the streams that flow the back country of Montana. My Mother loved to fly fish but Daddy used a hook and worm. I loved “hunting” for worms. Shovel in hand, an old soup can, the smell of soft black sod; the memory’s still linger in my older, wiser mind. Digging for worms was usually accomplished in short order as the old sod beds we dug in were full of fat well fed worms. The task completed, sandwiches packed, the day planned, off we went.

Stumbling behind my parents as they used skill and patience, I spent more time getting untangled from the brush along the stream! Careful to keep hidden in the shadows as we fished, the sudden tugging on my line resulted in a short fish fight and a nice size brook trout for my creel. A big smile, another wiggling worm on my hook and the process was repeated until our limit was easily filled. Oh for the “good ole’ days”. 40 plus years later the desire remains the same, the process the same, the catch not so easy.

I teach my granddaughters the age old art of “hunting” for worms. The squeals of delight, the big smiles as they find the squirming worms in the same sod beds I dug for worms in as a kid are precious memory’s. Now they too are making their own memories and becoming future Montana fishing ladies. The same streams I fished, they fish in. At the tender young age of six and eight the little hands that reel in the trout will forever be imbedded in my mind. Their mom, my daughter, shows the same patience I showed her, the same smile is on her face as she patiently helps her daughter’s fish. Four “girls” fishing and making memories every step of the way. The good ole’ days repeated and replaced with new memories and fresh fish to fry. Yes, fishing Montana remains a family tradition, one that cannot be replaced or forgotten.

I have four granddaughters now and three are old enough to fish and they are very good at it! Yup, I am proud and so blessed to be able to pass this sport forward. The Swan Valley will always remain a favorite. The girls are growing and with new poles in hand once again mom and daughters and “Memaw”, (my granddaughters name for me) will slip, fall, laugh and attempt to catch the wonderful fish of the Swan Valley in Montana.

My son Colt, his wife and girls came over for a visit. Our two other granddaughters were here also. A four-wheeler ride and picnic was the best option for some good Montana fun! The day was nice and off we went, Papa had one girl, Mewaw had one and the other two rode with Colt and his wife in the side by side. Seven miles later we stopped by a creek to roast hot dogs and eat our picnic. Five year old Darby asked her Dad if he would get her fishing pole out so she could fish, of course he said yes and so three girls and our son went to the creek. The brush was thick, the creek high so Papa and I did not think a fish could be caught but we knew a memory was being made for us and for the girls. Soon we could hear a lot of squeals and laughter, a nice fish had been caught by the five year old, we were surprised.

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MONTANA MITZI CONTINED After returning to the picnic area, hot dogs were roasted and Darby asked her Dad how they were going to cook her fish? Colt told her he did not have a fry pan, Darby was not put off by that statement, she told her Dad they always ate what they caught. Apology was made and as the tears began to form, Memaw came to the rescue, I said, Honey, Memaw will cook your fish for you.” My son frowned and Darby said yippee and I preceded to do some quick thinking and devised a way to do a fish fry over a open fire and with no frying pan!

I am sure some of you are thinking a stick can work but the fish was not big enough for that, so careful planning and thought went into the following recipe for fried fish over a camp fire without a pan or salt and pepper. When in the woods of Montana one must always be prepared for "emergency" cooking!

Fried Trout Without a Frying Pan

Darby’s fish!

One fish that has been caught and cleaned, leave the head and tail on. One empty aluminum beer or soda can. One tablespoon butter. Add salt , pepper or seasoned salt if you have it.

I do not drink beer but if you are so inclined first drink the beer and then carefully cut off both ends of the can.

Properly dispose of the can ends in the trash so no one gets cut on the sharp edges. Slit the beer can open, careful to leave small traces of beer for flavor. Curl the edges up and lay a small amount of the butter on the can, with pliers place over the fire to let the butter melt, remove can from fire and place the fish on the can adding more butter inside the cavity and on top. Gently, place the can with fish on the coals in the fire being careful to not get it to hot.

After about three minutes, depending on the size of the fish, turn the fish over with a fork or a clean stick. Finish cooking the fish until it is nice and brown and falling apart, remove, let it cool and then watch the big smiles zip across those grandkids face as they take a bite of the delicious fish. Another Montana memory made and stored in the minds of my granddaughters and myself.

Photo left is Darby’s trout cooking over the fire. Photo right is Papa Stonehocker with all four grandkids. Making memories!

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CAMPFIRE TALK

Don’t Make Us Come Looking For You!

By Raf Viniard

About this time last month on a Sunday night I was sitting in my home office preparing to layout the May print edition of Montana Woods N Water. My honey was in Florida and it was just me and the dog easing into the monthly task of laying out the publication. I was in no rush after all I had 2-3 days to make it happen. My plan was to get in bed at a decent time and hit the next day running...little did I know the next two days would not go as planned.

I keep my phone next to me on the desk when in my office and I saw a call coming in from our search and rescue unit...it was 9:26PM. The voice on the other end said, “Are you available for a call out? We have three people lost on the east end of the county.” I told the voice on the other end, “Of course I am available.” I was instructed that everyone would be rallying in 20 minutes downtown Plains at the local Town Pump and to bring my gear. This is the type of call search and rescuers live for...it is what we do 24/7, 365 days a year and 366 on leap year. Rain or shine, cold or hot. The postal service may deliver six days a week but we rescue seven days a week, all hours, day and night.

I quickly shut down the computer, locked the dog in the crate and out the driveway I went. Unknowing how long I would be gone I grabbed some of my cold weather gear since I knew we were going to be operating in the mountains and at night it can get pretty chilly at the higher elevations. My hunting pack and rescue pack are one and the same. With my pack I can stay several nights away from home.

As I approached our rally point many of my fellow rescuers both men and women, young and old were already there gleaning over maps and trying to gather as much information as possible about the situation. Sanders county deputies and other search and rescue team members discussed our approach to the search area. This search would be taking place on tribal lands and the information that was coming in was sketchy at best. All we had was that someone had been in contact with a parent and that their vehicle was stuck in the snowline and had started walking out to find help. We were supposedly looking for three people from the information we were getting.

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CAMPFIRE TALK CONTINUED

Getting ready to depart the rally point.

Vehicles were filled with rescuers and to the extreme east end of the county we all headed with lights flashing.

We would have to enter the search area through the adjacent Lake County and back track into Sanders County. Access to the search area was very limited.

Drivers of the emergency vehicles were on alert for critters running out in front of emergency vehicles.

Before ever leaving Plains, Mike Bedick, President of the Sanders County Search & Rescue along with the Sanders County Sheriff Department had already requested air assets to aid in the search. Two Bear Air out of Whitefish, Montana equipped with Forward Looking Infrared Radar (FLIR) had been requested to aid in the search. By the time we got in the general search area we could see the helicopter circling Hewolf Mountain.

Two Bear Air provides world class aviation support for search and rescue teams for the surrounding areas. The night was pitch black but information was coming in that Two Bear Air had spotted a fire on the side of the mountain as they were leaving their base.

Access to the mountain would be very difficult in daylight operations let alone in the dark. The side of the mountain was heavily forested, jagged and steep. The pilot had located three individuals on the mountain standing around a big fire. With the night getting colder by the minute and not knowing if the individuals had appropriate clothes, food or water to make it through the night it was determined that the three individuals would be airlifted off the side of the mountain by helicopter and brought to a helipad further down the mountain where search and rescue personnel awaited to assess their condition and transport them back down to Highway 93 where an ambulance would be waiting to take them on to the hospital.

As the helicopter set down with the three patients, rescuers quickly assessed them and prepared them for transport down the mountain. Vitals were taken and patients were treated for hypothermia. During the patient assessment phase it was found out that another individual was with them making the count four not three. We were one short and now the rescue turned back to a search and rescue. The helicopter stayed around and searched until it was low on fuel. It returned to base refueled and came back and stayed until the early morning hours trying to locate the fourth individual using the FLIR. Incident Command Post was setup and search operations began with the request of additional manpower, resources and equipment. This search would focus on 80-100 acres of Rescuers wrap patients in Mylar Blankets to treat steep ugly terrain. It was about to turn into a long night and possibly several long days and nights. for hypothermia.

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CAMPFIRE TALK CONTINUED As more assets arrived from surrounding counties and departments it was clear this young man, if alive had a good chance to survive his adventure. However, the reports were that the last individual we were looking for was only wearing shorts, t-shirt and tennis shoes and that he might have a blanket. I was wearing two layers and moving about and I could feel the cold mountain air trying to seep through, this information was not good and left most with grave concern for his safety and survival.

By Tuesday things were not looking good. Dogs, air support and rescuers could not locate this young man. As Two Bear Air Flight Crew circles looking for the young man evening approached plans were being made to rally rescuers, get them fed and rested and start again Wednesday when a call came in that he had been found but needed medical assistance immediately. Rescuers quickly honed in on his location and set off down through the dark steep timber He was down next to a creek in a fetal position suffering from extreme hypothermia and other medical issues. Again, Two Bear Air was on scene to lift the patient out and bring him to the Command Post for air transport by a Med Star flight crew to Missoula for medical treatment.

This was an intense and costly search and rescue operation. Luckily all four individuals come away with only a few days in the hospital.

Hundreds of man hours, thousands of dollars were spent trying to ensure this rescue like others come out with a happy ending.

Med Star Flight Crew loads patient for transport.

Tuesday night as rescuers pulled up stakes and prepared to return to their respective counties, department and agencies I reflected on what had just happened or what could have happened. The Sanders County Corner is also a member of the Search and Rescue Team and as I watched her store the body bags it was a cold hard reminder that this could have had a very tragic ending and would have been a senseless loss of a young life or lives. The big man upstairs has plans for that young man and I hope he realizes it and finds that purpose quickly.

Something To Think About I have been on three call outs and I keep seeing the same common mistakes. Let’s review.

Do not go into the mountains without telling someone exactly where you are going to be. If you deviate from what you told someone you are asking for trouble. As rescuers, we do not know where to start looking for you other than where you told someone you would be. If you are five miles from where you told someone you would be...it may take days for us to find you. Make sure you are back by the time you indicated. Call someone and let them know you are out of the mountains...don’t stop off at a buddy’s and lose track of time. Think about how your friends and love ones feel as they worry about your safety. Be considerate of others. Fill your vehicle to the brim with gas/ 25

CAMPFIRE TALK CONTINUED To conduct a search and rescue operation it takes a lot resources and man hours to make it happen. As I watched out of county rescuers, external agencies/departments work together in trying to find this young man I was so proud I live in Montana. At no time was there dissention, power plays or politics from anyone. Everyone worked together to find this young man and as a team.

Three pictures above: Everyone working together to get the patient transported to Missoula.

Pictured Left: We can be proud of our Sheriff’s...they were right there with a hands on attitude and working together. Sheriff's pictured left to right: Sheriff Tom Rummel/Sanders County, Sheriff Chuck Curry/Flathead County and Sheriff Donald Bell/Lake County.

This still not sinking in...let me bring it a little closer to home. Imagine you having to sit in your vehicle or at a search site hour after hour for possible days as a parent, husband, wife, brother, sister, Mother, Father or friend and wonder if you will ever see that person alive again.

As I watched this young man’s Dad pace the road and sit in his vehicle my heart was so heavy with his pain. As a father myself, the thought of such grief is beyond my comprehension and understanding.

Remember before going into the mountains, Stop, Think, Observe and Plan (STOP). If you fail to address these four things we will still come and TRY to find you before the bears do. In short, don’t make us or your family have to come to find you because you failed to plan. Things happen beyond your control sometimes and that is what we are here for. When you see the orange jackets approaching you might want to get down on your knees and thank the man upstairs because it was not your time to go and he has sent us to RESCUE you.

Picture Left: His shoes. Picture Right: Cathy Harris Sanders County Corner & SCSAR Treasure took this picture of a bear roaming the search area. Helicopters and rescuers were all around this bear and he does not appear worried. Don’t be bear bait, STOP and think before adventuring into the mountains!!

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WINGS & PRAYERS

For Our Fathers On Father’s Day "Fathers young, fathers old Remembering good times are our gold.

Value earned through guidance given Helping us go forth in livin'.

Each father adding to our trove A treasure chest of love untold.

Remembering fathers in our lives Taking time to realize.

Fatherly love brings wealth to living Remembering this, we go forth in giving.

Fathers young, fathers old We remember you all As life unfolds." ~Susan Kramer~

Frank Ceely

Mike Bedick

Frank of Plains, MT recently underwent brain surgery to remove blood from his brain. Frank is a retired police officer of 33 years of service. A auction was recently held at the Plains, MT VFW to help raise money for his medical bills. To make a donation call/text Shelley Bertrand at 406207-9609 or call 406-826-4656. You may also call or text Michelle Ceely at 406-396-6084. Please lift Frank and his family up in your prayers as they work their way through these challenging times. Go to www.gofundme.com or his Facebook page to help Frank and his family out financially. Frank is going to require some very expensive tests that require large down payments. Frank’s wife Michelle not only needs financial support but your thoughts and prayers as well.

Mike of Plains, MT has dedicated his life to saving others so they may live.

Mike is also the President of the Sanders County Search & Rescue and works on the local ambulance service as an EMT. Mike teaches survival classes and EMT courses. Mike has been in a survival situation himself for a lengthy time with diabetes and his kidneys and pancreas were failing. Mike recently received the good news that a donor was available and is now in the Mayo Hospital in Rochester, New York. From all early indications the transplant was a success. However, Mike will be under a Doctor’s care for several months during his recovery. Please lift Mike and his family up in your prayers.

Go to www.gofundme.com or his Facebook page to help Mike and his family out financially as well. Mike has a wife and two kids.

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CAMERA CORNER

Rod Benders

By Kori Erickson If you had told Troy, MT teens Taylor and Allie Brown at this time last year that they would soon be filming and starring in their own fishing videos, they would have laughed at you. Both intellectually and athletically inclined, these girls are no strangers to being in the spotlight, but this is a whole new adventure for them.

They will tell you shyly that high school sophomore Allie has always loved fishing and used to cry if she didn’t get to go. While, senior Taylor just caught her first fish last summer, she picked it up so efficiently, you’d never guess she’s a novice.

Family friend, John Roark, runs NW Rod Benders Adventures and saw potential in the young girls. He’s since taken them all over the Northwest, fishing for silver salmon in the Columbia River to hometown bass and pike. He’s helped them get started with filming their adventures. They’ve obtained handful of sponsors, several cameras for their expeditions, including a couple Go Pros and a Water Wolf, a camera that attaches to the fishing line. These girls are geared up and ready to go!

They recently returned from a derby in Chelan, Washington fishing for Kokanee. Allie did the fishing and Taylor took her place behind the camera, including filming a couple sit down interviews. While she didn’t’ place, it was a lot of fun and a great learning experience. This summer, a coastal trip is a big desire for them both.

Allie said that her dream fish would be a big sturgeon on the Columbia River, while Taylor is super excited over the opportunity for ocean fishing. Catching bass, and “lots of them” is a current favorite for both girls. Recently, they were able to buy an aluminum fishing boat, which they lovingly named Ester, after the previous owner’s grandmother. They and Ester spend a lot of time on local Savage Lake in pursuit of “lots of” bass.

Their next set of adventures is planned for the Columbia River the first part of June, followed by a summer full of spinning reels. You can follow Taylor and Allie’s adventures on Instagram or YouTube under the name NWrodbenders or at www.nwrodbenders.com. Regardless of where these girls are, or what they’re catching, you can be sure it will be an adventure.

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