TheCatch: BIGFISH

Armed with artificial flies that seemed way too big to imitate any real fly I've ever seen, I'm off to meet river rat and Paws Up guide Erik Oline and stalwart photographer Stuart Thurlkill. Around 6:00PM, we launch our three-seat river raft at the confluence of Clearwater and Blackfoot Rivers, planning to float down to the Outlaw takeout. As we're arriving, an osprey flies by, clutching a foot-long whitefish in its talons. I take it as a sign of epic fishing to come.

As we approach the first stand of salmonfly-lined willows along the shoreline, Oline says, "Put it right under those willows."

"Now mend. And mend again." It is a simple set of instructions we'll hear over and over: gentle reminders to mend our fly lines by simply whipping a loopy "O" back upstream, so the fly line never drifts past the fly, pulling it in an unnatural manner.

Suddenly, everyone is yelling. "Fish!" is all I hear. Something has inhaled my Chubby Chernobyl, a foamy floater with hints of red and a highly visible white tuft. Setting the hook, I hear Oline say, "Big fish, big fish!"—not for the last time on a magical evening. Finally coming to net is a gorgeous 16+ inch rainbow trout, it’s pink and blue sides flashing in the sun. It's probably eager to get back in the water and ambush more salmonflies.

Thurlkill and I look at each other, nodding: We know this is not going to be an ordinary evening of fishing. A cedar waxwing seems to agree, trilling a few notes from her perch on a willow branch.

"Oh, high alert; this is a real fishy area," I hear Oline say as another oversized fish, this time a native cutthroat, swirls and slams my fly. Struggling to bring it to the boat, I'm relieved when Oline deftly nets the twisting salmonid. I catch the slash of red at the gill plate and throat, confirming the species. Not long after, another big fish chows down on my fly, this time an oversized cutbow, a hybrid of the two species.

Later, Oline, a nature lover and savvy guide, will say it was an epic day of hatching and fishing: as good as it gets. Small wonder the fly-fishing guides like to stick close to the river during big hatches, crashing as close as they can to the big bugs. "Yeah, I pretty much lived in my car one year when these flies were hatching," he says.

On our last drift of the day, as I'm fumbling with a tangle of my dry fly and a trailing nymph, Thurlkill has stopped taking photos long enough to hook the biggest fish of the trip: a trophy-sized 18-inch rainbow he unhooks and lets swim off to fight another day.

That day’s success would be contrasted by what greeted us following evening. Temperatures dropped 16 degrees. The wind picked up. And the salmonflies quit hatching, at least for the day. (Oline would tell me later that after I left, thunderstorms turned the river back into chocolate milk.) The big fish seemed to opt out with them, simply swirling at our flies, only mildly interested.

But even a slow day on the Blackfoot emphasizes the peacefulness of Montana. And presents plenty of time for fish stories.

"Fishing this river, I caught the biggest trout I’ve ever seen," Oline begins. "After a bruising fight, I managed to work a monster 35-inch bull trout to shore. As I was gently releasing it, I noticed an odd chunk out of its anal fin, maybe from an otter attack." But this fish tale isn't done. "The next year, on the same stretch of water, I hooked another mighty fish. Finally getting it in, I saw that very same notch on the 35-inch bull trout."

After that last night’s fishing, I stopped by Charlie B’s in Missoula, the local fisherman hangout, for a celebratory cocktail. I felt like a local, telling people about the hatch and talking fly-fishing and big trout. As I mentioned flies wiggling around in trout bellies to an old timer he said, "That’s nuthin." Simms cap slightly askew, he started talking about a time back in the day when bull trout were legal to keep. "I remember a friend of mine cutting open a big ol’ bull trout. In its belly he didn’t find wiggling flies—nope, more like five rainbow trout."

Not a bad ending for an epic trip. Not bad at all.