Independence Day brought a wealth of adventures to the village of Craig.
Fireworks.
Drift boats.
Pool toys.
Hot dogs.
Beer.
Flaming Stetsons.
Oh yeah, and trout. A plethora of trout.
The festivities were on full speed, and Headhunters and Joe’s Bar seemed to vie for the crowds. Joe’s had alcohol. We had free food and free alcohol.
So, yeah, the cool kids hung out at the fly shop.
The fireworks started early in the day (a celebratory firecracker chain at 1000h to be exact), but really came into effect as people relaxed and hung out for the evening after a day of fishing. Mark held down the grill with hot dogs, hamburgers and grilled s’mores while John and shop rat Travis took on the plentiful duties of fireworks masters.
Inspired by some YouTube video footage, John’s GoPro went head-on with some pretty serious fireworks action. The footage should prove interesting.
Let’s just say it was an evening filled with sparklers, happy kids, fellowship and laughter. As always in Craig, there was lots of fishing chatter, but people seemed pretty content to let the river lie for the evening and just hang.
Of note, an old Stetson that has been hanging around the property – somehow moving from place to place (last week it was by the horseshoe pit; it migrated to a drift boat and then to the wooden fence) – died a rather noble death bursting into flames while covering a kid’s smoke bomb.
You don’t see that every day.
As the light finally faded near 2300h, mortars and the larger fireworks started in earnest. Once more Headhunters and Joe’s seemed to vie, endlessly trading volley for volley. Groups of friends gathered along the main street to watch the action, and for once ranchers mixed with anglers, laughing and grinning all the way.
I ended the evening lying on the railroad tracks, playing with some long exposures, hoping to capture a bit of the spirit of the holiday but also of Craig.
And, in the falling darkness, gunshots going off alongside fireworks (there was talk of live grenades at Joe’s in previous years, but I heard nothing of it this year), Craig was an iconic little bit of Americana.
Rough and ready. Dirty. Basic. Full of caddis and home to more than one feral cat and stray snake.
Certainly home to more than one stray fly fisherman.
But, in the technicolor light of the fireworks, it was a little slice of our Montana heritage.
