There are certain places that are woven into the fabric of fly fishing, those kinds of places you can mention to anglers anywhere and they will nod their heads and know about. Many of those places just happen to be within a few short hours of where I sit writing this now. One of them has been sadly neglected by myself for too long… The Missouri.
The Missouri is widely regarded as some of the best dry fly fishing for trout anywhere in North America, even the world. There are more fish per mile than anywhere else in the state, and they are bigger and feistier than in any other river around here. It’s one of those places you can look downstream and realize that riffle you’re watching is actually a giant pod of fish daintily eating bugs off the surface. Amazing.
Craig is about two and a half hours from the house and up until this year it was beyond the reach of my unreliable vehicles. And it’s best fished from a boat, which I don’t have. So when Brantley asked if I wanted to go up there with him last week, I couldn’t say no. You know it’s going to be a good fishing trip when you leave the house at just after 4am.
Brantley knows the Mo very well, having spent years fishing it and working in one of the shops up in Craig. He’s one of those people you talk to for a few minutes and think, “This guy would be fun to spend the day in a drift boat with”. The reports were good… With lots of trout up top eating Tricos, PMDs, and Caddis.
We met up at The Trout Shop, and decided on a good, long float; one that would be away from the bulk of people and guide boats. (For the record, I can’t stand fishing in crowds). We got the boat in the water, loaded his old dog Kizmet up, and headed out. Looking downstream you could see columns of Tricos in the air, looking almost like campfire smoke.
We couldn’t have asked for a prettier day. It was bluebird sunny and hot with not a cloud to be seen until we were driving back to Craig. A beautiful day, but not the best for fishing. Nevertheless, we were able to find pod after pod of rising fish. If there is any place where the fish will make you start talking to yourself, it’s the Mo. Perfect drifts over feeding fish were refused or ignored, time and again. We eventually dialed it in and were able to get some eats.
Time seems to slow down as you watch that big nose come up behind your fly and then slowly close around it. That momentary hesitation as you wait for the trout to close its jaws before you set the hook stretches to an eternity. Then you set the hook, feel that big head shake, and watching that fish rocket out of the water. It’s one of those things that will replay endlessly in your head if you let it. Life, at least from what I have experienced yet, doesn’t really get much better than that.
Between pods of rising fish, I had my rod rigged with a nymph set up. As sacrilegious as it may seem to throw nymphs in the summer on the Missouri, I was excited to try the few Bug Collar flies I had tied up. (If you don’t know about Bug Collars yet, check them out here.) I was not disappointed. An olive bead head soft hackle with an orange Bug Collar seemed to be the winner, until I lost it in the bushes. The interesting thing was this.. Right after that, I put on the same fly with no collar and didn’t get a single hit. Hmm…
There is always that nagging feeling on longer days like this that you have forgotten something. This time it was sunscreen. When you feel the tops of your knees start hurting about 2:00 in the afternoon, and realize you forgot to put some on, you’re pretty much screwed. Ouch.
My best fish of the day was also my last. Coming up on the take out, I was lazily fishing a Parachute Adams off the bank, not really hoping for much. The aggressive take surprised the hell out of me. Measuring him out on my arm, the brown was a solid 19”. Not huge by Missouri River standards, but it was a great one to end the day on. Photo credit for those pics of me and the fish goes to Brantley Persons.
By the end of the day we were both tired, sunburned, a little buzzed on cheap beer, and smelled like sweat, good cigars, and fish. Another damn good day for the books.
