Eddie Olwell
I usually chuckle when someone tells me they have a secret fishing spot.
How many times have you had a friend say, “now don’t tell anyone about this place?” Thanks to the increasing popularity of fly fishing, social media and the movie “A River Runs Through It,” trout fishing in Montana is on the radar.
This phenomenon tends to be a bit of a double-edged sword. On one hand, rivers are more crowded then in the past, but many of these same rivers are cleaner with more wild and native trout.
Fly fishing brings millions of dollars into our local economies and someone like me can make a living in the industry.
A friend recently emailed an article in the New York Times that described growth in fly fishing on the Madison River as “Rivergeddon.” The article highlights an increase in already high angler use as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. Locals are spending more time on the water while urbanites across the country are seeking refuge in rural America.
I started fishing the Madison as a kid in the '70s. I remember thinking that the only people who fly fished were old men. At the time if you saw a car or two at a pullout you’d move to another spot.
Today it’s common to see 25-30 cars parked at the $3 bridge. Conversations about Montana fly fishing not only include hatches and tactics, but also conflict between float and wader fishermen and the need for more commercial regulation.
I am of the belief that there are no "secret spots" left. However, I do believe making a bit of an effort can reward a fly fisher with solitude and fish. Taking a contrarian approach to fly fishing can be a beneficial tactic as well. Instead of fishing the East and West forks when everyone is chasing the salmon fly hatch, fish the main Bitterroot and you’ll see a lot less people.
My friend Jeremiah’s invitation to his secret spot last month was obviously met with some skepticism on my part. He had been talking about a secret creek and promised to invite me if I swore an oath to secrecy.
Surprisingly, he mentioned this might be a good topic for my next column. I could only say it’s somewhere in Montana. So on the day we left for "Secret Creek" I put one had on the Bible and the other on my heart and promised I would never divulge the whereabouts of this special place.
I wondered if he’d force me to wear a blindfold for the ride as Bruce Wayne did to visitors before entering the bat cave. He told me it would be a two-mile hike involving a few hill climbs. Not a problem I thought as I was in decent shape. Although sitting in a boat most days of summer and fall didn’t help.
Jeremiah had done his research and found the creek on state land surrounded by two large private parcels. Through his scouring of maps and GPS he found a narrow strip of state land between the two parcels that would give us legal access to the creek.
We drove to the spot and sure enough there was a sign on the barbwire fence declaring this was in fact state land. We hiked across wide open land on which cows outnumbered trees across the meadow and up a long hill. When we finally reached the top, I looked down into a beautiful canyon with numerous rock spires and tall pines.
In the middle of the canyon lay a thin ribbon of sparkling water, the secret creek. My thoughts and concerns about the climb out of the canyon were quickly overridden by excitement and anticipation of the fish to be caught. We quickly descended into the canyon, dropped our packs, strung fly rods and donned waders.
We planned to fish streamers as it was November and there wouldn’t be any dry fly activity. Jeremiah set me up in the first good hole. He was surprised when I failed to move a fish and attributed it to the fact my leader was too long and the sink tip on the end of my floating line was overkill.
I sat on the grass removed the sink tip and shortened the leader to my streamer, an olive sparkle minnow. In the time it took me to re-rig Jeremiah pulled four nice trout out of the hole, including a 16” brown. I finally got my rhythm and began catching fish. We took turns fishing the pools and pulled two to four fish out of each good hole.
The tactic was to let the streamer sink down through the icy water and slowly retrieve the fly with pauses. Most of the fish we caught were browns and brookies. The biggest brown was about 18” and the brookies were between 10-14”. A 9” brook trout was big on the small streams I used to fish back east.
I haven’t kept a fish in years and we decided to keep a couple brookies for dinner. Before you call the catch and release police, the limit on brook trout is 20. Brook trout are nonnative, voracious eaters, and out compete other wild and native fish. Besides, they originate from the Appalachian Mountains.
I figured no one would mind if I rid Montana of a few east coast invaders like myself. Looking at the fish adorned in full spawning colors, I wondered if maybe they were descended from those same small Catskill mountain streams I fished as a boy.
When the sun left the canyon and a cold wind picked up we decided it was time leave. I wasn’t looking forward to the climb out which was the steepness of Soft Rock in Corvallis and twice the distance. My lungs burned and legs ached as we climbed. A small price to pay for the great fishing I had just experienced.
When we reached the top I looked back into the canyon and across the adjacent mountains now aglow in orange light of the setting sun. The realization became apparent that I was wrong and there still are a few secret places out there. You may have to work hard but the benefits far out way the effort. This is one secret I’ll be sure to keep.
Disclaimer: This story is based on true events. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and their secrets.
Eddie Olwell of Stevensville's Fishs Eddy O has been fishing the waters of western Montana since 1977 and guiding since 1999. Olwell writes a regular column for the Ravalli Republic called Fish Tales.
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December 06, 2020 at 08:00PM
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Fish tales: A trip into "Secret Creek" - Ravalli Republic
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