Fly Fishing the Big Hole River

written by Thomas Alton

Even though I have known about western fly fishing for a long time, I had never done it. In the New England town where I grew up, one Saturday a month my father would take my brother and me to get our haircut. In the magazine rack, there was always a Field & Stream or Outdoor Life that would catch my eye with photographs and a story inside of big brown trout caught on the tiniest of dry flies somewhere in Montana. We didn’t have fish around there near that size. And so, over the years it became a private obsession of mine, to one day step into a Montana river and cast dry flies to rising trout. I finally got the chance.

Montana Outfitters Dan "Rooster" Leavens and Greg Smith are co-owners of The Four Rivers Fishing Company, a professional fly fishing guide service located in Twin Bridges, Montana. With a staff of eight expert guides, they are dedicated to providing their clients with the best guided fly fishing experience that is available. They guide on five rivers in the area: The Beaverhead, Madison, Jefferson, Ruby, and the Big Hole. I didn’t know where I would be fishing, but I hoped it would be on the Big Hole.

Dan had graciously invited me to stay at his Stonefly Inn, just up the street from the Four Rivers Fly Shop. My cabin was cozy and felt just like home, complete with stove, refrigerator, and satellite TV. The Stonefly Inn is your best choice for RV hookups and cabin rentals in Twin Bridges. As you enter the city of Twin Bridges, It's the very first lodging you see when arriving from the north. The location was perfect. Right on Main Street. I could see the Four Rivers Fly Shop down the street on the left. If you get the chance, stay there. You won't be sorry. (At the end of my first day, all I did was lay down and I was asleep in less than twenty seconds!)

The next morning we met at the fly shop, and Dan drew up a plan of attack in preparation for a days worth of fly fishing.

These guys don’t just take you out and put you on a river and say “Go for it.” They exchange notes, ideas, and fly patterns, as well as a discussion about stretches of rivers that might fair better than others. They do NOT take their job lightly.

Guide Frank Kneeshaw reported that a few days ago, the water conditions on the upper Big Hole looked good, and that today should be a great day for fishing. With that information in hand, Rooster made his mind up where he and I would go. The upper portion of the Big Hole River would be our destination.

This is the High Road

Out of Twin Bridges a ways, we turned on to a dirt road.

"This here is the High Road." said Rooster. He told me this is the road that he uses to commute to work everyday. Winding through the valley, with hairpin turns and an occasional cattle crossing, we were on the High road for twenty five miles or so, for a good forty-five minutes.

As we were driving, Rooster explains the logic behind what motivates him to operate the best fly fishing guide service in Montana. He believes that giving the client the best fishing experience possible is priority one. He tells me, “People travel thousands of miles from all over the world to fish with The Four Rivers Fishing Company. We want to make sure that we give them a day fly fishing on the river that won’t soon be forgotten.”

After arriving at a local fly shop and arranging a shuttle, we were again on the road. The scenery was breathtaking, and I was transfixed by what I saw. Big rock formations come right down to the rivers edge. I felt like I was traveling to a time long passed. There was no one around except Dan, Dan's black lab Salty, and me. Even though that was the case, there was another presence looming large off to our right. It was the Big Hole River.

Montana time

“Montana time” is a strange thing to explain. It is a state of mind. Almost everything slows down. It doesn’t do you much good to look at your watch, because when you are on Montana time, you don’t really care what time it is. You seem to forget about how complex life can be. No cell phones. No computers. No deadlines. That day, I focused intently on where I was, and who I was with. I felt privileged. I then realized I was experiencing "Montana time."

We turned off into a parking area, and within minutes, Rooster had the drift boat in the water, and we moved the gear into it. He moved fast. With our waders on, we then got in the boat, shoved off, and slowly started drifting down the river.

Seams, slow water and foam lines

The water was high in the river, but the visibility was very good. I was coached all day about where to cast, and what to look for. We started off with a nymph, and I was admittedly slow to react to a hit. Not Rooster. He put the anchor down, made a couple of casts, and nailed a nice fish. “There he is”, he said softly. After a short while, he netted about an 18 inch brown trout. The fish was beautiful.

“This one is small. There’s more”. Rooster said, as he released it back into the current.

I was looking for seams of water where the foam line ended and the soft water began, where fish might be. The water was moving at a good clip mid-river, but towards the sides, it did not have the same speed. That is where the fish were. I missed one. And then I missed another. Suddenly I felt like a fool. The drift on my fly was wrong. I was dragging the fly, and I wasn't mending the line right.

Rooster told me, “The fly has to drift as though it were part of the current. These fish are pretty smart here. Once they see the fly doesn’t look right, you can put it right in front of them, and they’ll let it pass. The drift of your fly is the most important thing.”

We pulled off to the side of the river, let the anchor out, and climbed out of the boat. “Let’s wade and hit that water and fish back to the boat.” He grabbed his fly rod, and took off back up the river. “Follow me.”

I guess I learn better from watching someone, so I kept my eye on him. I missed my third fish, and then finally hooked up. He comes down with the net and gets the fish. “It’s a big brook trout” he says. He estimated the size at about 14 inches. A good size for the Big Hole. We look at the fish for a moment, before he put it back into the water. I was off the snide.

Five minutes later, he had a big fish on. He easily landed a beautiful brown, at least 22 inches long. It was one of the biggest browns I had ever seen. I grabbed the camera and snapped some photographs of it, before he slid the fish back into the water.

For the next hour, we cruised down the river, and the sun played hide and seek with us, peeking out from the billowy clouds passing overhead. For every three or four I would miss, I would hook one. I might even be stretching those numbers some, but you get the idea. I wasn’t doing well. For every seven casts I made, I’d get one right, and would be commended for doing so. The river had plenty of fish, and Rooster seemed to know where all off them were. I was rusty, but Rooster worked diligently with me to improve my techniques, and with his help, I started catching fish.

Mid afternoon, we stopped and pulled up to the side of the river. We ate our packed lunches, and had a soft drink. Despite not doing well in the fish catching department, I was having a heck of a good time. The weather was nice, hot and sunny, and there is a smattering of caddis fluttering about. Rooster looked around, smiled and said, “There just might be a big caddis hatch in a while. Let’s get moving.”

He guided the drift boat down in to a part of the Big Hole where the river splits up, into three and sometimes four channels. We anchored the boat and got out. There were some soft water and foam lines that needed some attention. I cast my nymph into the foam, and it sank down. I made the right mend, feeding line out. Suddenly, I saw my strike indicator disappear. I jerked back, and felt a fish. I did it! This wasn’t just a normal sized fish. This one was HUGE! This was the one I had come to Montana for. This one had my name on it!

Rooster came back to where I was. “Give him some line! That’s a big fish!” The five weight in my hands was doubled almost in half, and the reel started to sing as the fish moved down the river. Suddenly I was looking at bright orange backing going through the guides. Rooster jumped into the boat, and yelled “Let’s chase him! You aren’t going to get that one back up here. Jump in! Quick! ”

I was in the front of the boat, and moments later, we were steaming down the Big Hole, as if being dragged by a monster brown trout. He’s 300 feet down the river. I started to pray out loud.. “Lord – let me catch this one. Please Lord.”

I could hear Rooster behind me. “That’s a big damned fish!” he exclaimed. “He’s way down there!”

I kept the rod tip high, and the line was taught. Was I doing everything right? I hoped so! Five minutes or so went by, but I was on Montana time, and so those five minutes felt like an hour. I somehow managed to reel in all the backing, and about twenty feet of fly line. I felt hopeful. Suddenly the line went limp, and the intense pressure on the rod disappeared. My heart sank.

He was gone.

I heard Rooster's voice through the haziness that had fogged my brain inside of my head. “Reel it in, let’s put on another fly. There’s plenty more that size in here.”

That was Rooster for you. A great guy capable of elevating me up out of my disappointment. A great friend of mine told me once that there are two types of people in your life - those that bring you up, and those that bring you down. Rooster was definitely the former. That's just his way.

Snowing backwards

I collected my thoughts, and again sat down in front of the boat. We were moving down the river once again. The sun was behind us, and the little wind that we had experienced through the day dwindled. It was dead calm, and all I could hear was the rushing water as we knifed slowly down the left side of the river. All at once, the air was alive with caddis, and they were everywhere. It was like snow, but in reverse. I had a vision of an Outdoor Life magazine in my head. I had waited most of my life for this. A caddis hatch on the Big Hole, and we were in the thick of it. That big trout I had lost was a fast, fading memory.

I looked down the side of the river, and ahead of me in the soft water I could see trout sipping caddis off the surface. Not just one or two – but about ten trout. Some of the rises were violent, and some were just soft dimples in the water. No matter. They were feeding, some voraciously.

Rooster was busy picking out a fly, and then quickly tied on a size 16 caddis, and said, “Okay. Pick a fish. Don’t just cast in blind. Pick one and focus on that one.”

I did as he instructed. I had already picked one out. I watched the water, false casting, and waiting for my target to rise again. He came up, and the water boiled. My next cast landed about 12 inches from his position, and the fly floated down, swirling momentarily, as if it was lost.

One second went by, and then the water erupted. He inhaled it. I lifted the rod tip, and he was there. Fish on.

A few moments later, I got it to the net, and it was a nice 20 inch rainbow. We gently put it back in the water, and then started searching for another rising fish. I look at Dan, and said “Get your rod.” He grinned, and got his fly rod out, tied on a dry, and started false casting. It didn’t take him long before he picked a fish out, laid the fly almost right on top of it, and hooked up on a nice brown.

And so it went. I had been waiting for a fly fishing experience like this for over forty years. We worked the area for about an hour, and when it slowed down, Rooster simply pulled the anchor in and repositioned the boat about sixty feet down the river. We doubled up a few times, and I missed a few more fish, but it was an experience that I will never, ever forget.

We stopped fishing only because we were losing daylight. Rooster pulled up the anchor, and slowly began drifting down the river, until we saw Rooster’s truck parked at the takeout area. We pulled the boat out there, and got it on the trailer. On the way back, I replayed highlights of the day in my head. The countless fish I had caught, that huge trout that had raced down the river knowing he would eventually be the victor. It was a great day. Even though I was tired and worn out, I was anxious to fish this river again.

A different river, a different day

One of the guides at the fly shop had told me his thoughts about fishing the famed Big Hole River. He said “It doesn’t matter how many times you fished it, because every time you step into the Big Hole, it’s always a different river."

When we finally got back to Twin Bridges, Rooster told me “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re going back out again. It will be a different day.”

Montana's Big Hole River gives and takes. With my humble thanks to my good friend Dan "Rooster" Leavens, and the professionalism of the staff at The Four Rivers Fishing Company Guide Service, on this day the river gave me a wonderful memory that I will never, ever forget.

Of that, I am sure.

T. Alton