January 22, 2010
The following contains one anglers commentary on the Beaverhead River derived from his appreciation after years of fishing its water.
Why I Love the Beaverhead
From a River filled with Bowling Ball sized Trout...not rocks.
“…I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers.” In a letter George Washington wrote to his friend Marquis de Lafayette dated February 1, 1784.
Every river in southwest Montana is scenic, the most scenic being the Madison, followed by the Big Hole, and the Beaverhead, well it has it’s moments, particularly High Bridge to Barrett. A trout fisherman who needs scenery has surely lost his way, because the purpose of a fisherman on any of Montana’s rivers is to fish – doing this well does not allow for minor distractions no matter how glorious.
Thirty years ago, youth and a sense of adventure overcame the reality that wading most rivers in Montana was no different than walking on cannonballs that have been covered in motor oil, in a strong current as well. Walking beside some of these rivers is so treacherous that people are known to have landed face down in the rocks on dry ground on the banks of the Big Hole. However, to the exclusion of all others, the Beaverhead is primarily a sandy bottom creek rather than one whose bottom is littered with underwater treacheries. Defaulting to wisdom therefore requires that one only forsake a brief salmon fly hatch on the Madison and the Big Hole in favor of the personal safety and the voluminous hatches of other insects you find on our favorite river.
Fishing any of the rivers in southwest Montana under ideal conditions is akin to being on the edge of Paradise. Conditions in Montana can and have changed so abruptly so many times, that it did not take 30 years of trips to isolate the one river that separates itself from the others in all conditions and that is the Beaverhead. It has even been known to be productive in the severest of droughts.
However desiring as all do, to cross over into Paradise while in this life, being on the Beaverhead when conditions are perfect can put one across the line that separates this world from the next. The clarity of the water, the way the sunlight glints off its surface, the brief delights on each side of the river, the way one moves along in running current, all enjoyed while catching dozens of wild trout, some quite large, can move a fisherman into a peace that surpasseth all understanding.
If this seems to Biblical, then consider the way science confirms religion on the Beaverhead: when the river was at its peak. Some years ago, a fish count proved that there were over 140 20” fish to the mile, one every 35-40 feet. One moves from the literal back into the metaphysical on a good day when either the trout caught, or those seen support the findings of a scientific electroshocking.
The river will soon fully recover from a severe drought and when it does, the fish count will return to its former glory as will the fishing, which never got too thin when drought conditions were at their thickest. If one is fortunate enough to blunder into the sort of guides it was our good luck to encounter for three decades, then you may come to the same conclusion three generations of us have, one of whom has already slipped down the river of life and gone to join his ancestors – if you want a little bit of heaven in this life, float the Beaverhead.
