Poindexter Slough

 

poindexter slough

 

 

In early May I spent a week on the Missouri river. Around mid week the wind became so bad I decided to head south and fish a public spring creek that I've wanted to check out: Poindexter Slough. My head swivelled the first time I caught a glimpse of it while travelling at 120km on Interstate 15 near Dillon heading to Idaho. The highway passes right over the creek. What I saw was an alluring flat water creek, slinking into the distance with stands of willows along the edges of all the snaking S-curves. I remember thinking, like a number of other rivers I've seen while travelling over the years, that I have to come back and fish it. Most of the time I do get back. I'll research the water I've seen, find a nearby campground or inexpensive lodging, call some regional fly shops, if there are any, check out the hatches, and plan a trip. Sometimes, however, I don't get back. For instance, I haven't returned to the Malleo river in Argentina. I drove along it for many miles and thought it was one of the most amazing stretches of water I had ever seen. It looked like the perfect trout stream. Unfortunately I was returning to Santiago for a flight home and had absolutely no time to spare. I promised myself I'd return and fish it, but never did. Patagonia is a long, long way to go. Maybe one day I will dip my wading boots in that beautiful river near Junin de los Andes.

But back to the Slough. I arrived in Dillon mid afternoon after an easy two and one half hour drive from Craig, Montana. The wind was still blowing hard so I went to one of several fly shops in town. The fellow behind the counter was tying Bonefish/ Permit flies: a crab pattern. He was very tanned for early May in the Rockies. I figured he had recently been flats fishing somewhere in the tropics. It looked like he maybe going again. Many fly shops host Winter and Spring saltwater trips. He informed me the Slough had been a little off colour lately. He said there were reports of a bit of an afternoon Caddis hatch. Then his mind went elsewhere: to the Bahamas, Belize, the Keys or some exotic Pacific atoll, as he carefully glued rubber legs on the felt crab body. He had a number of round quarter sized tan coloured felt pieces lined up on his tying table. He was production tying a whole bunch of them. An army of crabs for his next tropical assault. He gave me directions to the Slough and told me there about three access sights. He said I should go to the third. It was good advice.

I asked him about public access to two other spring creeks in the region that I had read about. As he put the finishing details on his crab pattern with a permanent marker he informed me the creeks were all on private property. He swivelled the crab 360 degrees in his hand and eyed it carefully. A pleased look came over his face. He liked his creation. While he was doing this I referred to a Google map I had memorised and asked him if it would be legal to access one of the creeks by parking in a public area in the town of Twin Bridges, walking along on the Beaverhead river to where the spring creek entered and then fishing it upstream from there. He looked up at me, mouth open and thinking, and then put the crab pattern down. He was back from the tropics. He said, " You know I've fished here for forty years, but I've never done that".

I bought some tippet material as a gesture of thanks for his information, asked him about the campground I was going to stay at, and left so that he could get back to a different latitude. In the parking lot I thought: "Was that Jimmy Buffet playing in the background?" The wind was still blowing so I headed to the campground. At the check in counter I was greeted by a very friendly, somewhat hypo manic, chubby lady. She told me where I could camp, where the showers were, gave me the Wi Fi code and went through the dizzying one hundred or so campground rules. While reciting them she kept offering me chocolates saying that I could put more "meat on my bones"! My Grandmother used to say the same thing. In a short time I had travelled from Margaritaville to my Nana's kitchen in Ville LaSalle, Quebec where I would eat home baked desserts and drink tea. Although I'd been in Dillon for less than one hour I kind of liked the place.

I took a few pictures of the creek late afternoon in the big blow and fished it the next day in full sun and still somewhat off colour. There was a bit of a Caddis hatch in the afternoon and some Olives came off. There were few risers. The fish I spotted were on Caddis flies. They were bank fish, feeding sporadically in the shade. All were Brown trout. They were around ten inches to one foot long. The one I landed was in a very difficult undercut spot with some grass overhang. The only way to get him was to tease him out an inch or so beyond the dangling grass. I had to cast well to connect with him. The fish fought for his life and I had to hold him in a gentle flow for what seemed several minutes before he revived.

poindexter slough brown trout

I never did try to access the other creek. I kind of had the feeling I might run into some lean, mean rancher with a big belt buckle. And although I'm lean, I'm not mean...unless of course I'm playing street hockey. Then I can stick hack and chop with the best of them.

I'll go back to the Slough and fish it again.

 

 

Trout in Frog Water

"It is good for the soul to follow through on your eccentric interests and mad inclinations"
 --Thomas Moore

missouri river

The trout were ultra picky. It was driving me crazy. Summer temperatures, 80F, in early May. One day it hit 87F. The full sun didn't help. It made things real challenging in the shallow, flat water I was on. And it was suppressing the Springtime hatches. But there were a few bugs on the water: some Midges in the morning and tiny size 20 Olives in the afternoon. Occasionally even an "easy on the eyes" big March Brown drifted by. There was hope.

missouri river

The trout were shy to rise and when they did feed it was subtle. They were mainly on emergers but occasionally some broke the meniscus. I thought they might be small as they didn't displace much water when they surfaced. I continued to watch as I've fished long enough to know some very large trout can feed like a Guppy.

It was tough to get close to them mid day. The low angled morning and late afternoon light allowed me to see better and get tighter. What I saw, I liked. Wading was also challenging. Take a step in the flat water and a wake travelled 50 yards.

missouri r, pelican pt.

I tried a variety of small fly patterns. Stuff that I usually connect with was often ignored. The rises were often irregular. There were no easy greedy rhythmic feeders. Many of the natural bugs that floated along with my impressions also received little attention. And then every once in a while a large trout would tip up and eat. They wanted what they wanted and I was trying to figure it out. I tossed cripples, spinners, hackle stackers, half hackles, no hackles... I thought about drag and tried different presentation angles...5x, then 6x tippet....then a black beetle, and on and on it went....multiple patterns, many fly changes.

creative river access from interstate hwy

Every night and early morning I tied different patterns and went back to the spot. Nothing was easy. I got blown off the water on two days, picked up my gear and drove two hours south to Dillon to fish a small public spring creek called Poindexter Slough. When the wind subsided I returned. My expensive waders started leaking like the Titanic. I was carrying an extra ten pounds of sloshing weight on my right leg. One day I lost three spools of tippet, then the next day my nymph/emerger box mysteriously disappeared. I haven't done that in years. It also seemed I was making every conceivable angling mistake: frequent line tangles, blown knots, snapping leaders. I pulled a fly prematurely out of a very big mouth.

Sometimes I timed my strike well but the tiny fly simply slipped out with no contact whatsoever, or I nicked a fish but unfortunately no hook-up. These are some of the tribulations of small fly angling. At times I lost complete confidence in my flies. In fishing, like other areas of life, confidence is often fickle. One afternoon I hooked a very large brown that I had been targeting. Late in the fight he circled me twice. As I was getting prepared to net him the 6x gave way and off he swam. I screamed, "No" and almost tossed my rod in the river.

It was mesmerising, shallow water angling. Some of the best and most challenging, slow water sight fishing I have ever experienced. The trout, mainly browns, were feeding in one to two feet of water. I spent the last four days mid stream in full sun stalking them on my knees. I even waded on my knees along the silt bottom to get closer and solve drag problems. The flies I tied became sparser and sparser. Eventually, they were simply a hook with a bit of thread, a slightly built up thorax region, two microfibbets for tails, and simple wings, tied upright or flush. A downstream and across presentation  (fly first) seemed to work best... sometimes! The odd cloud helped. I kept whispering to myself  "hang in there, browns are simply different cats." I did hang in there and made some connections.

missouri river brown trout

Hours on the river passed like minutes. Only the failing light alerted me it was time to reel in, return to the campground, fuel my body and sleep. I had to remind myself there would be another day, a tomorrow.

My last day there I fished a different location in the morning. Then I returned to where I had spent most of the week. A car was parked there and I saw an angler returning to his vehicle from the river. I asked the sixty year old plus fellow in the fully loaded Simms vest if he had been the only one down at the river? He replied there had been another fellow earlier but he had left. He told me where he had fished and that he had caught a couple. Then he said he changed spots and described a different location where he saw the odd riser. It was the location I had spent most of the week on. He said the fish there weren't interested in his flies and he wasn't even sure they were trout. He called the spot, "Frog Water ". We both laughed.

Here are some snaps of hard earned brown and rainbow trout caught on size 20 flies in "Frog Water".

missouri river rainbow trout

missouri river brown trout

old rainbow with frayed dorsal fin