I wanted this day to be low impact so I could be well rested for the hike out tomorrow. There was still a good looking stretch of water on the other side of the bridge that I hadn’t tried yet and it was pretty easy to access. I didn’t get up and around too early (I was getting the hang of this relaxing vacation thing)! I took all my clothes that needed washing down to the river/Laundromat and gave them the treatment. Some of the rivers I’ve been in would make this a revolting prospect, but the water in the Flathead River is cleaner than most laundry rooms ever see. I brought everything back to camp and strung them up on the clothes line so they would dry in the sun. After cleaning up the area a little, I walked over to the bridge to survey the area. About half dozen campers had pulled their rafts in for the night and set up a few tents across the river. Outfitters will take rafters through the Bob for as many days as they book on a guided trip. They can pull out at several places along the river to camp, hike, swim, fish, or do whatever. The outfitters will fix meals for them and do whatever else can make it a good experience. It’s a great way to see the Bob if you can afford it. But they don’t get out of bed for less than a few thousand dollars.
A man and his son were fly fishing in the run where I wanted to try, but they didn’t look too intense. I figured he would probably leave in the afternoon and I would have the place to myself. It was the water right across from the spot where I had caught thirteen a few days ago. The river makes a slow left turn there, leaving a deep trough in the middle but calmer water on both sides. Fishing the opposite bank from across the river wasn’t practical because the water in the middle was so fast.
I ate a leisurely lunch and walked over the bridge. As I had predicted, the other fisherman had left and I again had the river to myself. I started upstream and slowly worked down to the bend. I tried the flies I picked up at the Grizzly Hackle Fly shop in Missoula on day one. The crippled emerger (which I later learned is called Dave’s Cripple) was a big hit with the cutthroats. It’s a combination of a dry fly that floats on the surface but a portion, like the casing that the fly would emerge from, is just under the surface. I only had three and I eventually lost all of them to break offs, trees, or just wear and tear. I also tried the big Red Humpy. I got a few strikes at it, but nothing hit hard. I wondered if it was still too big. The Royal Coachman did much better. I fished for several hours in a hundred yard strip of the river and caught ten. A good streamer fisherman would have pulled some lunkers out of the deep water. Too bad I didn’t have one with me! Maybe next time.
I had paused to take a dip in some shoulder-deep water and get cooled off. Nothing feels better on a hot afternoon! I sat on a rock in the sun while I dried off. It was a beautiful view. I didn’t want to leave the next morning, but I was also concerned about the hike back out. If it was as strenuous as the hike in, I wanted the option of taking an extra day if needed. Besides, I had plenty of fishing options once I got back to the car in case I got back early. I was running a little low on food also. Not enough to cause a panic, but the idea of eating something that wasn’t freeze dried had become increasingly appealing.
I went back to camp to get things ready. I wanted to pack up as much as possible before morning so I could get underway quickly. I couldn’t actually load my pack until the tent was down, but I could get things organized to streamline the process. As I approached camp I saw a guy riding a horse and leading a five mule pack train. He worked for the forest service just like Bill, moving animals in and out of the wilderness to supply the work crews. I waved to him and he stopped the train to talk with me. All of the forest service personnel I met were refreshingly eager to interact with people. They seemed to really understand that their job was to maintain the forest for the public. It wasn’t a bother for them; it was why they were there. His name was – I’m not kidding – Forest. I asked him about some of the little tabs that had been attached to many of the trees around the cabin.
He told me they were pheromones that are used to keep the bark beetles from infesting trees. Apparently they give off a scent that makes other bark beetles think that particular tree is already occupied, so they don’t set up a home there. I don’t know who discovers these things, but it’s pretty fascinating!
The sky had changed from deep blue to white for the first time. I asked Forest if he had heard a weather forecast. He said a low front was moving in and rain may be coming tomorrow. I had been blessed with great weather all week. I wasn’t excited about hiking out in the rain, but at least I wasn’t doing anything interesting that I would have to cancel.
I went back to the tent and made dinner. I ate two packages of spaghetti, which actually equals four servings. The hike out was going to be demanding, so loading on carbs seemed like a good idea. For the first time, I couldn’t see the stars or moon at night so it didn’t bother me to put on the rain cover. I had gathered up all my laundry and packed up everything either inside the tent or the vestibule. I wanted to get started as early as possible, but I knew I would need at least an hour to pack up. Eight o’clock seemed like a reasonable time to shoot for. I closed my eyes and tried to get to sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day.
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