Last week I went to check out a house in Darby, MT. I don’t need much. I’m fairly minimal in my needs. Today I’m all settled in. Though, truth be told, I moved in yesterday. I would have posted but was having fun exploring the areas.
Darby is a rather small town in the heart of the Bitterroot Valley. And when I say small, I mean don’t blink or you’ll drive right through it, albeit at twenty-five mph, or risk getting a citation by the town marshal, who really has little patience with speedsters. The town itself has that old rustic feel to it, a throwback to an old western town fused with modern accoutrements. Main street, which is really just highway 93, is lined with wood sided buildings which look like were built in the 1800s. In fact, take away the paved roads and modern signage and it could certainly play as a period town.
My house is a nice size one bedroom, one bath. I have quite a large plot of land for what it is. If I lived here full time, I could be comfortable in a place like this.
After I was settled in, I took time to do a little exploration of the surrounding wilderness. Off the beaten path is ole’ Darby Bridge.
For this picture, I was standing at a put-in spot for fishermen. The water is flowing pretty fast this time of year, but in about a month it’ll slow considerably, and will be a fairly common sight to see rafts floating down the river with guides and clients pursuing the various species of fish in this section. I too will be a client sometime in June or July. I’m going to be here several months; I want to try it out.
When it comes to fly fishing, I’m a Tenkara fisherman. This time, while I’m out here, I’m going to take some fly fishing classes. I’ve always wanted to fly fish, but was reluctant to pick it up, because, well, I know me. I tend to have an addictive personality with my outdoor pursuits and end up dumping a lot of money into it. I reckon it’s pretty similar to golfers.
Because I fish Tenkara, I wanted to find some good streams. My exploration led me to Tin Cup Creek, about three miles above town into the Bitterroot wilderness. The creek is flowing pretty fast, but still couldn’t pass up an opportunity to fish it, if even for just a little while.
I grabbed both my spinning rod and Tenkara rod. I strapped on my Fishpond chest rig; loaded with an assortment of flies, nymphs, and lures. I also had my Glock 21 easily accessible in the inner pocket of my chest rig. I’m not from this area, but know there are grizzlies, moose, mountain lions, and wolves. I’m not saying they are where I was at, but it pays to be better safe than sorry. That said, I did run into several skeletal remains of some sort of ruminant animal, perhaps deer.
“What the hell was that?” My heart was literally jumping out of my chest. I turned to see a mountain grouse breakout from the underbrush. “Damn! I can’t be this jumpy. I’m getting too old and my ticker may not be able to handle getting startled like this.” Eeesh! this is the problem with knowing just enough to fill your head with nonsense. Oh and the skeletal remains don’t help quelch the feeling either.
I didn’t catch anything but didn’t really put any effort into it. Fishing was secondary to exploration and if nothing else was an afterthought to the area I was in. I’ll definitely be fishing the creek some other time.
While exploring, I stumbled upon someone’s attempt at a survival shelter, though I question the sanity behind doing it so close to the stream.
After a little more exploring, I decided to make my way back to town. I was getting hungry and looking forward to being able to cook food for the first time since I’ve been in Montana. Hmm. I feel like a nice ribeye, locally produced and butchered. People’s Market here I come.
