“I don’t even know why I bother setting the alarm. I always wake up just before it goes off.”
It felt like 4am came around far too quickly. I must have really been tired and slept rather soundly. Granted it’s a Sunday, and most people sleep in, but it’s not my cup of tea to lay in bed after I wake up; although, I’m not exactly sure why today I decided to do exactly that and laid around until 5am, or so.
After getting ready and tidying up my room, I left the hotel and straight to the store for my usual. By this time, it was close to 6am and dawn was breaking.
On a whim, I decided to drive out towards Big Hole. Ugh, fishing is not easy out here. You actually have to drive for it. It’s not like the bitterroot where I could walk across the road and I could be fishing immediately. I set my GPS for Dewey and away I went.
“Man it is a peaceful drive out here on a Sunday morning.”
As I arrived at the Big Hole river, I pulled off at the first site I could access — Divide Bridge Campground. “Damn this place is beautiful! Wow It’s chilly. Summer days are certainly numbered.”
After smoking a cigar, or two, I made my way west. The sun was just coming up and was kissing the surrounding area with it’s early morning golden warm rays, making for a beautiful drive.
I stopped off at Jerry Creek Boat Ramp, which apparently is a really popular fishing access site. It’s barely after 7am and already the access site had quite a few vehicles. This is quite different than the Bitterroot where you rarely see anyone at the access sites until sometime after 8am.
I lit a cigar and walked up on the bridge. On one side, I saw someone casting a dry fly. On the other, was someone, more my speed, fishing a spinning lure.
“Morning! How’s the fishing?” I asked from a top the bridge.
“Morning! I caught a rainbow earlier. Then I fished over there and something big hit my lure, but I didn’t get it,” the man replied.
I stood there watching him make a few more casts, as I puffed on my cigar. After taking in the view for a while longer, I made my way towards one end of the bridge where I had parked my car.
I leaned against the hood of my car absorbing the warmth of the sun while I smoked a cigar. “Man it really is chilly.” The silence was quickly broken by the spin fisherman shouting to the fly-fisherman, “Gottem!” I wasn’t going to walk over and check it out — I’ve seen plenty of people catch fish — but I heard the thrashing of the fish and it sounded big.
“Wow, that thing is big. Congrats!” I told the fisherman, as I watched him hold up what appeared to be about a three to four pound brown.
He released it. Shot me a look and said, “thanks!”
Right about now is when I started kicking myself for not bringing my rig. I seem to always go scouting without my rig and it always results in me missing opportunities. I don’t know why I do that. Hey, but guess what? I know what river I’ll be fishing next — Big Hole!
