Floating and fishing in three-quarter time
(See full video here: https://youtu.be/84Rv2_Qv7wc)
Like most adventures these days, this one started with a text.
“Rodney—you in for the Missouri River in late April?”
“Sure,” I texted back, not even bothering to see who else was on the text strand. In my mind, when you had a chance to fish one of the world’s great tailwaters, you always said yes.
As time drifted by, the text chain stayed busy—plans for meals, plans for a nightly award ceremony, plans for camp locations, scouting mission reports from friends, advanced weather reports, and more.
The day finally arrived, and, once again, a text kicked it off.
“Rodney—looking at leaving a day earlier than planned. Can you be ready to leave tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” I texted back, with some hesitation.
We’d just returned from a weekend of club volleyball in Boise, and I now had just a few hours to get everything washed, packed, and over to Dines’ house by 5:30.
It was a bit stressful, but it meant adding a day of fishing to our trip, so a little stress was worth it.
I packed. Repacked. Then headed over to Dines’ house. On the way, I stopped in at the urgent care center to check in on my daughter, who’d burned her hand trying to make family dinner. She was in pain, but otherwise fine. I left thinking that maybe I was being irresponsible. My wife assured me I wasn’t, but combined with my rush to pack, I felt out of sorts. Not quite ready for the adventure, but not ready to back out.
One of my other daughters dropped me off. I unloaded the stuff from our car and reloaded it into Dines’ travel trailer. As we finished, we watched and laughed as she tried to back our car up and turn around to head home. Every 10 seconds, the car would auto-brake, sending her lurching towards the steering wheel. Earlier that day, I’d kept a promise to install a new bike rack on the car, not knowing I also needed to change the auto-braking settings. The result? The car thought the bike rack was in the way, and it was doing its best to help us avoid hitting the rack when backing up. What a pain. I smiled as she finally got turned around and headed home.
“I’ll solve that problem in a week,” I said to myself.
And with that, Dines and I climbed into his truck and pulled the trailer out of the driveway, pointed towards Missoula, Mont.—about five hours away.
As we drove along the Salmon River, then the Clearwater and the Lochsa, we got excited for the coming adventure and planned out our daily float schedule. That night, we camped beside the Lochsa, just below Lola Pass. Our plan was to get up early, head out, and be on the Missouri by noon.
We were close. With just a brief stop at the Missoula Albertsons and Costco, and then a short stop at the Wolf Creek Fly Shop, we met Dines’ brother-in-law, Patrick, at the Wolf Creek Bridge landing and launched for a nice half-day float down to Craig.
It was the start of four lazy days of floating and fishing in unseasonal sunny and warm conditions. Because of the sun (and the fact that it was the last week in April), the famed Blue Wing Olive hatch never quite materialized.
Instead, we spent our days running nymphs and throwing streamers. The fish cooperated—and we had several large rainbow and brown trout to show for our efforts. Each night, we gathered around the campfire to enjoy an amazing meal prepared by that night’s chef as well as the cocktail of the day. We also got to laugh as Dines held his nightly awards ceremony—biggest fish, smallest fish, and whatever else sprung to mind during the day.
Like all multi-day trips—especially ones involving floats on a river—there was a lot of time to ponder life and simply enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face.
This trip was no different. On the last day, I turned 53. Surrounded by friends, floating a beautiful river took some of the sting out of aging—though it’s better than the alternative—and put me in a relaxed frame of mind for when I returned home and dropped back into normal life, which meant figuring out how to fix the braking settings on my car. Nothing like getting right to it.
My hope for you this summer is that you find some time to relax here in the most beautiful spot in the world, and also find a bit of peace and a dose of adventure. Funny how often the two go hand-in-hand.
