I got there early. Sunday, in the most remote part of the park, I did not have a close encounter with a bison. I fished the Lamar River for a couple hours in the afternoon. I found a nice bend in the river with an undercut bank on the other side. I never saw the bison. At dusk, I walked back to the motorhome and drove off to find a place to turn around and head back to the camp. As I drove back past the fishing spot, there was a lone bull bison standing on the bank, directly above the spot where I had been fishing.
On Monday morning, two hikers did have a close encounter with a grizzly, two miles down river from where I was fishing. The bison carcass was three weeks old, so the hikers thought it was safe to go down and take a look. The grizzly popped up out of a gully to defend his prize aggressively. It ended peacefully. The grizzly got to keep his carcass. Two hikers have the story of a lifetime about how they got to run all the way back to the car in wet shorts. Now there are fresh bear warning signs up at the trailhead. I fished the Soda Butte Creek.
We floated the Madison on Tuesday and Thursday with Rick the guide, and got close to a whole bunch of fish. Actually, Bill got closer to more fish, and bigger fish than I did.
On Wednesday, Bill and I wade fished the Madison by ourselves. The river, and the fish that were presumably there, pretty much kicked our ass.
Friday, we loaded up and took the scenic loop over the Divide, around to the lake, along the river, through Hayden Valley, over Dunraven Pass, down through Tower, the Roosevelt Lodge, past Slough Creek, through the Lamar Valley, and finally to Pebble Creek Campground. Back to the remote top-right corner of the Park.
I took Bill back to show him where I caught all the Yellowstone cut-throat trout on Sunday and Monday. I could show him where they were, but I couldn't show him any fish. We went to the Lamar River. It was dead quiet. We worked and worked and worked the water. Nothing happened. We went to different water. We went to Soda Butte Creek. It too was dead quiet. Just like there were no fish there at all. We started at the Butte. We walked and fished our way down-stream. Nothing happened until down by the Bison. Then the fish started rising. But we still couldn't catch them. They were clearly eating now, but we couldn't see anything on the water. All we knew was that they didn't want to eat what we were offering. Finally, by putting my reading glasses on and putting my face right down next to the water, I could see the tiny bugs. There was a hatch on. It was a hatch of very very tiny little brown indistinct bugs. And they were the only thing our trout wanted.
By now the trout were lined up right on the bubble-line, one each ten feet or so, each rising for a gulp, and dropping back down, then rising again. We went through our fly boxes and found the two tiniest, cruddiest little brown bugs we could to tie on and offer. It worked. We caught lots of fish the last hour or so. We fished until it was too dark to see the flies.
I didn't get to my run until late that night. Just as the moon set, I went out for a run in the starlight. At the turn-around, far-point of my run, I stood alone in the dark and listened to the wolves howling all around me. It made me shiver. The wolves are clearly back. And they belong.
Bill and I both left on Saturday morning. Bill went back across the top of the park through Mammoth Hot Springs, then north-west up into Montana. I went out the Bear Tooth Highway, the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway, by the Big Horn River, through Thermopolis, the Wind River Canyon, and past Hell's-Half-Acre. Ten minutes after I left camp at 7:30 in the morning, I got a full, unobstructed view of a bull moose. He crossed the road and worked his way up the hill to my right. I just pulled up and stopped to watch. I got to be a moose-jam of one.
Thirteen more hours and I was home.
Judy was glad to see me. The puppy pretty much wiggled herself inside out. The Broncos won. The cat pretended he didn't care I was back, but I'm sure he did.
What I did this summer.
S
