Back up to the Gibbon meadows for another session in the second meadow. The result was the same. Identical brownies ¾ to 1lb and heaps of them. One nice brookie. White tipped fins, blood red, blue and purple spots and mottled olive patterns. They fight well and took the black cicadas just like the browns.

I didn’t stop on the Yellowstone but headed back to Slough Creek and the Lamar. Both gave up a good cutthroat before I moved on to the Soda Butte. Several brookies and brownies later I headed for Cook City and Silver Gate. Soda butte is named after the conical mass of alkali at the entrance to the meadow.

I stopped in Cook City (a little wild west Montana town of about 200 people). I called in to a fly shop/outfitter and bought a

Mormon Cricket made of foam and rubber, as big as your thumb.

Back over Beartooth Pass again, this time through a hailstorm that turned to snow. Shafts of sunlight through the clouds laced with rainbows in the canyons and gorges. I stopped at Vista Point this time. I tried to capture it with a couple of photos but you had to be there. It was a moment of infinite beauty that passed as quickly as it appeared.

Monday was the last day to fish as I had to fly out on Tuesday.
By about 11am we were on our way back to the Clark’s Fork.

This little known section, down from the canyon, out in the badlands, was a favourite. So we went back for a last fish before I had to return home.

Marek had a favourite run against a clay cliff with a grassy overhanging bank. He had landed a big 5 or 6lb fish here in the past and was hot to fish it again. A few casts later a big rainbow smashed his cicada, tailwalking everywhere and out into the backing. Boy, do they have some power. It was a 3lb rainbow in great shape.

I had been having a feast of fishing, so I encouraged Marek to fish on. I had missed a couple who had crashed my fly in a wild strike. Marek was on fire. He caught five great fish to my two or three smaller ones. He is a lefty so he waded over to the other side so we could walk up the river together, fishing both sides.

He took another smaller rainbow and then turned around to return down to the crossing point. He disturbed two rattlesnakes on the way back. I could hear one hiss and spit and rattle from the other side of the river. The second one he kept at a rod length as he passed it by. It was coiled and sitting up. He hadn’t seen either while he was fishing.

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