June 27 - July 7, 1997

June 27 - Five of the Team (Gregory, Kathy, Stevie, Ken and I) flew into Bozeman (Boiseman…did I say that right?…..I said that right) on a partly cloudy, kinda wet summer day. Met by our gracious hosts, Ed and Leah Anne Totten, at the Aeropuerto. Initially hoping to get a little midnight fishing in, we settled for a leisurely dinner at a little Mexican restaurant in Bozeman. Pulled into Ennis around sunset a little weary but happy to be in Big Sky Country. After a briefing by Guru Ed, Greg and I settled into the basement to tie some rather large stimulators. I tied the butt-ugliest stimulator you could ever imagine but am happy to report that the next three were a little more buggy looking.

Quote of the day: "I found it at the dump!!" Paul Pirnak, referring to a huge, soiled piece of Moose fur

June 28 - Rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn….er….make that about 10AM. Didn't hit the hay until the wee AM hours that morning. Paul Pirnak, our knowledgeable Madison River guide (and quite the prankster/smartass) pulled up to the Totten homestead a while later with a little red chair placed at the bow of his driftboat just for Ronshi (see The Ennis Journal, 1996). Leah called an old buddy of hers and managed to borrow an inflatable raft and we were off to the Madison for an afternoon of fishing. The skies were clear and it was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day. As soon as we got to the river, clouds appeared over the range of mountains far to the west of the valley. Stevie, Ken and I took the first run with Paul "Bunyan" Pirnak and Greg, Kathy and Leah rode with Ed in the inflatable. I got a chance to break in my new flyrod on a juvenile brown trout caught with a rather large salmon fly nymph (I seem to have forgotten the actual name of the fly). All in all, it was pretty slow that afternoon. Met up with the Avon girls and their men and found out they absolutely slammed the trout. Same flies, same river (albeit different sides) but totally different results. Kept Paul up all night thinking about why the numbers were so uneven.

June 29 - The pennises go a-floating. Greg bumps Stevie from the rotation and it's Ken, Greg and me on the S.S. Pirnak for another afternoon on the Madison. Ken and Greg get consistent rises/catches but for some weird reason, I can't hook a fish to save my life. Had more luck catching whitefish than trout. Paul says I was swinging too fast…not sure if he was just funnin' me or what. Late in the afternoon, Greg gets a vicious rise right on the bank and the fish motors off into the sunset, stops, gathers steam and charges the boat. I look over the side of the boat and see a yellow/gold object closely resembling a torpedo dart underneath us. All hell is breaking loose by this time and Ken, Paul and I are yelling meaningless utterances at Greg. Ten minutes later, Greg's sitting on the bank with his 22" trophy brown trout. Ken, who before the chaos was basically sound asleep in the front seat and done fishing for the day, is now bright eyed and bushy tailed, rod in hand ready to do battle. All business now, Ken isn't smiling, talking or laughing….just casting. Greg sitting in the front seat chomping on a victory stogie. Ken flings his fly under the brush on the bank…a perfect cast. When you fish with Paul, you just seem to know when a fish is gonna take your fly, and this was one of those moments. Ken's fly looked like a big-ass cheeseburger floating inches off the bank. Just as we expected, a 16" brown took his fly seconds after it landed and the cameras were out once again to record the moment. Greg assumed his rightful place at the front of the boat with about 15 minutes left on our float. Five minutes later, he hooks an 18" brown and lands it at our take out point. A career day for Gregory. A rather disappointing day for me.

June 30 - Dave and Kelly arrive the night before. Dave's way excited about hitting the river, but the wind is blowing about 150 mph. I get dibs on riding with Paul again since I floundered so miserably the day before. Got to feeling like the Montana No-Fish-Catching Poster Boy. We get to the river and it looks like it's gonna rain/sleet/hail, but Paul still gives the thumbs up. I hop into the back spot and we start throwing those HU-HU-HU-HUGE weighted nymphs at the bank and bottom dragging for any trout hungry enough to eat a 2" long, rubber legged suppository looking thing. We worked the river the first two hours for about six or seven small Brown Trout and my 15 minutes of fame finally arrived. Flailing my hand tied Stimulator at the bank with a stiff headwind blowing, I managed to fool a nice sized Brown Trout into taking my not-so-realistic offering. It took about ten minutes for me to land it, during which Dave, Kelly, Paul and I practiced our Chinese Fire Drills. The fish turned out to be a nice 18" Brown. The biggest trout I had ever caught on a fly. Who would've ever thunk it...on a cold, windy day even! We were back on the river a few minutes later with Paul commanding from the captain's chair, "POP IT IN THERE...TIGHT TO THAT BANK...IN AND OUT....AWWWW...THIS IS GOOD WATER....DON'T WASTE IT!!!!" This, needless to say, really gets the adrenaline pumping. A few yards down the river, Dave nails a 16" brown and Paul is gettin' even more pumped. "AWWWW...IT'S STARTIN' TO HAPPEN....I WANNA SEE A BIG OLE' ALLIGATOR HEAD...SIZE OF A VOLKSWAGEN....C'MON FISH!!!!" (he really does talk like that!) Unfortunately, it didn't get any better, but hell, I was walking on clouds already.

Quote of the Day - "I got me some Labbits" Ken Mukai, with the American enunciation of the Canadian Beer, Labatt's.

July 1 - Axolotl Lakes (roughly translated from Nez Perce as "Craig No Ketchum Fish Here"). Ed tells us tales of catching cutthroat trout the size of a VW bumper. Of course since Ed is THE man, we pull out our float tubes for the first time since our arrival. a quick stop at the Town Chump/Pump to inflate our tubes (float with air and anatomical with pork chop samiches and corndogs) and we're off into the hills surrounding Ennis. Up, down, around, over and through those hills we travel, looking for the fabled Axolotl Lakes (Mybaconsalami). After an encounter with a rabid pack of delinquent milk cows and many, many muddy lil' puddles, we stumble upon the lakes. Over a rise was a beautiful lake with somewhat of a figure 8 shape. All over the lake, fish are dimpling the surface, obviously feeding on something. Ed, Leah and Stevie are, as always, the first in the water. By the time I get squared away, Ed's already nailed about fifty fish. I start with a Parachute Adams...no luck....changed to a humpy....no luck.....changed to a woolly bugger.....no luck.....changed to a woolly bugger with a prince nymph dropper and FINALLY got a little Cutthroat Trout to bite. "Oh man," I'm thinking, "I'm gonna absolutely slaughter these fish now!!!" Flash forward an hour...Craig has made NO progress...hooked and lost about two more fish and they done wised up on my little dropper prince nymph. In the meantime, the rest of the crew is doing rather well. GP starts slammin' the trutta on nymphs and Kathy hooks a Cutt-Bow and holds it captive for about ten minutes. I decide to call it quits since it's getting rather dark. I kick my way back to shore, and in the dim evening light, I resemble a dog with it's tail tucked between it's legs. What a long day. *Sigh*.

July 2 - Butte (pronounced "Butt-E". Well, well, well. It's that time of the trip. The annual run over to Butte, MT to see John and June. The drive is quite enjoyable. Lots of rolling pastures and green grass. My casting hand really aches, so I welcome this respite. See, every year we stop off to see these folks, and every year they feed us until we're about to burst. Like years previous, June made her specialty, Pasties (sp??). They resemble large turnovers filled with meat. A couple of those puppies along with rice and kimchee and you've got a meal fit for kings. So, we descended on Aunty Junes home and absolutely devoured all the food she made for us. Sitting around after, fat and happy, the subject of fireworks comes up. FYI, three years previous, GP almost set the town of Butte on fire....his projectile careened off a power line and fell into a field of dry grass. After re-enacting a scene out of the Three Stooges, the fire was safely put out. Turns out Uncle John is something of a pyro himself. One of his daughters is working at a local fireworks stand and he volunteers to get us bargain prices. We head out in a hurry and get to the stand just before closing. Giggling like little kids as we pull into the driveway, it's a scene not unlike a christmas morning. Cellophane flying everywhere. Moments later people are running around lighting fireworks...and running from them. Ken starts lighting these spherical little fireworks balls and rolling them at everyone in sight. Amazingly nobody lost any body parts and we got through the evening with only one complaint from a neighbor whose roof we almost set ablaze. After the fireworks show, the topic of pork chop sandwiches (which are quite the delicacy in Butte) came up. Five minutes later were pulling into the driveway of a bar/restaurant ordering a bunch of sandwiches and fries. It was one of those 10,000 calorie days. We polished off the sandwiches, said our goodbyes and headed back to Ennis.

July 3 - The Homebodies. Stevie, Ken and Dave took a ride with Paul today. Kathy, Greg, Kelly and I played at the construction site. Ready and willing to help get the Totten Homestead erected, we donned our hardhats and went out to the property. The Tottens are building a rather Disney-esque log cabin....like something out of a movie. When we arrived, the walls were pretty much in place. Our task, as I frightfully learned that morning, was to lay tongue-and-groove...boards that make up the ceiling of the first floor and floor of the second story. Those of you who know me probably are a little concerned for my safety at this moment, for I am not exactly the most sure-footed being on this earth. I tried to ignore the gruffy looking 400# foreman guy, but eventually I was lured up to the skeleton of beams that made up the not-yet-constructed ceiling. I failed to mention that the storms chose not to pass through the valley this day and that the temperature was somewhere in the 80's. Greg and I toiled away for about three hours and made very little progress (cool breeze....feels so good). Ed showed up after taking care of some art business and we immediately began to show progress. A couple of hours later, Stevie, Ken and Dave finished their run down the Madison and showed up at the house. By nightfall, half of the ceiling/floor had been completed and I was completely exhausted.

July 4 - Rainbows! After a long day at the construction site, Greg, Kathy and I were given the privilege of fishing today. After barely making it out of town ahead of the Ennis Independence Day Parade, we boarded Paul’s boat on a beautiful sunny day. Unfortunately, the skeeters were quite famished and decided to feast on a couple pints of my B-positive. The day began as usual for myself….very few fish. I didn’t feel quite so bad since we were all struggling today. Paul was in rare chattering form, barking instructions from the captains chair. "AWWWW…THIS IS GONNA BE A GOOD DAY…I CAN FEEL IT…..WE’RE GONNA KNOCK THE SHIT OUTTA THE FISH TODAY." I, for one, believed him as I always do. For one reason or another, the back seat of the boat seemed to produce all the fish this day. As I was resting in the front seat, with Greg’s neoprened behind inches from my face, I began watching Sistah Kathy fishing in the back seat. She was tossing some huge salmon fly looking thing right along the bank, hitting the quiet water like Coach Pirnak always tells us to. I just happened to be watching her fly when I caught a flash of silver and red and saw Kathy’s fly disappear in a small splash of water. Just like out of the Scientific Anglers home video, she set the hook and the fight was on. She managed to whip the 16" Rainbow Trout in a few minutes and we were all quite impressed with the brilliant crimson stripe along the sides of this particular fish. It was quite possibly the nicest colored fish I’ve seen. Taking her place in the back of the boat, I hooked and landed a 17" rainbow soon after. This fish didn’t even compare color-wise to Sistah’s fish, but I was pretty damn happy with it. Greg stepped to the plate soon after and had a very hungry trout rise on his stimulator. GP couldn't resist the temptation and set the hook too soon...leaving the monstrosity of a trout chasing after a stimulator skittering across the surface of the water. This year was shaping up to be the best one yet fish-catching wise. The fishing was so good the last stretch of the river that Paul insisted on doing the last couple of miles all over again. Hearing no complaints from us, we hauled the boat back upstream and did it all over again. I looked over my shoulder and noticed we were coming close to the take out point, but we were all the way across the river. At the last possible minute, Paul starts rowing as hard as he could to get us to the other side. About now it becomes apparent we were gonna miss the take out...or at least overshoot it significantly. We drift by the ramp about 30 yards and Paul says, "Craig, you need to jump out of the boat." Paul was exhausted and couldn't stop the boat himself. So, I, clad in shorts, T-shirt, and Nike sandals (not quite the best footwear for treading on mossy rocks) throw myself overboard...well...almost. Seems as if my left foot didn't want to go and hung up on the gunwhale of the boat. If you can picture me hanging half out of a boat heading south on the Madison, you should be laughing your ass off right about now. I manage to get completely in the water and now my feet are skipping along the bottom of the river...I'm hanging on for dear life, looking like I'm doing chin-ups outside of the boat. FINALLY, I get my footing and drag the boat to slow water but not before I'm completely soaked! What a day.

July 5 - Log Homes R Us. Dave, Kelly, Ken and Stevie worked on the house yesterday while Kathy, GP and I went out with Paul. We decided it'd be best to knock off the floor/ceiling ASAP. The group got a lot done the day before and we had only a few board to pound in. With the help of Rick, Eds cousin, we were done in a couple of hours. Dave and Kelly chose to ride with Paul on the river, while the rest of us decided to go up to Axolotl Lakes again. I cringed. We get in our tubes and out on the water. Rick indicates the fish are taking humpies. He hooks a bunch, but once again, the curse of Axolotl is upon me. I'm snakebit. To top it all off, black clouds start appearing over the lake and it begins to rain. Most of us bail out and run for cover in the cruiser. Rick and Ken stay at the lake somehow knowing it would blow over. Lo and behold, fifteen minutes later, it's sunny again and the fish are going nuts. We all relaunch. GP is staying pretty consistent with a wooly bugger looking thing. Stevie also drags the same behind his tube. Allofasudden, all hell breaks loose. Stevie starts screaming like his tube is sinking. Of course by now, the sun has gone completely down and you can't even see your hands. I scoot in the direction of the commotion with my lil' flashlight and there's Stevie with the BIGGEST rainbow trout I've ever seen in my life. He's got this wicked GI Joe Kung-Fu grip on it and is practically bear hugging this fish. Rick comes ashore and puts the trout out of it's misery. Stevie, soaking wet, claims honors for largest trout of the trip.

Quote of the day: "If you bite it in the head it'll die." Rick Parke describing his unique method of killing trout.

July 6 - Axolotl Lakes....yes, again. Our last full day in Montana and we decide to stick together in a big group. Dave and Kelly leave for Portland in the morning. We head back to my favorite fishing hole. Ed figures it'd be a good idea to hike to the back lakes. Gets no argument from me what with my stellar performance at the first lake. Everybody grabs their tubes, waders, boots, etc. and heads uphill toward the third lake. After taking the wrong path and almost puncturing my tube on a barbed wire fence, I find the right route and make it to the shoreline of the lake. The lake surprising holds no signs of life. Half an hour later, we're hiking our way down to the second lake. Ed jumps in first and hooks a Grayling. We all start rigging up and jump in after Ed, eager to catch our first Grayling. Grayling are everywhere! Ken hooks one, Stevie hooks one, I hook one. Eventually, the Grayling wise up and refuse our offerings. Figure it's about time to vamoose down to the first lake...my favorite. An easy fifteen minute hike downhill brings us to the first lake where we end up fishing until dark. The lake is bubbling with fish, but this time everybody except Ed has a tough time. We call it quits after dark and head home, a little sad that we gotta jump on a plane tomorrow.

July 7 - Home. Ed and Leah graciously drive us around the area...taking in the view from the peak of a nearby range. We were able to see clear into Idaho. The house is a disaster. We ain't the cleanest folk. An hour drive to Boise-man brings our High Country saga to a close. Can't wait til next year....