Striking Gold in Bannack

We left Nelson Spring Creek and headed west so Jack could try again to check off the Beaverhead River and Carol could go birding there. We loved the ghost town of Bannack where the first Montana goldrush had started in 1862 with the discovery of gold in Grasshopper Creek. Turns out that Grasshopper Creek is a tributary of the Beaverhead River so if Jack can catch a trout there, he can check off the Beaverhead.

We took a route from I-90 that led us up the Jefferson River through the town of Twin Bridges and then into Dillon. The Bighole and the Beaverhead form the Jefferson River just downstream of Twin Bridges and we stopped there for supplies and a look at the lower Beaverhead. A few miles upstream of Twin Bridges is the rock known to the Shoshone Indians as Beaverhead. It is near here where Sacajawea spotted her homeland and where Lewis and Clark were desperate to find the Shoshone so they could get horses and head over the Rockies before winter set in. As luck would have it, when Lewis and Clark found the Shoshone, Sacajawea recognized the chief as her longlost brother. That reunion changed the history of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

The area around the Beaverhead is now under protection of a united conservancy which is protecting the marshland and all the wildlfie and plants. Off in the distance we saw sandhill cranes, pelicans and many other waterfowl. It's an amazing area to see and know you are standing in the footsteps of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

When we arrived in Dillon, we stopped at the flyshop where Carol bought her Tenkara flyrod to get one more piece of needed equipment. Outside is another touching sculpture of a cowboy/rancher watering his horse using his hat as a bucket. You can see and feel the close bond between the two in the eyes of the cowboy. A great sculpture.

Sculpture by: Bradford J. Williams "Friends drink first" - The cowboy has filled his hat with water from the pump so his horse can drink. Nowadays young bucks fill their big pickups with gasoline and pollute the air.

We arrived at our camp in Bannack in the early evening and took a walk to scout the Grasshopper Creek. The creek meanders through a sage brush covered valley and Jack decided to suit up and head upstream to give it a try.

Fishing the Grasshopper Creek, a tributary of the Beaverhead (by Jack)

When Carol and I scouted this stream, we noted a very large pool about 75 feet in diameter. I saw no rising trout in the pool, but I thought I heard one upstream.  I headed up to this pool, but again there were no trout rising. I tied on a number 16 Adams dry fly pattern. Even though the Adams pattern does not mimic a specific mayfly, it seems to mimic all mayflies and is a good all-purpose dry fly.
Several casts and drifts into the pond from the upstream creek side produced nothing. Nor did my several casts to the banks on the other side of the stream. About 25 or 30 feet upstream there was a nice-looking hole where the creek made a 90-degree bend. I waded across the stream to get a good casting position and then started casting upstream into the tail of the pool. When I reached the head of the pool, I cast just upstream and let the fly drift back into the pool. The glare on the water caused me to lose sight of the fly and when it should have passed the glare, I could not see the fly. While I felt nothing in my line, just in case, I set the hook. At first I thought all I had done was set the hook into a snag. But then the snag started to move ever so slowly. About this time, both the trout that I had on and I realized that I had hooked into a big trout. The first thing the trout did was race downstream toward the big pool stripping line off my reel as he sped downstream. I could not believe I had hooked into a large trout in such a small stream. The drag on my reel slowed him down and I started reeling him in against the current. Eventually I netted a 16-17 inch Brown trout. In the arctic twilight the fish looked like a golden trout. I thought to myself that I had struck gold again in the Grasshopper Creek and perhaps had the same reaction those miners of long ago had when they really found gold in this stream.

Jack fishing Grasshopper Creek in the ghost town of Bannack

After I came back to camp, happy as could be over checking off this river, we had supper and built a nice campfire, and sat by it till 10 pm or so.

Carol relaxing by our campfire in the arctic twilight.

Bannack Birding

This state park is noted as a birding "hot spot" and I wanted to try to check off a few more birds on our list while Jack fished. On Monday morning, Jack planned to fish the creek some more, and I took off for the ghost town with my binoculars. A staff member had told us the last time we were here that some young kestrels, just hatched in the early summer, liked to hang out in the trees near the visitor center, so I started there. Sure enough, it didn't take long to spot several young kestrels in the treetops, watching me watching them. I love these little falcons, with their streaked faces and fierce expressions. I kept an eye on them for a while as they flew from tree to tree, and took a few long-distance photos.

Kestral in the treetop above an abandoned home in Bannack

Then I decided to hike up Hangman's Gulch, where the original town gallows still stands on a slight rise near the main town. This area is very desert-like, with lots of sagebrush, and I could see a few birds flitting. When I made it up to the gallows, I spotted a flashy blue bird, a new one to me, and thought I caught enough field marks to identify it in my bird book. However, when I got back to the RoadTrek and the bird books, I couldn't make a positive ID. I thought it must be a Lazuli bunting, but I hadn't spotted a rusty necklace on the bird I saw. Fooey. Not too much later, Jack came back, saying that he hadn't had much luck fishing today, so I twisted his arm to hike back up to the gallows and try again to spot that bird. We didn't see the blue bird again, but did spot a small brown bird and both of us got a good look at him, so thought we'd be able to ID it in the book. Again, it's very frustrating how long it takes to find a bird in the bird books, but we finally agreed that the bird we'd spotted was a rock wren. First time we've seen one on this trip.

Hangman's Gulch

Since this will be our last night in Montana, we decided to drive into Dillon and splurge on a steak dinner. We rarely eat red meat anymore, but being surrounded by cattle ranches for a month has had an effect on us, I guess, and we both thought a steak would taste good. In Dillon, it took us a while to find a good steak place that was open on a Monday, but we finally narrowed in on a nice restaurant. It wasn't open yet, so we took the opportunity to visit the county historical museum that was right across the street. Lots of interesting historical and natural artifacts on gold mining, native Americans, cattle ranching, and lots of other things. One of the exhibits was a sizable exhibit of birds of the county (all collected, stuffed and mounted by the same man, over years).

When 5 o'clock came we hurried over to the restaurant and ordered our steaks. Man, were they good...

Back at the campsite with still lots of light left, I headed down the road with my binoculars, still looking for that blue bird that I didn't positively identify from this morning. I had heard a call that I thought was him, because the book said it sounded similar to the call of the indigo bunting, which I'm familiar with, only a lot faster. I heard something that sounded like that and kept looking around, and finally spotted the same type of bird, sitting on a sage bush. This time he was facing me so I could see his rusty necklace--it was indeed the Lazuli bunting, a new one for our life list. Still not quite as flashy as the bird we're still looking for, the painted bunting, but it was a very pretty cousin! That was satisfying, to go in search of a specific bird and finally find him...

We had another peaceful night sitting by the campfire, and then read till we fell asleep. The nights are pretty cool here at elevation, which makes for good sleeping.

Tuesday morning, I got out my new Tenkara fishing rod to practice some more in Grasshopper Creek. Jack thought a grasshopper imitation might be a good fly to try--very appropriate--so that's what got tied on. We hiked over the hill to a spot near where he caught his big brown trout on Sunday and I fished while Jack coached. No luck again. Jack tried his hand and got a few nibbles but didn't hook anything. Oh well. I think it will work when we get back to Craig's Creek, where the fish aren't as smart.

Carol with her Tenkara rod. The long, extremely light, graphite rod telescopes down into this short tube.

Carol making a cast with her Tenkara rod. Note, no reel. Just rod, line, and fly.

Carol loves her Tenkara.

We packed up and reluctantly headed out--we're sad to leave Montana, and specifically this campground, which has a lot going for it. (It doesn't have electricity or plumbing, but it does have free Wi-fi! Not sure how that works....)