The Big Blackfoot is a river of boulders and deep, green pools. It is a river that runs through timber and canyon, a river that feels older than the anglers who fish it. For many western Montana fly fishers, it is the water by which other freestones are measured.
It begins in the high country along the Continental Divide, gathering water from Alice Creek and Landers Fork, and it runs west toward Missoula. It is a rough river, full of rocks that have fallen from the canyon walls, creating pockets and seams where the native westslope cutthroat and the heavy brown trout hold.
To fish the Blackfoot is to fish the pockets. You do not cast blindly into the middle of the river. You look for the rock, you look for the soft water behind the rock, and you drop your fly into that soft water. It requires a precise cast, often a roll cast or a reach cast, to get the fly under the overhanging pines and into the shadows.
The Character of the Water
The Blackfoot is not a forgiving river. The wading is difficult, the rocks are slick, and the current is deceptive. But it is a beautiful river. The water is a deep, clear green, the color of old glass, and the canyon walls rise steep and timbered on either side.
In the upper reaches, above the town of Lincoln, the river is small and intimate, winding through meadows and holding eager cutthroat. As it moves downstream, it gathers strength from the Clearwater River and Monture Creek, widening and deepening as it enters the canyon sections near Johnsrud Park.
This is classic teaching water. The pocket seams force a clean cast, a careful mend, and an honest drift. Anglers who learn the Blackfoot learn to read rock and current before they learn to trust a single fly pattern.
The Hatches and the Flies
The Blackfoot is an attractor river. The trout here are opportunistic, living in fast water where they do not have the luxury of inspecting a fly closely. They must eat when the food is there, or go hungry.
The season begins in early spring with the Skwala stoneflies, a dark, clumsy bug that brings the large browns to the surface. In June, the Salmonflies arrive, though the hatch is not as famous or as crowded as the one on the Madison. Throughout the summer, the fish will take a well-presented Golden Stone, a hopper, or a large, bushy attractor pattern like a Royal Wulff or a Trude.
But the specific fly is often less important than the presentation. A drag-free drift over a holding lie will catch fish on the Blackfoot, regardless of the pattern. The river demands execution, not imitation.
When the sun drops behind the canyon walls and the shadows lengthen across the water, the Blackfoot takes on a different feeling. The wind dies, the air cools, and the river seems to quiet itself. It is in these moments, standing in the cold water, watching a dry fly drift through the shadows, that a man can feel the presence of the past. The river is a highway of time, carrying the water and the memories downstream, forever.
Open-source photograph