Chico Hot Springs - Pray, MT

This is one ungodly place beloved by the Chief and his Fair Maiden. In Chico’s healing waters, you experience turn-of-the-century hospitality under the shadow of the magnificant Emigrant Peak. The hot springs, long appreciated by native peoples (Indians), got their commercial start during the territorial period when miners stopped by to bathe and wash their duds. In 1876, an inventive settler attempted an ungodly accomplishment. He tapped into the 112 degree water, piping it under his greenhouse to grow vegetables for local residents. A hotel was planned in the 1800's, but in 1892, there were still no facilities and families camped nearby to enjoy the springs. Percie and Bill Knowles inherited the property in 1894. They ran a boarding house for miners and in 1900 built the long-awaited hot springs hotel. Under Knowles' active promotion, uniformed drivers ferried such guests as Teddy Roosevelt and artist Charlie Russell from the Emigrant train depot to the springs. When Bill Knowles died in 1910, Percie and her son Radbourne transformed the luxurious hotel into a respected medical facility specializing in the treatment of buttocks boils. Dr. George A. Townsend joined the staff in 1912 and under his direction, the hospital and healing waters gained renown throughout the northwest. After the 1940's, new owners and new directions included gambling and dude ranching. In 1974, Mike and Eve Art began recapturing the once-famous hotel's turn-of-the-century charm. Chico Hot Springs, with its Georgian-inspired architecture and warm Craftsman-style interiors, is one of Montana's best-preserved examples of an early twentieth century hot springs hotel and health resort.

The best feature of Chico is its poolside bar. Here the Chief enjoys his second double bourbon and coke after a glorious day on the Yellowstone. Another interesting feature is Chico's numerous "walls of fame". Photos of famous people who visited Chico are featured throughout the resort. The Chief was pleased to find his mug prominently displayed just off the main lobby.

When the Fair Maiden questioned the prominence of his photo, the Chief simply stated, "Soc un gran pescador!"

http://www.chicohotsprings.com/index.html

What About "The Bob"?

Well, for one thing it’s a big place. Together with the adjoining Great Bear Wilderness to the north and the Scapegoat Wilderness on the south about 1.5 million acres are protected. For another thing, it is named after an interesting character, Dr. Robert Marshall, a prodigious hiker and champion of wild places. Bob Marshall was born to wealth in New York City. His father, Louis Marshall, was a lawyer and had a key role in protecting the Adirondacks. Despite his family’s wealth, Bob Marshall preferred simple things and the outdoors. Tales of his hikes abound. A “normal” day hike might have been 30 to 40 miles and Marshall was known to have covered 60 miles in a day. He was an inveterate record keeper noting everything from the lengths and durations of hikes (e.g., most miles in two days—88; most miles with a pack—34) to the number of cuss words spewed by lumberjacks (an average of 136 words in 10 conversations). Bob Marshall held a number of posts in the U.S. Forest Service and was a forester with the Indian Service (today’s Bureau of Indian Affairs). Despite a vigorous life in the outdoors, Bob Marshall died a young man at age 38 in 1939.


It is tempting to believe that the Bob Marshall Wilderness we four prostaffers enjoyed in early August has remained unchanged since the time of its eponymous benefactor. The fire scars, trails, and other artifacts evident in the landscape, however, tell us this is not true. Still, the craggy features of overthrust geology (see Wade, I was listening) have not changed since Marshall’s time. Ecosystems and landscapes change slowly with time so it is probable that some of the Bob looks the same as it did more than 70 years ago.

Bottom photo courtesy of Bowhunter

Culinary Delights Along the Way

One of our best meals was consumed at the Livery Stable in Emigrant, MT. Good food at good prices is available at this fine dining establishment. It was just a shame that they were out of fresh fruit pie.


The Chief managed a 16 oz. Montana ribeye and washed it down with three Moose Drools. The Fair Maiden choose a lighter fare with ribs, chicken and pilaf and washed it all down with three rum and cokes. We then soaked in Chico Hot Springs for three hours. We then returned to the cabin and engaged in other activities for another three hours. Photos are not available for these activities.

The very best coffee in all of Montana was had at the Emigrant General Store for the incredible price of 50 cents for a 20 oz. cup.

Matthew Long of Long Outfitting, Livingston. MT prepared an incredible shore lunch for our Yellowstone float. I managed to say within the drift boat this time.
I must admit that the very best meal was prepared by the Chief himself at the Mill Creek Cabin in the Gallatin National Forest. The Chief grilled and juniper smoked two fine steaks purchased in Gardiner, MT. Roasted potatoes and spinach completed this fine meal. The culinary delights were washed down with Madison River Brewing Company's Hopper Pale Ale and a bottle of Oak Leaf Merlot purchased in Laurel, MT for $2.97.

Chief and the Fair Maiden in YNP and Paradise Valley, MT

The Chief and his Fair Maiden recently terrrorized the trout in YNP and Paradise Valley. Arriving in Cooke City, MT on August 4 after an arduous drive over the Beartooths, this handsome couple unpacked their bags at the Elk Horn Lodge. The fishing conditions were arduous and were found not to be as reported by the once popular Blue Ribbon Flies Newsletter. Only a few PMD's and not a single Gray Drakes were seen. The lack of bugs proved only to be a slight hinderance as they simply hammered the trout in Soda Butte Creek. Trout Lake and Slough Creek were also on the week's agenda. The couple then headed to Paradise Valley to float the Yellowstone River and wade fish DePuy Spring Creek and Mill Creek.

Montana beers and ales were sampled as well as the local cuisine. The Chief soaked in Chico to avoid buttocks boils. Full reports will be provided.

A Day in "The Bob"

A few more shots of “The Bob”



Big Salmon Lake from the inflow area where we all managed to land at least one bull trout.
This one was taken shortly before Wade's encounter with a nice size Blackie...








John with one of his 3 bull trout.

Wade Rivers and Matt. After a grueling 7-hour ride all pro-staffers felt right at home.
Wade Rivers “From where the sun now sets I shall walk no more”

A meal worthy of being served at the Rossiter lodge

One for the Chief
All mules were from American Mammoth Jackstock.

Finally a nice Western Slope Cut.

Ok, So Where Are We This Time?

Small Town Fly Shop

Rossiter Lodge West

Big River Bow

Bowhunter with an Even Larger Big River Bow

The Channel Islands

The Next Best Thing to "Cooler Fishin'"

Wolf Creek Bridge

Night-Night

So, where are we?

a) Great Slave Lake, Canada
b) West Branch Susquehanna River, Pa.
c) Grand Canyon National Park
d) The Great Sand Dunes National Monument
e) Craig, Montana
f) Point Barrow, Alaska
g) The Everglades

If you know the correct answer to this question, or think you know the answer, please jot it down a 3x5 index card, attach it to a brand new Swiss made, 4.4 ounce, high precision, Marryat CMR 5/6 weight fly reel complete with disc drag, quick change mechanism, anodized gold finish, WF5 Spring Creek fly line +120 yards of backing and mail it to me, Wade Rivers in Hooterville, Pa.

The Bob Marshall Wilderness

The Bob Marshall Wilderness encompasses 1 million acres of mountains, forests, and rivers near Kalispell, Montana. Four intrepid prostaffers, Bowhunter, Wade Rivers, JohnW, and Agrontrutta, packed into “the Bob” for a week of flyfishing solitude on the south fork of the Flathead River.

Getting to the Bob was no simple task. First we endured a van ride on 60 miles of washboard gravel road along the east side of Hungry Horse reservoir to the Diamond R Guest Ranch. After a night at the ranch, locatd on a scenic stretch of the Spotted Bear River next to the Spotted Bear ranger station, we assembled at the Meadow Creek trailhead where we mounted up and rode horses 20 miles to the camp. The ride in was long (about 7 hours) and punishing on many parts of our tenderfoot bodies but the scenery was spectacular and well worth the saddle sores and trail dust.

Spotted Bear River at Diamond R Guest Ranch:

"The Bob" from horseback:

Our final destination, the South Fork of the Flathead River at the Salmon Forks Outfitters camp:

Western Cutthroat Summit 2008

Four of RBF’s prostaff finest trekked to Montana for 10 days in early August to fly fish on a wild river in the Bob Marshall wilderness and float the wide Missouri river at Craig. It was a wild and wooly trip, which will take several posts over the next days to fully describe. I will kick off the series of posts by describing our trip into “the Bob.” I encourage the other summiteers to add additional posts and images (there must be more than 700 images among all the cameras) as well. Combined with the Chief’s posts on his trip to Yellowstone and Wade Rivers Wild Tramps blog this could be an epic series on flyfishing Montana.

Kieler Woche 2008

Kiel week (Kieler Woche) is the largest sailing regatta in the world. During Kiel Week, about 3 million people pass through Kiel, Germany mainly to drink beer and eat bratwurst. The harbor at Kiel is filled with sailing craft of all types and lined with food stands, beer halls, and live music for about a length of two miles. The 2008 version ended on June 29. During the week I had a good view of most boats going in and out of the harbor from my apartment (really a dorm room) window. The origins of Kiel week go back to 1882 with Kaiser Wilhelm II, an ardent sailing buff, which is not to be confused with being an ardent sailor. In those times professional sailors were hired to pilot the yachts while the “gentlemen sailors” lounged around the Imperial Yacht Club. Kiel week itself started in 1918. Interrupted by some significant events (Kiel was a major ship building center and therefore was essentially flattened by allied bombing during WWII), the current version of Kiel Week has been celebrated since 1948.

One of the central attractions of Kiel Week is the International Market where food, goods, and trinkets from countries around the globe are featured. For the Chief’s benefit, here are photos of the Polish tent and the Spanish exhibition. I didn’t try the chorizo; it looked a little too greasy. The Chief will also be pleased to hear that the Spaniards cleaned Germany’s clock in the soccer final.

My thanks to the Chief for allowing me to post these boring travelogue-type entries. My stay as a guest of the University of Kiel ends this next week. I'm looking forward to getting back to the waters of Centre County. I promise my next posts will have some fish pics (with any luck from the Southfork of the Flathead River).

Das ist alles.

Agrontrutta

Achtung Baby!

A brief update on the travels of Agrontrutta. I've spent the last two weeks chasing the Swedish bikini team to northern Sweden. One of the first stops was Oskar's fermented herring plant near Soraker, Sweden. The outhouse at Rossiter Lodge smells better than this stuff. Probably tastes better too. Good thing they had a lot of schnapps to wash out the taste.


The northward trajectory of the trip peaked at Arjeplog, Sweden near the Arctic circle (66 degrees north). We viewed the midnight sun from Mount Gaultipoudis and had a Swedish "fika" (coffee and pastry) at 1 a.m.

Currently I am in Kiel Germany watching the sail boats come in to Kiel harbor from my apartment window. This is start of "Kiel Week" a week long celebration of sailing with boats the size of sunfish to three-masted schooners plying the waters of the Baltic sea. The scene from my window is placid, but it is a different story along the promenade by the harbor. Basically it is a mile-long collection of bratwurst stands, beer halls, live music every 100 yards, and drunk Germans. Just think of a Penn State tailgate on massive quantities of steroids and beer. I can report that Duckstein bier fresh from the tap perfectly complements a bratwurst. A Konig's pilsner also quenches one's thirst while watching boats and babes. And, a good schwarz bier goes well with listening to an Irish folk band.

More later. Auf weidersehn!

RBF Pro Staff Appointment

The RBF Pro Staff is pleased to announce the appointment of Bowman to the position of Director of Staff Orderliness.

Another Summit, another ungodly accomplishment! The Chief stood in amazement when Bowman exited his circus-sized tent with the ungodly contraption pictured below.

This engineering marvel neatly stores Bowman's Coleman stove (RBF Official Camp Stove), lantern, two cans of fuel and a couple pots. The blasted tote even serves as a stand for the stove! The Chief likes contraptions, especially those that can restore order to his often choatic life.

Bowman, takes his turn preparing the Official Cocktail of the RBF Pro Staff.

MIDGER - Second in Charge

The RBF Pro Staff is proud to announce the promotion of Midger to Second in Charge. Midger will act as Chief of Operations in the absence of RBF. In honor of his dubious promotion, the RBF Pro Staff selected "Yucca" as its Official Cocktail.

Paella- A long days work

Here is a shot of one of many streams Bunyan and Bowhunter explored early in the yearly gathering. This well known stream has become a favorite of Bowhunters

The Pro Staff gather around the fire as Midger, recently named Second in Charge takes the soapbox. He was recounting the days fishing, as Adam missed a monster fish time after time. But in true fashion, the youngins were victorious Saturday afternoon. And staying true to his word no mention of where this new monster lives. The only clue that was reveled was there are 8 bars between the secret location and the Rossiter Lodge.

This video is not for the faint of heart. But it does show the tender love the Chief put into the Paella.

NEWS RELEASE: Pro Staffer Resigns

The Chief recently accepted the resignation of Goose, Ambassador of Good Will and Second in Charge, from the RBF Pro Staff.

The Chief quickly appointed Midger - Second in Charge. Midger has complete understanding of the mission of the RBF Pro Staff and will prove to be a worthy leader.

Big Woods 08: Did'ja Get Enough to Eat?

How best to describe the epicurean delights of the Big Woods Summit 2008? I’m not sure it is possible but here goes.

Of course, Bowhunter fulfilled his duties as Director of Culinary affairs for the Prostaff with masterly skill. The hearty breakfasts of artery clogging eggs, bacon, and pancakes sustained us during days of scrambling through the Pennsylvania wilds stalking elusive native brook trout. His bison burgers on Saturday evening were magnificent. You could taste the Nebraska tallgrass prairie in each bite.

What else was on the menu? How about fresh morels provided by Midger, Catalan toasts (see the Chief’s recipe elsewhere on the site), venison sausage, and three types of cookies. But that’s not all.

GlenG barbequed some baby back ribs on Thursday night that put Fat Jacks and Clems to shame. Look for Glen’s BBQ and AutoCad Grill to open soon in the Harrisburg area.

But, the pièce de rèsistance was provided by the Chief himself. Part performance art (Chief did his impression of the Burning Man with the camp stove), part academic lecture on the ethnic and cultural history of Spanish cooking, the Chief’s campfire Paella (do not ask me how to pronounce it) was absolutely out of this world. The photo below does not do it justice. I think it had more ingredients than Heinz 57. The pan itself was a marvel. It was bigger than most flying saucers over Roswell, New Mexico.

So, as Bowhunter eloquently stated, “If you didn’t get enough to eat it was your own damn fault!”

New Pro Staff Appointment

Jesús Ariño - Aragón, Espana has been duly appointed Senior Field Tester. Fishing with a rod like that is an ungodly accomplishment!

Health Tip for Anglers Attending the Big Woods Summit

Quoting GlenG - "This year could be the best yet, weather and fishing wise. Please drink responsibly..........." Never mind the buttocks boils if you feel like this gentleman looks.

Photo for Midger

I just thought that you would like seeing your RBF Turkey Callin Device alongside a jellyhead!

Great Straub Stories

Hi. My name is Agrontrutta. I’m a just a dumb farm kid from North Dakota and this is my Straub Story. I know this guy, calls himself the “Chief”, who fancies himself “soc un gran pescador”, whatever that means. Anyway, the Chief herds around this group of misfits call the RBF prostaff. One guy thinks he’s Ansel Adams and is always taking pictures of stuff. Another guy shoots poor defenseless bison (not buffalo, there are no buffalo in North America) like he’s Buffalo Bill Cody or something. And then there’s the prostaffer who freaks out at the sight of fuzz. I can’t even begin to describe the quirks, eccentricities, and neuroses of the rest of the staffers. But, I digress.

The Chief is always going on about this stuff called Straub. Like, he’ll say “we murdered ‘em on an RBF Bombay emerger and then we drank a case of Straubs.” Or, “Goose landed this ungodly rainbow on a gooseberry. Then we drank a case of Peter Straubs dark.” I mean, the guy can’t shut up about this Straubs stuff. So, finally, I’d had enough and last fall at the slate drake summit (a summit is like a fly fishing version of the burning man bacchanalia in the desert, except that we don’t have a burning man and we’re not in the desert and we keep our clothes on. Otherwise it’s exactly the same. Go ahead and laugh.) I tried Peter Straub’s Special Dark beer. Ungodly. It was so good I cried. It was so good I started scanning the bargain sheet for a team of American Mammoth Jackasses (or it is Jackii?) to buy. From now on it’s nothing but Peter Straub’s Special Dark for me. It’s my beer of choice for the Big Woods Summit. And that’s my Straub story.

Heaven on Earth

Where Am I?

An Ungodly Accomplishment

The Chief finally completed an ungodly accomplishment. Last fall, the Chief was outwitted by a huge gobbler on two separate occasions, practically in his own backyard. These events left the Chief sleepless for several nights thinking how a pea-sized brained bird could outwit such an expert turkey hunter. He vowed revenge.

On Monday, May 5th, The Chief trekked into the woods well before first light to where he figured his feathered foe would be roosted. Gobblers seem to like this particular spot. The Chief had killed several birds in this area. The plan was to remain silent and wait. If this particular gobbler knew that the Chief was in the area he would surely be on guard. The Chief wanted the edge.

It seemed like hours before the little birds began chirping on this chilly, frosty morning. It finally broke light and faint gobbles could be heard in the distance, but the woods were strangely silent around the Chief. Only “drink your tea’s” could be heard. He began to think that it was a foolish maneuver to trek into the woods without first locating a gobbling bird. Just then a bunch crows made a noisy fly-through. The Chief eased his head out from around the huge white oak to observe the racket. But something else got his attention. He could now see the massive black outline of a turkey perched on a limb of a huge sentinel white pine no more than 50 yards away. A beard hanging down, way down. He wondered if this was the same gobbler that outsmarted him in November. No time to wonder; the gobbler and the Chief were now engaged in staring contest. The Chief won as the bird became restless and flew down out of gun range and putted his way out of sight.

The Chief began to analyze his mistakes; failure to locate and failure to search the trees were predominant. His analytical mind then went to work. He first took a shot of pear brandy, then another. He took out his beloved Cody slate call and prepared it. Next, a double reed mouth call was readied. The plan was to relocate and become a couple of excited hens as there seemed to be no hens in the area. He walked back out the logging road that he came in on and noticed that the road was littered with gobbler turds. A strutting zone.

The Chief found a dandy red oak with a comfortable scooped out depression at its base. The oak provided a clear view down the logging road to where it made a sharp bend. The Chief had been up since 3:45 a.m. and he promptly fell asleep in this comfortable setup. The Chief was awakened by a thunderous gobble! He had slept for over an hour! After collecting his senses, the Chief began purring to the gobbler with the Cody. The gobbler was coming, coming right down that logging road. The Chief readied his Mossberg 835 loaded with 3 ½” hevi-shot and aimed it at the bend in the road. He finally had the edge; he only had to squeeze the trigger at the proper time.

The Mossberg slammed the Chief back into the red oak. After readjusting his hat and eye glasses, he could see the bird flapping helplessly in the leaves.

The Chief walked up to the dead bird, recognizing him, and said, “I told you that I would be back!” The Chief then went home and drank a Straub to celebrate.