There is something uniquely special about catching a fish that is elusive or rare. Researching the species and their habitat, as well as not knowing for sure if they will be where they supposedly are – the mystery is what is really enthralling. Some might find it odd, the great lengths we go to in pursuit of fish, but that’s the life we’ve chosen to live.
When we heard the weird and wonderful story of how California Golden Trout came to call the Montana wilderness home, we knew we’d have to search of them. Golden Trout are a genetic anomaly. A subspecies of rainbow trout, they were cut off by a glacier nearly 10,000 years ago. They developed in isolation in the Kern River drainage in California’s southern Sierra Nevada Mountains. Once observed by mountaineers in the late 1800s, their iridescent orange and canary yellow hues became infamous and attempts to transplant these otherworldly colorways began almost immediately, although with little success. Having adapted to living in such a unique environment as a glacial river drainage, the golden trout’s habitat was extremely difficult to replicate.
In the early 1900s, a crop of young goldens was being transported from the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the East Coast when the vehicle broke down. Realizing that the fish would die before a repair could be made, the transporters hiked the fish to the nearest lake and dumped them in, figuring that they’d at least have a fighting chance. The lake was chosen out of convenience – the transporters having very little understanding of the golden trout’s unique habitat requirements and merely found the body of water nearest them. As fate would have it, the lake had the right combination of gravel, rock and dissolved oxygen to be a golden trout nirvana.
To get to the lake where the trout are found meant some pretty arduous hiking and wild camping. As the name suggests, the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness is full of bears, which didn’t go down too well with my wife, Aimee. A self-confessed “bearanoid”, I did have to tell a few white lies about how many bears there are to convince her to come along. The hike tested us – the high altitude made it difficult for us to carry our packs even though we’d packed as lightly as possible. As photographers, it’s the outdoors that really inspires us, so on every trip, we go on our heavy, bulky photography gear is essential.
It took us a good two days to reach the lake that the fish call home. It was tough, but enjoyment and hardship often go hand-in-hand. The more remote and inaccessible, the more enjoyable the fishing.
Once we finally reached the lake, we ditched our bags and set up our rods straight away. It didn’t take long to get what we came for. Two minutes after we’d set up, I heard a shriek of excitement as one of the fiery yellow fish was slashing at Aimee’s feet. As she brought the fish to hand, we both stared down in awe and disbelief. No literature, photograph, or even our wildest imaginations could have prepared us for the beauty of the creature she cradled at her feet.
We spent hours at the lake, catching trout and taking photographs. Aimee’s approach to photography is photojournalistic, focused on capturing everything that happens around her – it’s nature and the natural world that inspires her, and fly fishing has allowed us the time to slow down and appreciate everything around us even more so. As she says, we could both be perfectly happy watching trout sip mayflies. We don’t need to catch them. We find it absolutely mesmerizing to just be able to quietly sit and watch them do their thing.
Our biggest goal is to experience new things and this trip in Montana was definitely one of the more obscure adventures we’ve been on. The good, the bad, and even the ugly are all learning experiences that make us better anglers and better people.
Catching fish is always magical, but it is representative of something greater; it’s a direct manifestation of hard work. Finally catching a fish you’ve been after, be it a specific fish you’ve spotted, or maybe just particular species is a feeling of tremendous relief, satisfaction, and accomplishment. The days, weeks, months leading up to that moment slowly ramp up in intensity, culminating in the exhilarating moment when you connect with something on the other end of your line. Things are tense and exciting until the moment that fish is in your hands. There’s a brief moment of silence and appreciation as you observe the fruits of your labor, and then, in an instant, it’s gone again. The cycle repeats.
