After two long days of searching the Deschutes River for the promised steelhead that never showed, it was time to pack up and ride eastward towards Montana and my planned four day float trip on the Bitterroot River. Leland Ranch's, Rachel Andras (andrasoutfitters@me.com), found me an outfitter that promised a great adventure while taking me fishing and camping while floating down the Bitterroot, the storied river that Lewis and Clark explored with their Shoshone Indian guide, Sacajawea in 1805.
For most of us, getting ready for a three week road trip gets whittled down to combining a bunch of gotta-have's with some nice-to-have's and then tossing the whole mess into the back of a SUV and hitting the road. For those remaining few that are still a little unsure about what their leaving behind, that's the time to grab all the gear that falls under the "you just never know when you might need this too" and cram this additional gear into what remains of the car's little air space and then hit the road. This technique doesn't work too well when on a motorcycle. It didn't work at all for Lewis & Clark but then, that's another story.
"I'm sitting alongside my cozy early morning campfire listening to the Bitterroot River make its way towards the Clark Fork River. Over the riffles and runs it goes, happily gurgling along, singing the timeless water music that has inspired poets, artists and fishermen since the dawn of time. Hot coffee is perking its way towards drinkability, flocks of low flying geese are greeting me with their clatter as they lift off their night on the river and wing their way towards nearby wheat fields for their morning breakfast. My tent sparkles from the morning dew drops and I feel like a prince after a good nights sleep interrupted by a occasional owl's hoot to remind me of what I am. I find contentment everywhere I look and in every sound I hear."
Packing for a 2600 mile road trip on a motorcycle is in itself, a lesson in self discipline. But when you include plans to stop along the way and fish those rivers that that you happen to come across in transit, you soon discover that it now requires a lot of give and take on what to leave at home and the "must have's" that are needed to accomplish both adventures successfully. After a lot of packing, repacking, leaving out pieces of gear, adding in more and then repacking again, I found myself zipping through the back roads of Oregon, Idaho and Montana with an assortment of riding and street clothes jammed into the saddlebags and my waders, wading boots, two fly rods and significant amount of fishing gear tied down on the rear passenger seat of the bike. I think I ended up looking a bit like a dwarf two humped camel with shiny wheels, but it worked.
The two days spent riding my motorcycle to Montana was a totally excellent and self contained adventure in itself. A few short minutes after leaving Maupin, I was enveloped by the narrow, twisty "farm to market" roads of eastern Oregon which were dotted with farms, small towns, smaller villages and crossroad coffee shops with one lonely gas pump in front.
"Yesterday was a 20+ fish day, today maybe 15 but who's counting. I did get the 18" rainbow which made for good fun. Game abounds with Whitetail and Mule deer, Osprey, Bald Eagle and Beaver are everywhere. Spend enough time out here you see everything that can walk, swim or fly --- go over, under or past you in a day. I keep waiting for Sacajawea to step out from the cottonwoods pointing towards Lewis and Clark's camp just around the next river bend.
Riding these back road of America lets you enter a moving diorama of Currier & Ives and Norman Rockwell calendar pages filled with tidy farms, an American flag in front of each house, barns with hex signs, live stock luxuriating in knee high grasses and precision tractor furrows framing the miles of wheat and barley fields that stretch towards the horizon. This is the America that our parents and grandparents knew at a time when going on a vacation meant that the real adventure was the road trip itself. Getting there was the adventure. I'm happy to report that this slice of America is still here to be found but you have to look for it in all the unusual places for it's not to be found on the interstate highways. These inventions of post WWII mass transit have created wide cultural dead zones where nothing exists but ubiquitous neon signs, gas stations, fast food restaurants and a few chain stores dotting a barren landscape that was created solely for the sake of speed. You won't find America there.
"The float is a good one with mild water and a never ending choice of likely runs to cast towards. Today the fishing went good to great to good again with rainbows, cutbows and a few brown trout all rising to the dry fly. Most are what I'd call 'average' in size with some going to 18". I am surrounded by cottonwood forests and dwarfed by Montana's mountains. It truly is Big Sky country as the mountains greet you from every direction. Since having shed most of last winters snow, the river's water temperature is just high enough to make my evening bathing a great pleasure. Jumping into this river is like being a kid again...well maybe an old kid but fun none the less."
Through Oregon and Idaho and to Montana, I flew. Following hundreds of miles of two lane riverside roads that twisted and turned with each bend of the river. It was the best...bears, dear, eagles and miles of rivers without a fisherman to be seen, a motorcyclist's nirvana. "Gotta keep the eyes on the road," I keep reminding myself as these roadside attractions make traveling at high speeds a challenge in keeping it all together since hitting a dear at high speed or missing a turn to go flying off into the trees or into the river is not a motorcyclist's nirvana. Once I reached the top of Lola pass, I knew I had made it to Missoula and rode to meet my guide Scott for the float trip, but wow.....what a great ride!
"While Scott is working on another great riverside dinner, I'm sitting in the shade of a stand of Cottonwood trees, hot coffee sitting in the sand next to me, listening to Beethoven's 5th Piano Concerto playing on my laptop and watching a pair Ospreys glide up and down the river looking for their evening meal. I think you would be quite content here. This is truly majestic country. As the alpenglow creeps up the mountain side, the large flocks of geese I saw in the morning are back, flying in perfect formation just a few hundred feet above the water as they return to the river after a day of foraging in the nearby wheat fields. Honking and calling to each other, they flare off a bit after seeing our camp and soon disappear around the next bend in the river. Nice!"
"Scott is quite the river guide. A young 31, mild mannered and tolerates my regular casting screw-ups with nary a discouraging word. In addition to being a good river guide, he also enjoys hunting the local Elk and Deer which has been an added bonus for me at dinner time. Scott has made El and Deer a part of each evening meal and it is the best I have ever had. He's a great cook."
After three weeks and 2600 miles of riding some of the best and most interesting parts of the serpentine back roads of western American, I rolled into my Sonoma driveway to be greeted by Sparkle, the wonder dog, followed by Holly who was skipping down the front walk giving me a big smile and an even bigger hug. Nice.
Stephen Kyle
To book your next trip give us a call at Andras Outfitters 530.227.4837
www.andrasoutfitters.com
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