It was a great pleasure to escape into the backcountry just north of Yellowstone National Park a few summers ago and spend some time riding rough country, chilling around campfires and—of course—chasing fish. The Yellowstone cutthroat are truly a special species, and hands-down one of the more fun fish I’ve chased in recent years.
I was recently able to put together a little write-up to run alongside images from the trip for Big Life Magazine. The gang at Absaroka-Beartooth Outfitters are truly top-notch; Lonny, Cameron, and the entire gang have a way of making the backcountry feel very much like home. See the rest of the story here (toggle right to view the entire feature).
Here’s a brief snippet from the piece:
Sitting around the fire, comfortably ensconced on a dusty bed of dried pine needles, I look around at my companions. Most could have readily stepped from the screen of a John Wayne movie. Cameron and Lonny sit comfortably in their camp chairs, Cameron in the midst of telling some grand ranching tale, hand gestures and all. Lonny looks remarkably at home, and it’s no wonder, really. Her family has been running sheep in these mountains for generations, and she has the stories to prove it. For her, this is as much home as anywhere.
The wranglers are a wild bunch all their own; good guys who I would want by my side at any adventure. Seasoned ranch hand Patrick also runs a small-town bar (the Grizzly Bar in Roscoe, Montana) with his wife. Tall Jacob is a third-generation Montanan who competes in rodeo events when he’s not working the family ranch or in the backcountry. And young Jeremiah brings a quick whit and good tales from the annual Miles City Bucking Horse Sale.
It’s a motley crew, but the conversation is real, flowing freely around the flickering fire. We laugh when a mouse jumps from the log behind me into my lap before scurrying off into the blackness surrounding us. Just another creature that calls this place home, and will continue to do so long after we make the long ride back to civilization.
But for the moment, we grin and laugh in the darkness, eyes flashing and the bottle of whiskey catching the firelight as it’s passed around. For the moment, the rest of the world fades away and we’re newfound friends on an adventure; breathing clean air and watching the stars wheel overhead, tucked safely in the wilderness. And perhaps that’s the odd magic of it all; we’ve all gathered to chase a fish, to stalk through high mountain creek and ply clear waters for cutthroat. Once again, angling brought together an unexpected group of people and made an improbable clan of them.
There are no moose in Bull Moose Camp. There are, however, plenty of cowboys, horses, mules, and a curious supply of rather good boxed wine.