The Long Side of the Mountain

It is nearly impossible to set up a tent when the wind is howling like a banshee in heat.

When I camped at Sylvan Lake in the upper plateaus of the Beartooth Mountains of Montana, the wind was so bad that it was causing actual wakes in the lake. But I had no choice--I HAD to set up my tent. It was quickly getting dark, and this was my only shelter from the elements in the high alpine country.

I had already given up hope of starting a fire in this madness. Even lighting my Jetboil was impossible. How was I going to eat dinner? It's amazing how primal you get when the basic needs of living are difficult to accomplish.

I had really looked forward to visiting this special lake. It was unique to the gems dotting the plateaus of the Beartooths in that it was a source of Golden trout in Montana. The genetic purity of this beautiful fish found at this lake meant that that the Fish & Game used it to stock other lakes, which aren't many. Catching a Golden in Montana is a rare treat because they are few and far between. And Goldens are not native to Montana (a sticky issue for some anglers and biologists), so they are only found in a few scattered alpine lakes in the mountains. But I love fishing for this trout because it is one of the prettiest fish I've ever seen.

So the fact that it was impossible to fish this lake was infuriating to me.

Of course, that is the nature of the mountains. Mountain weather is usually on steroids. When it is nice and sunny, it is amazing and breathtaking. And then a storm can roll in an hour later and all hell breaks loose. That's why it's important to be prepared for any weather imaginable when in the alpine country, especially when there are no trees around to keep you dry.

Miraculously, I was somehow able to put up my tent without it blowing into the lake. I pride myself in getting a tent set up in just a few minutes, so I took the challenge eagerly. And I knew an important thing about the mountains...as soon as the weather changes, it will often change back just as quickly. Eventually, the winds calmed down to produce just a gentle lap on the lake shore, and I could cook my dinner at last.

I did try to cast a fly in to no avail. Not only was it still breezy, it was cold enough to turn my fingers to icicles as I attempted to tie on a fly. I only saw a few Goldens surfacing, and that bolstered my confidence and eagerness to cast out a fly.

But the lake was strangely quiet.

One difficulty of fishing the alpine lakes is that they usually need to be regularly stocked. Our Fish & Game do an excellent job maintaining the health of trout in these lakes, and they have regularly scheduled times when they bring bucketloads of young trout up to the lakes in helicopters--and away they go to their new home. Also, they often keep the trout to the native Westslope Cutthroat, which I feel is a worthy practice for a state that cares an awful lot about its outdoor recreation.

It becomes difficult to stock lakes with pure genetic strains of a fish that are increasingly become a rare commodity. Goldens are not endangered--they come from California and are plentiful in the nation. They are just quite rare in Montana. A byproduct of the 60s and 70s when lakes were starting to be stocked on a regular basis, Goldens were added to the list of fish that Montanans wanted to catch. But they weren't added to very many alpine lakes and fisheries in the state. There are about a dozen total spots in Montana to catch a Golden, and you usually have to hike a good distance to get to these spots.

So here I was at the Golden Spot for Goldens--supposedly the source of the elusive beautiful trout that I have grown to admire. Plus, I just wanted to really catch a rare fish in Montana!

Well, that day I never caught one. In fact, it was so cold up there at Sylvan that I left the next day. Eventually that evening, the wind calmed down just before sunset, the sun peeked out and lighted up the mountain above the lake, and I snapped the photograph above.

So now, I will forever have the memory of this lake with me in this picture. As always from my trips in the mountains, there are no regrets. Life in the mountains is wild and vibrant and free. It is in my soul, and a necessary part of my existence. One adventure in the Montana wilderness leads to planning for the next one, and I literally can't wait for the snow to melt.

Unfortunately, as I write this now in late May--it is snowing big puffy flakes outside...

Ah, Montana. You never cease to amaze me with your surprises. I guess I will have to wait to venture into your mountains yet again.

In the meantime, I will keep writing and dreaming about you.

If you like what you read today, please consider supporting my writing with the button below, and you can follow my next article in this blog I'm calling The Long Side of the Mountain. I will be writing more about my adventures in the Absaroka Beartooths and other wonderful mountains of Montana.

Cheers to the coming Summer!