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September 01, 2016

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Teach Something, Learn Something

I got a note from Yvon Chouinard who doesn’t use email and is notorious for brief messages. This one arrived on the back of a card with the word Patagonia on the front, via snail mail. The note read, “Come fishing. I’ll be in Montana 7/20 -8/12.” I really appreciated the invitation and it sounded like I could come about any time around the end of July. But still, I had a pretty full schedule and Montana is very big place.

Wild Idea had a harvest scheduled in Montana for the first week in August so I arranged to travel with a mutual friend, Jim Weaver, to the base of the Bob Marshall Wilderness in the wake of our harvest semi and crew. I scribbled a note on a post card and sent it back to Yvon, “Jim Weaver and I will be in Montana during the week of 7/25. See you there.”

I meet Jim in Billings. He threw his fishing rod and sleeping bag in the back of my Toyota and we kept moving northwest. It was country that Jim and I had traveled many times before, but we hadn’t seen each other for a year or so and our catch-up conversations got the best of us. Colton, Wild Idea’s sourcing manager and the guy who had put the harvest deal together, was running ahead of us in his pickup and kept texting us, “Where are you guys?”

For a longtime we didn’t really know where we were, but it turned out that we’d missed a couple of turns and regained consciousness up near Fort Benton, seventy miles east of our destination of Choteau. But that didn’t bother us. We told Colton to find a place to eat in Choteau and we’d be there ASAP.

Montana Cabin

The semi and harvest crew were set up and ready the night before the harvest was scheduled to begin. The Bechtold family runs the ranch and Dan O'Brien on Harvest they put us up in very old, classic, mountain cabins in the shadow of the Bob Marshall. The buffalo grazed on the shoulders of the mountains and cold-water streams ran gin-clear through the ranch. Our hosts were a charming, handsome young couple with four bright and active children that gathered around our somewhat rough harvest crew and soaked up what was happening like puppies licking up gravy. They marveled at the way the crew went about their work. Nothing about the shooting, skinning, gutting, trimming, sanitizing, and cooling of the buffalo escaped their curious eyes. They touched everything they could, hides and horns. Hooves and entrails. They watched the butcher’s knives flash a million miles an hour over the sharpening steels. They watched the work of the meat inspector and asked a million quests. Why this? Why that? How’s that work? Sometimes in the world concerned with conservation, sustainability, and social justice it is hard to be optimistic about the future. But when children are gathered around, watching and asking questions, there is hope.                          

Jim and I stayed there by the Bob Marshall for three nights. We shared meals with the harvest crew and with the Bechtolds and talked of our passions for sustainability and good food. I got to catch a nice cutthroat trout on a dry fly from a calm pool that was so clear I could see him thinking as the fly floated over him, once, twice, three times, boom! And the pool churned wild as a blender.

The next day we were heading south and still had no idea where Yvon was or what he was doing. I called his office in Ventura. “Where’s Yvon?” I asked his assistant.

“Isn’t he with you guys? He left Jackson yesterday.”

“Where was he going?”

“The Bighorn River. He’s got a place for you to sleep if you got bags. Dinner tonight at the Bighorn Inn.”

When I relayed the information to Jim he shrugged. “Five-six hours, no sweat.”              

We traveled through Lewis and Clarke country, through the upper Missouri basin, past the Jefferson, Madison, Gallatin, and along the Yellowstone. We veered south toward Fort Smith, in the middle of the Crow Indian Reservation, and drove along what could be the best trout river in the world. I had an inkling of what Yvon was up to because he had once mentioned that it was a shame the politics of the Bighorn River had come down in such a way that the Crow Indians realized almost no benefit from the famous, revenue generating river that wound through their reservation. He told me that the Crow people did almost no fishing and that he wanted to teach a few Crow kids how to fish so they could get good jobs in the industry and perhaps start a tiny, Indian fishing revolution. I was telling Jim what I thought Yvon had in mind as Montana slid past on both sides of the Toyota. He smiled but didn’t say a word.

We found the house that Yvon had arranged and that evening, after a memorable meal, we sat around the living room table with two other conspirators - Craig Mathews and Mark Harbaugh - and rigged up a dozen tenkara fly rods. The plan was to meet Anne Marie Emery, the executive director of the Bighorn River Alliance, on the next morning. Yvon was tying knots in monofilament line. “She’s going to have some Crow kids rounded up. Meet ’em right there on the river at eight o’clock.” He laughed. “Our goal is to get each kid to catch a fish.”

Yvon Chouinard & Dan O'Brien on Crow ReservationBy nine o’clock the next morning we were all waist deep in the Bighorn with a dozen Crow kids staring at the water where their lines disappeared, trying hard to feel the fly floating along in the current.
Yvon Chouinard teaching Crow Kids to Fish
They moved the rod tip the way Yvon had taught them, waiting for the tug on the line that they had never felt.
Crow Kids Fishing the Big Horn
The girls struck first, with one natural fisherwoman catching three nice rainbows in full view of her jealous father who watched from the shore. Five minutes later, he was wading in, wearing blue jeans and cowboy boots, and waving a borrowed rod. He wanted to know what this fly-fishing was all about.

Dan O'Brien & Yvon Chouinard

Later in the day I stood thigh deep in the river, standing behind the old master, watching him twitch the tip of his tenkara rod as he moved down stream at a patient pace that made him appear to be part of the river. The air was cooling and the kids had all caught their fish. A few stood on shore behind us, watching: A little loop cast, let the fly drift, a twitch, drift, twitch, drift, twitch. Another step down stream and loop the line out again. 

Crow Kids Fishing on the Big Horn River

I recalled what Yvon had said first thing that morning. “If we can just get them to catch a darned fish. Feel life on the end of that line.” He laughed like a kid himself. “Something they never imagined. Bang. Whole new world.” 

 

 

 

 


Comments

pat

September 02, 2016

This piece is one of the sweetest possible. Thanks again, Dan.

pl

Daniel Mittan

September 02, 2016

OUTSTANDING!!! Living this experience vicariously through the written word! Well done! You are ALL legends. Grateful that you get pleasure in SHARING! Thank you for the inspiration!

Harry Greene

September 02, 2016

My god this is so wonderful, beyond words—almost but not quite, you nailed it!

Kathy Day

September 02, 2016

With tears in my eyes, this 61 year old lady, remembers the first time I felt that tug of life on the end of the line. I might not have been 10 like those Crow kids but I sure felt like one! What a lifelong, fantastic, wonder-filled gift you all gave them!

Pablo E Arguello

September 02, 2016

I wish I could have been there with you guys. Thanks for the beautiful story.

Janet Dales

September 02, 2016

Thanks for bringing back the thrill of that first fish on a fly! Wish I could again without arthritis, but memories of cruising the West will do. Passing these skills on to the kids is the best thing we can do.

Nicole Dupre

September 02, 2016

Great writing, Dan, as usual.
I heard you are coming to France for the Vincennes American Literature Festival. It will be quite a change from Montana fly-fishing or South Dakota ranching ! But I will be glad to listen to you.
Nicole

Paul Knowles

September 02, 2016

Good article Dan. Inspires me to wrap up some personal projects, break out the unused (20+ yrs!) fly gear and take the time to explore that country I love, during my often travels between Washington & Colorado .

Bill Day

September 02, 2016

Good story Dan. You are correct, this may be the best fly fishing stream in the country. Kathy and I have been their, done that, and what a joy. To the heart of your story, teaching “kids” to fly fish is something they can do the rest of there life. It is a sport that more schools should offer, or at least offer as a physical education program.

mary

September 02, 2016

fabulous story and deep gratitude for sharing! teaching and sharing is what it is all about.

Bob Watland

September 02, 2016

Loved the story and great pics. Great product too. Have a great day and God bless.

Roxanne Fox

September 02, 2016

I fish here in Louisiana on a regular basis, how wonderfully enlightening to read and feel the different fishing experience. Thank you for taking the time to do an amazing act of kindness and further children’s dreams. I believe a person who fishes can conquer the world with hope, faith and skill.

Cheryl

September 02, 2016

Wonderfully written for any reader to smile and thrill with every movement of the line, current of the river and tug of a caught trout! Thank you!

Chuck Beatty

September 02, 2016

So well written that I can feel the cool water of the Bighorn passing by my legs. Thanks for taking me with you, Dan.

Jane

September 02, 2016

I will be forever grateful that I placed an order with this company. I am now blessed to receive these gems.

Liz Aicher

September 03, 2016

Thanks for the tour, Dan! I plan on going up to Montana next summer, and to swing by Rapid City to see you folks!

Lee Myers

September 03, 2016

Oh, those unintended consequences. When the Stinking Waters of the Shoshone and the Bighorn River from the Wind River, joined at my hometown of Lovell, Wyoming, and then got impounded at the Yellowtail Dam and when we bemoaned the new dam on the free-flowing river, who would have predicted a world-class trout stream would be created.

R. Claudia Fiegelman

September 07, 2016

Dan, I look forward to everything you write. The words flow outward off the page and come to life. It was a pleasure meeting you a few years ago at sd school of mines and I enjoyed that conversation. Thank you for being who you are and embracing life with zest and fervor for carrying one tradition. Those kids will never forget that day. God bless you!

Christine

September 07, 2016

Always such a pleasure to read your words.

Christy Day

September 07, 2016

Teach a person to fish….This is so moving and magnificently written. What a gift!

Melissa (Horton) Moore

September 07, 2016

Thanks for sharing- so much fun to read, as always!

Kirk Bennett

September 08, 2016

Haven’t fished the Bighorn in a handful of years now, but today I see it, I hear it, I smell it but mostly I feel it. Thank you my friend!

Wendell Affield

September 08, 2016

Wonderful story. Nothing more rewarding than teaching children.

Mary

September 08, 2016

Like puppies licking up gravy! Great line, I can just visualize those 4 children!

Loyd Price

September 08, 2016

Good for you guys. I bet the kids had a great time.

Sheryl Browne

September 25, 2016

Loved your book “Buffalo For The Broken Heart” and your meat that I ordered and will keep on ordering, thankyou for your heard work and dedication to balancing what has been altered. You are living your dream and I commend you sir.

Karen Filter

September 26, 2016

I fished my whole life! Nothing like a stringer of perch from Lake Erie or a beautiful “Brookie” from a creek in the Rockies!!! Thanks for your varied contributions to the kids, Dan!

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