32. Madison River

Mile: 3,135

To my left was Hebgen Lake, the far bank was illuminated by the morning sun feeling it’s warmth. Passing Happy Hour Bar and Grill drew a smile from my face remembering how I, along with four locals, closed that bar down just a week earlier. The bartender treated us more like fellow employees than customers, having us taking the trash out, sweeping, and the like. She finally kicked us out a little after 11pm, an hour after she locked the front door because they technically close at 10pm. While I was walking out to the Pearl to end the evening, one of the locals spoke up, “Hey, you want to join us? We’re going to my house to hang out for bit longer.” Laughing to myself, I changed course and walked on with them. Thankful for the new friends and the laughter we shared from that evening kept my smile rockin’ well after the bar disappeared in my rear view mirror. 

To my right was a little gas station with a small selection of groceries I had stopped at the week before. While I was there, the bottom dropped out and let loose a torrential downpour. It gave me an excuse to make friends with the owner of the place, an extremely nice lady who was no more than 4’11” named Kim Anne. Turns out she had purchased the place a year before with group of investors and had grown it to encompass twelve cabins there just north of the lake. She ended up showing me pictures of a massive snow storm that had hit last year this time and halted all their construction. We chatted for a bit and finally when the down pour stopped I gave her one last “goodbye” and headed onward. I ran into her at a breakfast spot down the road the next morning and she gave me firm instructions to stop back in next time I was traveling through. I promised her I would. 

In front of me several miles down the road was the launch ramp on the Madison River where we were meeting Josh Hampton to rip some lips and catch some big trout. Josh is one of the nicest people I’ve met on this trip. It was only because of a random run in back just outside Jackson, WY with a guy who went to Harding that I ever met Josh. But since we met we have been fishing three times already in less than ten days. He has outfitted an incredible flyfishing raft, a sort of zombie apocalypse style drift raft with a custom internal frame to hold three seats, ice chest, dry storage box, yeti mugs, oars, and I could keep going on for days. It’s truly a thing of beauty. You could take this down class four rapids or down a calm stream catching big lunkers. He does a combination and uses it to get to big trout.

Behind me was a conked out man snoring away. My old roommate and good buddy Zach Newman was sawing logs stretched out on my bed in Pearl and had been for the last 60 miles. When we were getting ready to go he asked, “Hey, would you mind if I slept in the bed while you drove?” I laughed and gave my approval. I didn’t know how much sleep he’d actually get with me turning left and right, stopping and going. But shockingly, he was out like a light and from the sound of it probably got better sleep than he has in a long time. Part of that might be due to him and his wife having added a baby girl to their family in the last year. In fact, it looked so amazing that we swapped places on the way back after the fishing trip and I took a little hour long coma. I mean, I was gone! That is the best way to travel hands down! Sign me up for a self driving car if they come with a bed in the back!

The fishing was phenomenal. Josh is a selfless stud of a dude. He manned those oars the entire trip and let Zach and I cast the whole day. The hopper was hot! Catching trout on foam body grasshoppers is one of the most addictive drugs in the line up. I can’t say from experience about other drugs but to put this in the category of dopamine dropping drugs is a correct assessment. I can’t get enough of it! And thankfully, the trout couldn’t either.