Long before the water we fish in our rivers and reservoirs makes its way through our hometown of Bozeman, Montana, its journey begins high in the mountains. Snow melts and cascades down from high above as the weather warms and summer sets in, filling and thawing the small high-elevation lakes that feed our streams all summer long.  Alpine lakes and the snowy peaks surrounding them are the source of the precious water that feeds our many award-winning trout streams here in Big Sky country. While they can be challenging to access, nothing is more gratifying than connecting below surrounding looming peaks. Because they spend most of the year under ice and they inherently receive very little pressure, these remote fisheries offer a truly special fishing experience.

No matter how you slice it, fishing is a lot of work. Here in southwest Montana, you can take the time and the tedious efforts required to fool highly pressured and wary trout in the valleys of our region. Or, you can hike far and high to access fish that have no idea that hooks even exist. For me personally, I prefer the latter.

My first experience fishing alpine lakes was while backpacking through the Spanish Peaks Wilderness near Bozeman. The target was a tiny gathering of water no bigger than a football field, nestled a full-day’s hike from the nearest trailhead. Well over 3,500 feet of elevation gain, and a 20-mile round trip meant this gem was scarcely accessed even by the most committed trail runners and hikers, let alone anglers. My cousin, my brother, and I planned a weekend trip to camp and enjoy some solitude amongst the peaks of the Madison range. I was just along for the ride. At the time, I was new to this beautiful and mountainous state. From the very start, I was glued to my camera's viewfinder photographing the looming mountains, winding trails, and any wildlife we encountered on the trek.

After a grueling 6-hour hike in, we arrived at the lake. In the usual order of operations, we selected a good spot, set up our campsite, gathered water and fuel for a fire, and began exploring the beautiful surrounding landscape. My cousin, an avid fly fisherman, had heard great things about the fishing at this lake and was itching to get a line in the water.  Once we settled in, he wasted no time grabbing his rod and made his way to the lake shore.

It was immediately clear to me that the fishing here would be completely different experience. Fishing the salmon runs of Northern California’s Sacramento Valley and the heavily pressured streams of the Northern Sierras were quite different from the remote alpine waters of the greater Yellowstone region. The tiny lake painted gold by the afternoon sun was alive with activity. Bugs flying around and flopping onto the surface were being engulfed by the thousands from below by the cutthroat trout that populated the lake, each bite causing little ripples across the glassy water. Like a gentle rain was falling, the only sound you could hear was the faint buzzing of the mosquitos and a little bloop every time a fish sipped one down from below. The crystal clear water enabled us to watch the hungry trout patrol back and forth in schools along the shoreline in search of food. 

Excitedly throwing his line in the water with a small silver streamer, my cousin began hooking fish on nearly every cast. Even if the presentation was awful and the fish spooked, they would circle right back and eat the fly. Being able to target the fish by sight, we watched them chase and eat our offering as we stripped it past them. As we took turns casting and reeling in the eager trout, whoever wasn't fishing would toss little granite pebbles into the lake to see if the fish would eat those as well. Every time they would dart forward and gulp down the pebbles like it was the last bite of food they would ever get.

There are two important environmental factors that make these cutties so much fun to fish for.

1. They spend about half of the year under a sheet of ice that prevents them from getting any kind of food, meaning that when the ice melts off in the summer, they’re extra hungry.
   
   
2. The more difficult these lakes are to access, the better. The further you venture to access these fish, the less familiar they are with anglers. Head a day hike into the mountains and the odds are good the fish you’ll find have probably never seen a hook in their life. In easy-to-access spots that see a lot of pressure from fishermen, fish spook easily and are wary of the slightest inconsistencies in a presentation like a splash on the surface, a shadow from you walking on the bank, or even the distortion that your line creates on the top of the water.

This makes for targets that don't spook, are very aggressive, and will basically eat anything you put in front of them. The only thing you typically have to do is tie on a shiny leech pattern like a wooly bugger, a Kreelix, or a balanced leech and throw it in front of them. Usually, there is no guessing where the fish are, no guessing what to tie on, and no taking extreme care to ensure they don't see your line or spook by a bad presentation. It is without a doubt different than any kind of fishing out there and is a welcome diversion from the necessary finesse of fishing the high-pressure waters closer to town. 

I’m always anxious for the summer months. There’s just something about hiking as far away as I can from everyday life, losing myself amongst the rocky peaks, and catching more fish than I can count. For me, it’s a necessary reset.  I often think of the lessons I could learn from the trout I find in these remote lakes. I think a gentle reminder to put aside the stress of everyday life and just briefly live in the moment is something we could all benefit from.