In the mid-seventies I spent a few years in Bozeman, MT attending college and attempting to be a filmmaker. Eventually, I turned to television, moved north and really never went back. Until this summer.
Some of my more memorable fishing experiences involved the Gallatin River, but that was nearly 50 years ago. When you put it like that, I feel quite old.
A lot has changed in the Gallatin Valley, but the river is a constant. Headwaters in Yellowstone Park, the Gallatin flows north first meandering through alpine meadows and then rushing through a rocky canyon. It spills out onto the farmlands west of Bozeman, eventually joining the Jefferson and Madison to become the Missouri river.
This road trip was a shakedown of camper van and kit. We didn’t even have fly rods. Two days were spent camped mere feet from the river’s edge. A vantage point that offered many restful hours watching the stream flow by.
