July 2-8, 2025
I thought my fly fishing schedule had already hit full capacity long before Jerry invited me to fish the Missouri River in July. He floated the idea while we were chasing roosterfish in La Ventana back in May—because, of course, that’s when rational decisions are made. Plus both our wives were getting jelouse of how mch time we were speding together. I hadn’t fished my old Montana haunts in years, and let’s be honest—there’s nothing like the trout streams of Big Sky Country. Iceland? Exotic. Patagonia? Dramatic. Henderson Springs? Lots of big rainbows. But Montana? That’s home water for the soul.
The plan was simple: fly to Helena, and Jerry would pick me up. For the past nine summers of retirement, he’s booked a full month with a guide and fished across the state with his wife and daughter tagging in when they can. This year, due to unexpected scheduling twists, Jerry was flying solo the last week of his trip—so he invited me to crash his hotel in Helena and fish the Missouri and Holter Lake for five glorious days. How could I resist?
If you’ve never been to Helena, Montana, here’s the rundown: it’s heaven with a drift boat. The airport is so close to everything that your Uber driver is still sipping his coffee when you arrive. Our hotel was ten minutes from the runway, and from there it was 34 minutes to Craig—gateway to the Missouri—and just 15 minutes to Holter Lake, one of the best stillwater trout lakes around. The place is crawling with fly rods. Every other car has a rod vault, a drift boat, or a trout sticker. You can get a burger, catch a movie, and buy 40 pounds of jerky at Costco without ever leaving a five-minute radius. And did I mention—there’s no traffic. Even on July 4th weekend. Helena’s what happens when a town is designed by trout bums who also value convenience.
The Missouri River below Holter Dam is one of the finest trout fisheries in America. Cold, steady tailwater flows keep the trout happy, and there are thousands of fish per mile—many in the 18–24″ range. The hatches are legendary. You can fish it DIY from shore, float tube, or
pram. There’s more access than a public library, and even on a holiday weekend, the river felt uncrowded. I asked one shop why it wasn’t busier, and they said, “Fishing hasn’t been great the last couple years.” If this was slow, I’m not sure I could emotionally handle “good.”
Jerry outfished me three-to-one—indicator fishing is now his superpower after years of practice with his guide, Tod. Tod is the Yoda of Montana guides: lives in his truck, drifts by day, camps by night, and eats gas station burritos like sacred offerings. He’s also a former graphic designer from Bozeman with a soft voice and a sixth sense for trout. He rents us a banged-up Honda Civic we lovingly called La Bamba, which Jerry uses to meet Tod and his boat at whatever river they’re hitting that day. Tod provides lunch, flies, spare rods, and trout karma. The system is beautiful: Jerry chills in a hotel, Tod guides, La Bamba breaks down, and the hotel staff personally jump-starts it to make sure they don’t miss a hatch.
Jerry’s hotel of choice? The Home2 Suites by Hilton. He’s such a regular there, they treat him like family. They probably have a framed picture of him somewhere near the complimentary breakfast. One morning, when La Bamba refused to wake up, the entire hotel staff sprang into action like a NASCAR pit crew to get us on the water. The people of Helena? Salt of the earth. Friendly, patriotic, and always ready to lend a jumper cable.
Speaking of patriotism—let’s talk fireworks. We had a fourth-floor view over the Helena Valley on July 4th, and let me tell you, these folks take fireworks seriously. For three nights straight, the skies erupted like a full-scale battle reenactment of “1776: The Sequel.” Shopping carts at roadside stands were loaded with more explosive power than a Navy frigate. “I only spent $600 this year—keeping it light,” one guy said, unironically.
From our window, we watched the entire valley light up from 6 p.m. to midnight, nonstop. Entire neighborhoods formed ad hoc militias of grill masters and lawn-chair snipers, launching Roman candles in perfect choreography. It wasn’t just fireworks—it was a community-organized artillery exhibition disguised as a block party. Boomtown, baby.
So, thank you, Jerry—for the invite, the laughs, and the reminder that Helena isn’t just a capital city. It’s a capital idea. Who knows—this trip might just become a yearly thing. There are so many rivers, so little time, and one banged-up Civic that still has a few miles left in her.
After a week floating the Missouri River with Tod Scott and Jerry, my memory was about as tangled as my tippet on day three. Fortunately, we pieced it together—over laughs, new Hot Sauces and flies, and some questionable recall. Here’s the official (or at least semi-accurate) trip log before it all fades into the ether of good times:
Missouri River Days: A Montana Fly Fishing Recap
Day 1: Dam to Craig – The Classic Long Drift
We kicked off the trip with the legendary Dam to Craig float. It’s a full-day drift with lots of water, fish, and potential for humble bragging. Jerry landed about 11, I got either four or five—so we’ll round up to 15 total and call ourselves heroes.
Enter the Zirdle Bug: part Girdle Bug, part Zonker, and all business. Paired with a trico nymph dropper, it was Jerry’s deadly Beauty-and-the-Beast combo. I, however, tried to keep it classy with a size 16 PMD nymph and a zebra midge. Spoiler: the trout weren’t impressed.
Jerry was getting three grabs to my one, so I waved the white flag and let Tod rig me up. Even with the upgraded setup, Jerry’s ninja hooksets kept putting fish in the net. My only redemption? Targeting super-selective risers with dries. It wasn’t the wind or current making it tough—it was the floating salad bar of weeds tangling my leader. Still, I landed a couple of 20-inchers and felt like a dry fly samurai.
Day 2: Wolf Creek to Craig – The Loop-de-Loop
We chose the shorter float today, looping around Wolf Creek like we were stuck in a time warp. The same pod of rising fish from Day 1 kept us entertained all afternoon. I still couldn’t crack the code on indicators, so I played photographer while Jerry landed fish after fish. I netted a few just to feel involved. It was a rhythm day—steady action, smooth drifts, and rising trout.
Day 3: The Wind Strikes Back
Let’s call it a reality check. Upstream wind turned the day into a rower’s CrossFit workout. Between the gusts and the tangles, I think I landed one fish. Maybe. Jerry again about half a dozen. We bailed a bit early and visited the Craig fly shops, where a 4th of July BBQ kept spirits high. Nothing says “patriotism” like free burgers and dry fly talk. These flyshops are impressive with the biggest selection of trout flies I have ever seen. I bought some hard to find materials for Sapsuk Flies.
Day 4: Redemption on Holter Lake
Holter Lake came through in a big way. Nothing under 20 inches, and every fish looked like it had been hitting the protein shakes. Chironomids and Calibaetis were on the menu, and we dialed in the depth and fly combo.
Fishing Holter is a stillwater purist’s dream. Gravel flats, weedy bays, and glassy coves full of pods of cruising fish. It took us some time to find the drop-offs—and by that, I mean we spent an hour fishing a 4-foot dep flat before realizing the fish were partying elsewhere. Once we relocated, it was game on.
I finally got on the board by stripping a subsurface Calibaetis nymph on an intermediate line. Three quick hookups gave me hope. A few more on dries, and I started to think I might not embarrass myself.
And then it happened: Tod, setting up Jerry’s rod, left the Sky G resting on the oar. One twitchy trout hit a fly mid-sink, and the whole rig yeeted itself into the lake like a guided missile.
Tod dove like a man chasing a runaway lottery ticket but came up empty. We searched, we laughed, we cried. Somewhere, a trout is now the proud owner of a premium 6-weight.
Day 5 (Half Day): One More for the Road
We snuck in a half-day session at Holter before I had to fly back to reality. We hit our now-trusted drop-offs and landed about a dozen fish between us. This time, no rods were sacrificed to the lake gods. I even got some underwater footage with the Insta360 X5.
Flies That Worked
- Zirdle Bug (modified with flash and crazy legs)
- Sow bugs
- Juju Baetis
- Paragons
- Zebra Midges (more hype than bite for me)
Tippet: 3X to 5X. Sweet spot was 4X with long drifts. I tested Cortland Ultra Premium 5X—strong, thin, but possibly temperamental. Snapped once above the knot despite a proper lube job. Still, it’s worth having on hand for technical trout.
Heading Home: The Golf Layover
Leaving Holter Lake at noon for a 2:00 flight felt luxurious. Showered, packed, and at Helena Airport by 1:00. With maybe 20 people total in the whole terminal, it felt like a private jet experience.
We grabbed a burger at The Outpost (best of the trip), said our goodbyes, and I breezed through TSA PreCheck solo. Then the weather hit: Denver delays.
But here’s a silver lining I didn’t expect—a Priority Pass Lounge called GOLF EXPERIENCE. Full golf simulators, free drink, and snacks. I played a quick round and hit the range, then still had time for a solid dinner.
Thanks, Jerry.
Helena, you’ve got a fan. DIY trips here are in my future. Maybe even an annual ritual. So many rivers, so little time.
