Fishing for Buffalo

Spike’s was the kind of place where a rounder felt comfortable telling lies. It huddled in the southeast quadrant of where Old Placer Creek Road crossed Montana Highway 333 and became Last Lost Mountain Road which bridged the river and dodged into the mountains beyond. Beside the rickety one lane, wooden decked bridge, There was … Continue reading Fishing for Buffalo →

She is that Gullible or the Story of a River

The Last Lost River rises from waning glaciers, snowmelt, and springs in the Deception Mountains of Montana and drops precipitously and swiftly, with an anger and fury that only the most avid fishermen dare challenge, into the valley that shares its name. There it slowly changes character becoming first a rugged swift stream. Then, just … Continue reading She is that Gullible or the Story of a River →