The Last Good Fishing Days in Missoula

Matt Ehrich was on his 33rd consecutive day of guiding when he unloaded his boat onto the banks of the mighty Blackfoot River, handed me a fly rod and told my brother, Landon, and me to get in. We had booked him for two days, and we were joining him on his final stretch of rowing, untangling other people’s lines and suffering bad casts before he finally got a day off.

“What are you planning to do on your day off?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll probably go fishing.”

A true addict — exactly what you want in a fly guide.

This was in June, during the Blackfoot River’s salmonfly hatch, the loud and celebrated portion of Missoula’s fishing calendar. Anglers travel from around the world hoping to intercept the enormous orange insects during a window that can last anywhere from around 12 hours to a week.

The salmonflies are big, all right, and we were in the thick of their hatch. They clung to streamside branches and swarmed above our boat like circling birds. But even then, the fishing was not the frenzy of flopping bodies in the boat that I had been prepped for.

I landed a few whitefish, a baby rainbow or two. Matt and Landon had plenty of theories of why we weren’t catching more: The water was too warm. It was too cold. We were too early. We were too late. The fish had filled themselves on salmonflies. The stretch had been overfished. They were eating but not committing. They were there but not hungry.

Even those who knew fishing best could not explain why one of the most celebrated hatches on one of the world’s most celebrated trout rivers had produced such mediocre fishing. But that is the thing about fly fishing: Perfect timing and perfect conditions still cannot guarantee that the fish will cooperate.

Then, I went fishing in October.

There was no famous hatch swirling above me, and no globe-trotting crowds were elbowing for position. But the river was alive, and within my first hour on the water, I’d hooked more solid, aggressive trout than during my entire June trip.

And, best of all, I had the stretch to myself.

I had stumbled into what many local anglers consider the best-kept secret of the season. 

The folks at The Missoulian Angler said that “the last week of September and the first two weeks of October is the best fishing of the year.” Aidan Morton at Grizzly Hackle Fly Shop agrees, calling October “arguably the best time of year to catch big trout” because the fish are eager to bulk up before winter, meaning dry flies, nymphs and streamers can all produce.

By fall, the summer crowds have cleared out, leaving the rivers low, cool and crystal clear. Golden cottonwood leaves float past in place of the June salmonflies, and the banks feel wonderfully empty.

But, as is always true with fly fishing, it is variable. Matt said that October can fish very well and is a great option for a flexible traveler. The last big bug of the season, the October caddis, hatches sporadically around Missoula in the fall and catching the fish feeding on it can make for incredible dry fly fishing. Baetis and a few other bugs show up too, he says.

Cold-blooded trout become less active as the water cools, compressing the best fishing into the warmest portion of the day. In summer, we launched early to stay ahead of the heat, but in October, there is enough time for coffee in Missoula before fishing and a beer downtown after the light slips behind the mountains.

Prime fall fishing around Missoula generally carries through the first half of October and sometimes holds toward the end of the month, depending on water temperature and weather. Most guides’ seasons are winding down in October, so booking can be easier with less demand, if you can get in before the snow hits.

Missoula itself is primed for fall

Five mountain ranges engulf the Missoula valley, and public lands sprawl beyond the neighborhoods in all directions. The Clark Fork River cuts right through downtown, where river surfers play on Brennan’s Wave next to old brick storefronts and glowing dive-bar signs.

It’s a town built around its water. To the east, the Blackfoot carves through dramatic canyons. To the south, the Bitterroot meanders down a broad, scenic valley. Rock Creek tumbles through rock canyons just outside town, and alpine lakes are tucked within the surrounding treelines. 

With four legendary blue-ribbon trout streams within a short drive of downtown, Missoula is a true diamond in the fly box.

The fall window is short, and when the snow finally locks in, these rivers will go quiet until spring. But right now? The air is sharp, the cottonwoods are glowing gold, and the trout are waiting.