The Good People of Ennis

[Diane (Trosclair) Luebbers]

THE GOOD PEOPLE OF ENNISIt was rumored that Saturday would be a gorgeous fall day. Temps were supposed to soar into the 70's today- unusual, I thought, for Montana, but then, I’d just moved here from Virginia a few months ago. What did I know? I did know that everything I'd ever read or heard about trout fishing decried this being a productive day to catch trout, but as usual, I cast all common sense aside and decided to go up to Ennis to fish the Madison anyway.After packing the car and fueling up, I head out of Bozeman toward Ennis. I never get tired of that drive. That big blue sky that stretches on forever and those purple mountains in the distance always makes it hard to keep my eyes on the road that weaves and curves through the golden foothills of Madison County.I am so excited - I just KNOW today will be THE day - the fishing trip I'd talk about all winter long - the day I'd catch my first BIG Brown trout - a monster- a hog - a football-sized mammoth like my co-worker, a resident of Ennis and an expert fly fisherman, so casually brags about catching all the time, though I suspect some of this talk is just to torture me.The Madison suddenly appears off to my right, then to my left. Those sparkling, cobalt blue waters never cease to enchant and enthrall me. Today, I smiled, today's the day.I roll into Ennis around noon and in spite of my plans to spend the next seven hours on the river, I can't resist the tiny main street's charm. What can I say? I’m a woman. Shopping first, then fishing. First stop, Buckboard Mercantile, a wonderful shop full of great antiques. I chat for awhile with the two sisters that own the place and ask if they sell used fly fishing gear. They don't, but kindly recommend the store across the street, Nearly New, as a place I might be able to find what I was looking for. As we chat, we hear a siren go off and an ambulance speeds past the front window of the store. The sisters look at each other and voice their concern that someone must have been injured in a car accident.Thirty minutes later, I'm buying a pair of used Orvis hip waders at Nearly New from two more, kind, helpful ladies. Another siren wails, another ambulance speeds by the front window. Two ambulances? Again I see concern in the faces of the good people of Ennis over the possibility that someone they know might be hurt.I finish checking out and look at my watch. 12:30! What am I doing still hanging around town? I need to get to the river, daylight is wasting! I say my goodbyes but for some reason decide to get their phone number before I leave. Prices are good; maybe they'll have more fishing gear come through the doors sometime soon.I get in my car and point it toward my destination - next stop, Burnt Tree fishing access! Then I feel my stomach rumble. Hmmm. If I don't eat something, I'll be starving on the river. I pull into a parking spot and sit down at a table in Nugget Kelly's. Another siren wails, another ambulance speeds by. What is going on anyway??? Has there been some horrific pile up that they need three ambulances? What are the chances of that out here in the middle of nowhere?I look over at the couple sitting nearby, the expressions on their faces echoing my fears. A polite, blonde waitress walks up to my table and serves my eggs and toast, just as yet another ambulance speeds by, lights flashing. This time, something is very different. It takes me a minute, and then it dawns on me. No siren. What the hell? I sit there shaking my head, and then look over at the other couple again. They haven’t a clue either.All of a sudden the pieces click together in my brain and I break into a smile and laugh out loud. Ennis couldn’t possibly have more than one ambulance. It must have been the same ambulance every time!“Must be a drill!” I say. “Probably so many calls from the locals, they had to turn the sirens off.” The other couple nods and smiles in relief, then returns to their lazy Saturday breakfast.Twenty minutes later I'm FINALLY pulling into Burnt Tree fishing access. I park and start pulling on my gear. A man holding a trash bag walks by picking up trash and tidying up the access area.“Which way should I go?” I ask.The man pauses and smiles. “Are you Diane?” he asks.WOW! The good people of Ennis are amazing. Not only are they kind, and friendly, and concerned about the welfare of their neighbors, but somehow they know who I am!!!“Uh, yes,” I reply, totally dumbfounded.He walks up and shakes my hand. “I'm David.”“Oh! Yes! David!” I had just recently met David, a resident of Ennis and a member of the Madison River Foundation, at the Ennis Fly Fishing festival a few weeks ago. We chat a few minutes and then he points out a few choice spots for me to fish. Soon after, I head toward the river, vibrating with anticipation. I just KNOW I'm going to catch a monster Brown now! How lucky to run into David and have him personally steer me to the right places to fish!The scenery is spectacular - more blue Montana sky than I could ever wish for, fall's fiery yellows and oranges on the trees near the river, the omnipresent purple-gray mountains in the distance. The surface of the water sparkles with the fierce intensity of a million diamonds, blinding me with its brilliance as I make my way to the river’s edge.As I near the first fishing spot, I see the tantalizing rings of rising trout feeding on the surface. YES! This is gonna be great! I move into position and make a few awkward casts into the strong wind. No success. Several flies and a half hour later, I realize I am going to have to get in a better position.Just as I am about to move, a deer bounds out of the woods upstream from me and crashes into the shining, liquid-silver waters. In the blinding sunlight, all I can see is its black silhouette as it splashes across the river and bounds off across the fields on the other side. I shake my head in disbelief. Does anyone here ever get used to all this breathtaking beauty? Do they ever take it for granted? I fervently hope not.A half hour later, I'm still at the same place, vainly trying to get those blasted fish to take my fly. I know the guides all tell me to cast a few times and keep moving, but I don't want to. I'm comfortably ensconced, I know there's fish here, and I hate spending all my time moving around when I could just sit here and enjoy the scenery and wait for these fish to forget I'm here. But I'm not catching any fish. All right, all right! I grumble. The damn guides say move, so I'll move.I climb off the comfortable rock I've been sitting on, and try to cross the river. It didn't seem very deep - thigh high. I can do this, I tell myself. Just go slow. Even slow doesn't cut it. Before I realize what hit me, I lose my footing and plunge into the river. Even with the temps in the 70's the water is shockingly cold. I try to regain my footing and fall again, and this time, the river starts to carry me downstream. Now I start to panic, all the horror stories coming to mind, all the reasons I shouldn't fish alone. The third time I lose my footing I fall forward, plunging chest first into the cold river. Now my Madison River baptism is complete. I am sitting neck deep in the river, water pouring into my waders, wet, head to toe, inside and out. Finally I stagger to my feet and lurch and stumble until I reach shallow water.Now what? After I get over being shocked and scared, I get mad. I'm soaked head to toe, it's only early afternoon and I haven't caught my big Brown yet. I slosh and stumble my way down the river until I can climb out and make my way to my car.I could change clothes and go back out, I thought. Only one problem: I had another shirt to change into, but no other pants. I was starting to get chilled, so I took a quick look around and seeing no one, whip off my shirt and pull a dry one out of the trunk of my car. Just then I look up and to my horror see a drift boat with three fishermen cruise right past me. I squeal with embarrassment and duck down, then quickly peer around the back end of the car. The fishermen had all politely averted their faces as they drifted by, pretending they hadn't just seen a woman disrobe right in front of them.I had to laugh. The good people of Ennis again! But I'm still soaked from the waist down. What to do? Give up on my big Brown waiting for me out in the river? No way! Hey! What about that resale store, Nearly New? Their sign said they closed at 4 pm and it's 10 till 4 right now. I whip out my cell phone and dig out the scrap of paper from my bag and dial the number. After two rings, someone answers and I hastily explain my situation.“No problem,” she says, “We'll hold the store open for you.”I drive back into town and soon I am dressed in clean, dry clothes again, thanks to the kind ladies at Nearly New. Since I’m already in town, I stop at the Reel Decoy for dinner. Another polite, blonde waitress (is everyone blonde here?) smiles and clucks her sympathy over my recent dunkings as she serves me dinner.I finally do end up back on the river, and fish until just before dark, but still no monster trout. It is getting dark. I am alone. The water is deep enough and fast enough that I’m concerned about what could happen if I fall in again. Just one more cast. Then I'll call it quits. I tie on a big stimulator and make a cast. The fly floats slowly into a side eddy. Nothing. Trying not to be bitterly disappointed, I start to strip my line, when suddenly, I feel a pull going the other way. Holy cow! Fish on! After only a few minutes I land my only fish of the day. Not the whopper I'd anticipated, this little seven-inch Brown still looks beautiful to me. I hunch over close to the dark flowing waters, admire the little guy for a few minutes, then release him to live another day.I came, I saw, I caught a fish. Does it really matter how big he was? I had a marvelous day on a magnificent river and got to meet some of the good people of Ennis.

[Frank Abissi]

I think you described a perfect day, So glad you posted it. took my mind off work for 5 minutes.

[Diane (Trosclair) Luebbers]

Steve,
I haven't fished much either, lately. These stories are from adventures I had my first year here! Last year I only went fishing 3 times! I told my hubby that this year will be different - I am going fishing at least once a week!
:0)
Diane

[Diane (Trosclair) Luebbers]

Hey Emil!
Did you know there is an old Montana law still on the books that declares it is illegal for a woman to fish alone? Guess that makes me an outlaw - surprise, surprise.....:0)
Diane

[Steve Burch]

Dianne, another great piece. I don't fish nearly as much as I like, even though there is excellent trout fishing in Northern California. But like all great excursions it's not just the fish you caught, but the journey and events along the way that help make the experience memorable.