Gulpers on the South Fork Arm of Hebgen Lake

July, 2021

I caught a few fish on the first day out from the float tube, but they were on a leech pattern under the surface, and I was searching for gulpers. They are the famous Hebgen trout that methodically eat emerging and spent callibaetis mayflies over a long stretch of the summer, making this lake one of the best in the west for dry fly fishing.

There wasn’t much action on top that first day, despite a healthy quantity of bugs on the water. I was able to feed a couple of fish a size 16 parachute callibaetis, but didn’t get a hook into either of them. The first one ate my fly just after I’d decided it had sat too long and the fish had moved on. Right when I set my rod down to reposition myself in the float tube, the bastard ate my fly. The second fish was a good one, showing his back with each rise, and I was so excited when my fly disappeared that I yanked it right out of his mouth.

The South Fork arm of Hebgen Lake — Lonesomehurst campground and the boat ramp north of my fins here.

It seemed like the hatch started around 9:30 and lasted until mid day, but the fish don’t eat consistently. There is a window of like, 20 minutes where there is a fish to cast to in every direction, but you have to be in the right spot, it isn’t widespread across the arm. I’d been anchoring the tube off the east side of the island across from the boat ramp, an area which seemed to have the most consistent feeders. (2021 was a historically low water year; the island is normally submerged).

The sandbar behind me emerged as the water level dropped and many fish cruised the shallow water on the north side. I must have just landed a good one!

One morning, I commented to a nearby angler in a boat that there seemed to be very few heads showing and he replied, of course, “This morning was awesome! I boated at least a dozen, all on the dry!” This was perhaps around 11:00, after I had a late start. Well damn. So the next morning I set my alarm for 5:30, determined to be on the water early to see if there was any truth to Mr. Dozen’s claim (there was not).

No bugs were on the water at 7:30, and no fish started rising until maybe 9:30. It was really sporadic, and I only had a few half-assed shots at rising fish. I was really frustrated trying to relearn how to cast from a belly boat, where your shoulder is at best a foot and a half above the water. Making a long presentation without your back-cast hitting the water is hard, and I had switched to my 4 weight… The previous week I’d been bombing pretty sweet loops long distance with my 5 weight off Cherry Creek, where I was standing in 2 feet of water. I blew many shots out of the tube with terrible casts.

The callibaetis mayflies hatch at Hebgen from late June through early September.

On a Saturday morning, I kicked off the shore at 9:30, and the hatch was underway, but few noses were showing. I tried to fish a section where there were splashy rises, but I felt like they were little fish, or perhaps whitefish… A guy had told me not to bother casting if you didn’t see a fin, which sometimes is good advice, but not always. Regardless, I didn’t connect with any of them.

I kicked over to my off-island spot and not much was happening. A rise here and there, out of range. Then a swirl appeared, into the breeze and a little far for my ability, but I made a cast… and saw a tailing loop entangle the fly. I stripped it in and there was in fact a wind knot in the tippet, two inches from the fly. Shit, that fish is still rising. I cut the fly off and retied. When I picked up the rod to make another cast, the 40 or so feet of line that was floating in front of me had somehow wrapped itself around the rod, the leader, and the copious weeds I was sitting in. It was a mess and it made me unreasonably angry (and it was the second bad tangle of the morning). As I was untangling it, fish started gulping all around me. Like, this was the peak, all of the fish within range, all of them decided to eat right now when I was completely incapacitated!

I cursed a bit, OK, a lot. I made some bad karma. A couple on the beach was staring at me. As soon as I got everything untangled and free of weeds, the fish stopped rising. Like, STOPPED. Hard stop. I kicked my fins and slowly pivoted around 360 degrees…. Nothing. Karma, see.

My winning fly used a goose biot body with speckled guinea for wing and tail with a sparse grizzly hackle through the thorax.

I’d been out there for a couple of hours and had to take a leak. I kicked over to the island, stood up and wrestled my waders down. As I was relieving myself and gazing across the water, frustrated, unhappy, defeated… I saw a nose, followed by a dorsal fin, then a tail. Then I saw another one… really substantial looking fish. Not gulpers, not eagerly slurping bugs, but hunters that were cruising. About 50 feet away.

I put my gear back on and shuffled in that direction, fins sticking in mud and weeds. Too far to cast well, even from standing. It was into the breeze, and I’ve got a 14 foot long leader to turn over. I sat down in the tube and kicked over that way. I made a few decent casts that were close to rises, but didn’t get an eat. Then I saw that big dorsal fin again, and landed the fly pretty close ahead of it. He ate a bug a couple of feet away. Then he ate one a foot away. And then he ate mine. This time, I got the hook set properly, and the fish rolled hard sideways, giving me a great look at its size. It was a damn good fish! Woooo! I had it tight for a few seconds, then pop! The knot failed at the fly and it was off. Awwwwwww!

This may have been that same brown, landed a few days later in the same spot.

Well shit, that was just fine. All the feelings of defeat washed off. That was what I wanted, to pick out a fish, target it and get it to eat the fly I tied yesterday. It would have been extra to get it to the net and get a photo, but really the eat is what I’m here for.

The breeze was favorable and pushing me back towards camp. There were small groups of fish rising on the way. At one point I made a bad cast that landed in a splash right next to a fish, and the fly was sunk, I could not see it. I stripped the line in to try again and the darn fish ate my fly as I was stripping it back. It was a pretty good brown, and I took a few pics without taking it out of the water. I watched it swim away and felt satisfied.

Though I had several decent shots as I drifted back towards camp, no more hookups occurred and after a while I stopped seeing rises altogether. So I leisurely kicked back to base and had a beer, then a nap. A fine day after all.

The Lonesomehurst campground is a great base for fishing the South Fork Arm. With the right site number, you can launch from your back yard. There are many dispersed camping locations farther up the road around the lake, and there is one very special spot that I swore silence to some locals that shared it with me.

A water craft is massively helpful, although there are some spots were the fish cruise the banks and I did catch some on foot. In a more northern part of the lake near Cherry Creek campground, there is a large wadable flat that had fish on it when I was there in mid-July.

The last two seasons I have had to work in July and August and missed out on the best part of gulper season. Hopefully I can make it in 2024, and I’d try and be there in a window between July 15 and the end of August. In the season that was 2021, I left Hebgen to go fish the Big Horn below Yellowtail Dam around August 20, and I had another spectacular week of dry fly fishing.

I love Montana!