Expectations have a way of framing our experiences.

My first real fly fishing instruction was on the Smith River in 1995. My uncle had a friend with a small waterfront parcel nestled in a canyon. The only structures were tool sheds that different families used to store summer essentials — lawn chairs, grills, camping gear — through snowy winters. I still remember my uncle’s voice ticking out “10 and 2”, “10 and 2”, as well as a light introduction to the double haul. You can see my perfect 8 o’clock form in the picture below.

In November of last year, my best friend from high school—whom I don’t get to see as often as I would like—called me and asked if the Smith River was a great place for a fly fishing trip. I told him it was a bucket list destination. Then he asked if I wanted to fill the final spot in an eight-person trip scheduled for mid-May and organized through Montana Angler. I immediately said yes, followed quickly by, “but I better check with my wife.”

Floating the Smith Rivers covers roughly 60 miles, winding through tight canyons, meadows, and farmland. It starts two hours north of Bozeman and ends in Great Falls, where the Smith joins the Missouri. The drive back traces the Missouri River through famous fly-fishing towns like Craig. Since the Smith is a freestone river, its flows are susceptible to spring runoff and rain, both of which were factors during our trip. Our last day coincided with the highest CFS (cubic feet per second) of 2025. Needless to say, the water was high—”chocolate milk,” as our guides liked to say. Our trip was May 11th through the 15th, and as you can see in the image below, it coincided with literal “peak runoff.”

You might think high water and rainy weather would derail a fishing trip. And I was worried. I had imagined nonstop action—catching the fish I missed in ’95. I also worried about being away from my wife and toddler, and about camping for five days with thirteen strangers. But all those expectations got flipped on their heads.

The Fishing

With peak runoff in full force, it wasn’t quite the Montana experience I had envisioned. All fishing was nymphing tight to the banks with two-fly rigs: almost exclusively a stonefly and a squirmy worm. It worked—everyone landed fish daily—and I personally brought around 30+ to the net over the 5 days. But nymphing the same way day after day felt repetitive by day five and it certainly wasn’t the dry-dropper heaven I was preparing for in the months leading up to the trip.

That said, I learned a lot about high-water strategy and reading the river: inside corners, slow seams, and pockets a foot off the bank. On Day 3, I fished a spot near camp after the guides had gone parked our boats and pointed out a few good runs. I swapped in a flashy Krillex fly that Bill Hager gave me years ago. I’d used it a hundred times in New England and caught nothing. But two casts in, I hooked a 20+ inch brown in a run others had been fishing steadily for a half hour. I had witnesses, thankfully, because the fish wriggled out of the net before I could snap a photo.

I wouldn’t discourage anyone from fishing the Smith. It’s an incredible fishery with fat, healthy browns and rainbows. At certain times of year, big fish from the Missouri run up the Smith to spawn or feed. The key is timing—and we just so happened to hit peak runoff. And if this sounds negative, don’t interpet it that way. I had a blast; it just wasn’t the fishing I was expecting.

The Scenery and Camping

The Smith’s scenery is spectacular: steep canyon walls, broad meadows, and ancient pictographs. I learned the river valley was once part of the Pacific Ocean and is geologically quite young. You can even find sea fossils in the rock walls. The Smith is also home to ancient pictographs, including handprints and symbolic images, left by Indigenous peoples over a thousand years ago. 

On Day 2, I spotted the site where my uncle took me in ’95. It had changed—tool sheds replaced by two log homes—but I recognized the canyon wall where I missed a nice fish as a kid.

One highlight of the trip was an hour hike up to the top of a section of canyon that our group estimated to be somewhere between 400 and 2000 feet above the river. This led to a lot of laughter later at camp, and in truth, our guides let us know it was about 1200 feet (solid average estimate from all samples in our group).

Old Friends and New

One of my worries was spending five days in close quarters with strangers—six new friends, four guides, and three camp crew. With no cell service, there’s no escape. But this ended up being one of the best parts of the trip. Everyone brought something different to the table—variation in fly fishing experience, diverse professional backgrounds, and great stories.

We rotated guides and fishing partners daily. Mornings started with breakfast and strong coffee. Lunch was packed for us and eaten at scenic stops. Dinners featured appetizers, entrees, desserts, and a healthy supply of spirits. We had time and space to talk, laugh, and connect. I’d happily hang out with this group again.

I can’t say enough good things about Montana Angler. The guides and camp crew were phenomenal. They packed and hauled everything for a five-day float—tents, tables, coolers, stoves—and still managed to cook extravagant meals and keep camp spirits high. Our guides were fantastic (Matt, Charlie, Mike, and Tom): deeply knowledgeable, laid-back, and great company. One had floated the Smith 70 times and could tell you everything about geology, fish behavior, and many rivers in throughout Montana. And our camp crew handled everything related to getting our gear between camp sites, setting up individual tents and common areas, along with some of the best meals I have had on vacation. Our camp chef Justin went out of his way to accommodate all of my food allergies. One of the best parts of the trip was watching Justin float past us with a drift boat packed to the gills with tables, chairs and tents, and himself rowing in the middle. 

One of the trip’s unexpected impacts was being fully disconnected. No phones. No distractions. Everyone was present. Conversations were richer, and connections felt deeper. I am finding that I browse the internet in very different ways since returning. 

The only downside? It was hard being away from my wife and toddler for five days with no way to check in. But I have to acknowledge that the difficulties in connecting made the reconnection that much sweeter.

Final Thought

Expectations shape everything. I went in thinking this would be a trip about redemption fishing. It turned out to be about something entirely different: connection, learning, laughter, and letting go.

The Smith didn’t give me what I expected—it gave me what I needed.