I spent a beautiful spring week on Montana’s Bighorn River, one of those western gems that gets fished aggressively come summer. And, on a glorious April day when the mercury tickled 80 degrees, the river saw its share of anglers. The good news? The ‘Horn is one of those rivers that just keeps on delivering big fish, no matter how many boats and how many anglers find their way to its chilled waters below Yellowtail Dam.
The fishing was stellar, and our digs for the week were cozy and luxurious—and riverfront. But, on just about any fishing trip, there arises the need to “run into town.” Depending on where you are, “town” could be 15 minutes away, or it could be an hour or more. And, on trophy Western trout rivers, of which there are plenty, “town” could be as big as Denver or as tiny as unassuming Hardin, Montana.
Some of those fishing towns pulse with the vibe of the rivers that run through them, and with the generally amenable demeanor of the anglers they serve. Anybody who’s ever fished the Missouri River knows exactly what to expect in Craig, Montana, affectionately dubbed, “Trout Town, USA” by the scores of anglers who navigate — and, dare I say, embrace — the chaos that comes with any community nestled up against the banks of one of the best tailwaters in the world. Craig is definitely a fishing town. You can apply that label to dozens of communities throughout the West, from Taos in the south to Missoula up north and to other far-flung locales, like Bend and West Yellowstone, or Livingston or Dutch John.
But there are some legit trout towns that just kind of get overlooked — forgotten amid the glory grabbers and the river culture, where deep conversations usually start and end at the fly shop, only to be rekindled at one of the many famous diners or bars that cater to long-rodders eager to swap stories. Think Izaak’s in Craig, or Pond’s Lodge in Island Park. Or the Murray in Livingston. But it begs the question, with so much quality trout water peppered throughout the West, what are the great trout towns that don’t often move the needle? What fantastic dive bars never get their due?
Hardin, Montana
This prairie hamlet about 45 minutes east of Billings probably wouldn’t register as a trout town at all without the Yellowtail Dam that chills the Bighorn River’s water to about 38 degrees before it squirts out from the bottom of the impoundment and flows virtually due north until meets the Yellowstone. And on a river lined with lodges and plenty of chances to be social without leaving “the compound,” Hardin is often overlooked. But that’s our fault, not Hardin’s.
No, this little town on the northern fringes of the Crow Indian Reservation isn’t your typical fishing town. There aren’t as many bars as there are fly shops, and its location among Crow Nation might bely that Hardin has trout running through its veins. Nearby Fort Smith, which is really just a wide spot in the road below Yellowtail Afterbay, gets all the trouty attention because it’s the uppermost put-in on the river. But it’s more of a pregame destination. If you’re an angler who wants to get the most out of a fishing experience — you know, one that exceeds the fishing alone — you’ll appreciate Hardin when you pull into downtown and belly up to the 4 Aces Bar. You’ll be surprised by the respectable on-tap offerings, and the predictably “just fine” fried bar fare. But, as with any respectable bar in any respectable trout town in the West, it’s the people you meet that make a difference.
And, at the 4 Aces, you’re going to meet some people — the bar’s owner is an unapologetic Denver Broncos fan (it’s a 7-hour drive to the Mile High City from this subtle little ag town that also happens to have one of the fishiest rivers in the West flowing nearby), and if you don’t think John Elway or Peyton Manning would be excellent candidates for president … well, you just keep that to yourself. Here at the 4 Aces — and, honestly, wherever you go in little Hardin — you’ll be immediately identified as “not from around here,” and, like moths to a flame, the locals will seek you out and want to know everything about you.
On our last day of fishing the ‘Horn, our guide escorted us into the bar, said hello to the bartender — the two dated briefly back in high school and are still friends today — and then proceeded to walk us through the history of this edge-of-the-reservation town by nodding and pointing at various bar patrons. “She’s on the tribal council,” he said, nodding to gal at the end of the bar nursing a Michelob Ultra. “He’s got a ranch just outside of town. Great guy,” he said, with a quick waive to a gentleman and his wife enjoying the Aces’ happy hour wings. It went on like that for a few hours, until we dragged ourselves in the chilly April night and made our way back to the lodge on the river just a few minutes from town.
But how do you really tell when a town can be dubbed a “trout town?” My fishing buddy for the week posted a photo of the little bar’s surprisingly diverse offerings of beers on tap on social media. The photo featured a fairly representative shot of the bar’s background. Seconds later, his phone lit up with a new message. Upon opening it, a friend of ours and a Montana angler from the other side of the state simply asked, “You in Hardin?”
Gunnison, Colorado
Full disclosure: Gunnison is home to what is now Western Colorado University, and it’s my alma mater. When I graduated back in the early 90s, it was simply known as Western State (or Wasted State, given the sparsity of things to do on notoriously frigid Gunnison evenings from about Thanksgiving through the end of March), and it is, indeed, a trout town.
The beginnings of the storied Gunnison River start just 10 miles upstream of town at the little junction village of Almont, where the East and the Taylor rivers come together to form one of the best trout rivers in America. And, despite challenging public access, the river fishes really well as it flows from the wedding of its two sources all the way downstream to where it dumps into Blue Mesa Reservoir.
But the Gunnison is only part of this trout town’s offerings. You have to include the Taylor, for sure, as a river worth a look (the section right below Taylor Dam is legendary for massive browns and rainbows), as are portions of the East. But little Tomichi Creek, which runs off the shoulders of Monarch Pass to the east, if you can BS your way into some access, might be the best place in the state to dependably latch into wild trophy browns on the regular. A bit farther flung from town puts you on untold public acreage, both BLM and U.S. Forest Service. The ideal day trip would be to drive up the Taylor past all the private lodges and dude ranches into Taylor Park and then just pick a blue line on the map to follow into the backcountry.
Back in town, have dinner at the W Cafe (named for the giant W on Tenderfoot Mountain that overlooks the city — the largest collegiate symbol in America) and order the chicken fried steak. After dinner, wander over to the Alamo — back in my day, it was the Oasis — for a cocktail or a cold beer, or head down Main to Tomichi Avenue and hit The Dive. On any summer trout-worthy day, you’ll see your share of anglers, but you’ll also bump into college professors, real, live cowboys and the average Gunnison local, who probably rode his or bike to the bar and, at one time or another, has contemplated leaving for bigger, brighter lights, but just can’t do it (a lot like those of us who did leave wish we never had).
Dillon, Montana
Dillion is Montana’s answer to Gunnison (or perhaps it’s the other way around). And unabashed ranching and farming town on the Beaverhead River and within reasonable shouting distance of the Big Hole, the Ruby and the incredible backcountry trout water on seemingly endless public lands around town, Dillon, like Gunnison is home to a small liberal arts university (Montana Western) and a lively downtown bar scene. In late summer, when the students are back in town and Hopper Season on the Beaverhead is going strong, you can follow the crowds out of one alley entrance from one bar and into the alley entrance of another — it’s a connected maze for drinkers and partiers.
The Moose, right on Montana Street is a great place to start, followed by an alley walk to The Office. From there, you have to wander across the tracks to the Metlen and drink on the main floor of a once-grand railroad hotel. If you do it right, you’ll hit a few bars and get your steps in. Don’t overdo it — the fishing around Dillon is epic, and you can catch anything from fat Beaverhead browns to lacy Ruby River grayling. Thrown in some really nice Yellowstone cutthroats from the nearby backcountry creeks and a visit to Dillon will leave you wanting more.
Pinedale, Wyoming
You might get the old Cowboy State side-eye by claiming Pinedale is a legit trout town, but you can handle it. Because you’re right. Not only are you within a stone’s throw of the headwaters of the Green River, you can see the towering Wind River range to the east and the slopes of the Wyoming Range to the west — both are home to some of Wyoming’s best public-lands fisheries, where wild rainbows, brook trout, brown trout and native cutthroats can be found. In the Winds, if you hike far enough and high enough, you can get into naturalized golden trout, Arctic grayling and some of the prettiest country you’ll ever fish. To the south? You have the Hoback and its host of tribs that are totally worth a look — in addition to being home to some truly big Snake River fine-spotted cutties, the Hoback is home to some of the biggest and most aggressive whitefish I’ve ever caught. They’re just massive,
If you head south of town, you’ll come to Fontenelle Reservoir on the Green, which fishes really well both above and below the lake. To the west, through the little town of La Barge, anglers can follow La Barge Creek to the top of Tri-Basin Divide, where, within a mile of the summit, anglers can tangle with three distinct subspecies of cutthroat trout — Snake River fine-spotted cutts in the Greys River, Colorado River cutts in La Barge and Bonneville cutts in the Smith Fork.
Back in town, know that Pinedale is something of a cosmopolitan wonder for the West’s dominant industries. It’s definitely a cow town, but it’s also an oil and gas town — years ago, a giant oil company built a hotel on the outskirts of town to house roughnecks working in the area. It’s now a private hotel, but it can thank its origins to fracking for natural gas in the area. But it is a trout town — if you’re fishing the Green or visiting a local lodge and tackling the mostly private New River or Boulder Creek and looking for giant browns, you’ll find yourself at the Corral or the Cowboy Bar. If you’re a craft beer fan, you’ll definitely want to step into the Wind River Brewing Co. A traditional trout town dinner? Stockman’s, of course.
Certainly, there are more under-the-radar trout towns in the West to be sure. Wherever there are trout, there’s a town that has just enough to do to entertain anglers after the sun sets and before it rises over the mountains again. I could probably add another dozen to this short list, but half the fun in finding great wild trout fishing in the West is finding the trout towns that accompany them. Generally speaking, point the hood ornament to a notable trout river. There, you’ll likely find a nearby town where you might be able to hang your hat for the night and find a solid meal and decent selection of on-tap beers.
Once you’re there, enjoy. You’re in a trout town.
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