Meanwhile… Back at the Windrush River… The angling competition continued to reel between Sally and Ellie. By shortening her line below the indicator Ellie was now able to keep Sally’s streamer at bay with her nymph.

Cast for cast… Fish for fish… The cameras continued to roll as the two women battled it out and a rather large viewing audience formed along the shoreline.

“C’mon Sally… Kick her ass!” shouted a puffy looking blueberry sort of fellow hidden amidst her entourage.

“You got this Ellie… Show her where the bear shits!” echoed a stringy haired dude crouched within a cluster of Gold Rope guides.

Without warning a breeze from the north found its way down the Windrush River and lit up Yello Dawg Pass.  Oglers lost fishing caps, the current in the river gained another 3mph, and the back-to-back-to-back-to-back non-stop fishing action ended with a slam on the brakes.

A stare down was now taking place betwixt Sally and Ellie. It was time to Sink or Swim!

Cinching her Costa visor down a notch, Ellie set the tone and took a stride forward, deeper into the river. Sally matched her move by tightening the chinstrap on her Helly southwester’ and advanced to intense water as well.

When the wind blows, and the barometer rises… Two things happen in the angling world. The bite slows down and the fish tend to go deeper.

Sally and Ellie straight away had forty-paces between them as they approached mid-river. They were equally chest deep in water, teetering on moss laden boulders, and being hurried by impossible currents. Neither woman blinked nor slowed their stride to reach the center of the river.

As the final bout was about to begin… The two anglers saluted each other and then turned toward their respective bank of cheering onlookers, raising their fly fishing rods high to the fish gods, and then dropping their chins along with their tips to the surface of the water.

Masking up… Ellie pulled a Simms Sungaiter over her face and Sally followed suit by covering her face with a Starflake Seafoam Sun Scarf.

Taking the en garde position… Each of the women rotated and faced directly downstream. Approximately 100-yards to the south, loaded with jagged rock and boiling whitewater, was the legendary “No Fuckin’ Way” rapids.

What does every local angler know about “No Fuckin’ Way”? For starters… It is neither fishable by boat nor by wading. Too much water… Too much depth… Too much danger.

Secondly, this location was recently reported as the site and home of Montana’s would be state record rainbow trout. Allegedly, (yes allegedly) Jackie Loonsuckle recently shot this set of rapids (rarely attempted) and witnessed the tailing fish tucked behind a mammoth boulder.

All this apparently happened under normal flow conditions at a speed of 12mph. Presently, with the gusting winds and rising water levels, the currents now gushed at a less than moderate 17mph.

With an authoritative voice… Jackie Loonsuckle cupped his hands to the sides of his mouth and barked toward Sally and Ellie: “Pret? Alez!!!”

This is the French version of “READY? GO!!!” And with his command the two crazing, dueling, fly fishing fanatics raised their boots from the floor of the river… Tucked their knees to their chests… And free fell with the current toward “No Fuckin’ Way”.

At 17mph the massive boulder that purportedly held Montana’s would be record rainbow trout immediately came into view. It sat dead center of the river and split the current, engulfing the water flow, turning it to a fateful-death-gripping whitewater rapids, and eventually backwaters with fuming eddies.

Twenty yards from a fatal rock collision… Sally elbowed Ellie in the shoulder, attempting to gain separation, and clear the rock on the west portion of the river. Ellie returned the favor with a flip kick that caught Sally midsection, pushing her to the east and hopefully further from harm’s way.

Simultaneously, the deafening roar of the water disappeared, as the two anglers were towed below by the undercurrent of the rapids. The only visible remains were two rod tips, bent in the direction of the gigantic rock, and both were now considerably downstream from their previous location.

Sally was the first to surface… Spitting streams of water and swinging wide with the currents carrying her to the western portion of the eddies.

Ellie was a split second behind… Popping to the surface, hacking and gasping for air. The power of the river was moving her to the eastern section of the eddies.

Now facing each other… It was ever apparent that both women were hooked up!

The other distinguishable element… They were HOOKED UP on the SAME FISH!

It was a stalemate. Neither angler was willing to give line with both continuing to reel and neither was closing their distance on the fish.

And then they saw it… The light olive dorsal fin, with dark polka dots, broke the surface of the water. Its back was greenish blue with sides streaking from prominent red to silvery white.

As if on cue the great trout launched midstream, gained verticality, and tail danced straight down the river away from its would-be captors. Both fly lines sang in distress with rod tips yielding. Clearly, this WAS the new thirty-plus-pound Monfuckingtana state record rainbow, dragging both Sally and Ellie downstream.

     “Drop your rod!” Sally screamed atop the roar of the rapids. “Let me take the line!”

     “You can kiss my…” and Ellie’s words vanished… As did the trophy fish, the tight lines, and the possibility of landing a newsworthy world-class-trout. With one rock-solid head jerk, hooks were broken loose from tippet lines, and piscatorial dreams vanished.

     “I told you to concede and drop your line!” Sally challenged.

     “And I told you, you can kiss my ass!” Ellie retorted.

With Archer Sting and the film crew streaking down the shoreline… Film continued to roll as the two participants of the fencing bout met midstream and dropped their (swords) fly rods. Then… At the same time… They reached out and locked hands like two primal Greco-Roman wrestlers in an early century Olympic bout.

Sally attempted a throw by stepping in for a body lock… Hoping to lower herself enough to perform an inside trip and pile drive Ellie to oblivion.

Ellie countered her move by shooting first… Eager to sweep a leg and use her weight to pound Sally to the bottom of the river.

Each aggressor’s attempt was a colossal failure as the swift current, combined with deep water and slippery rocks, nullified their ability to use force. The deadlock ended when each fire breathing bear charged their opponent and grasped each other in a breath expunging hug.

Again… Splashing… Free flowing… Boots up… Down the river Sink or Swim they went! 

–            To Be Continued –