The Right Place
A climbing-and-fishing tour at Carter’s Bridge.
It’s mid-October and the first dusting of snow has hit the high peaks. Yellow leaves cling precariously to cottonwood trees before being whisked away by the first real winter storm. The air is cool, but not yet cold, and we’re itching for one more summer-sports outing before digging our skis out of storage. Multiple sports, that is.
The “multisport” is a staple of O/B staff excursions, and it’s popular among all walks of Bozemanites. There are obvious pairings like biking and floating, and more contrived couplings such as running and skiing. Then there are completely outlandish, disharmonious unions that share no gear nor apparel with one another whatsoever, requiring two completely different and quite intricate sets of equipment (let alone, skills) to partake in. To wit: climbing and fishing.
A short walk from Carter’s deposits us beneath a 100-foot limestone cliff. I find a spot with a quality 5.7 right next to a striking 5.10+.
Our climb-and-fish combination—cast & crimp? pull & pole? reelin’ & ropin’?—was conceived as a means of showcasing opportunities for non-fishing activities in close proximity to state-managed Fishing Access Sites (FASs). As the name suggests, fishing access is the primary function of an FAS, but some sites are right nearby other notable recreation sites. One such FAS is Carter’s Bridge on the Yellowstone River, which serves as the primary parking area for the Allenspur crags.
A short walk from Carter’s deposits us beneath a 100-foot limestone cliff. I find a spot with a quality 5.7 right next to a striking 5.10+. Perfect, we can stay right here the whole time. I’m ready to put up a toprope on the 5.10, and I instruct Adam to do the same on the 5.7—he’s the only other climber today who’s ever climbed outside before. It’s been a few years, but he’ll do fine.
Adam and I teach Eli and Peter how to lead-belay on the spot. Adam looks a little uncertain, but he’s reassured by Eli’s large stature serving as a ground anchor.
Once the ropes are set, I’m itching to snap some photos. I zip up the 5.7 and affix myself at the top anchor. Peter has a go on the 5.10, followed by Adam; Eli climbs the 5.7 directly below me. I mash the shutter, moving up and down a short strand of fixed rope to get all the right angles. As I lower down, Jamie is starting up the 5.10. I post up right above the overhang and encourage her to pull hard.
Once deep and powerful, the mighty Yellowstone in late fall is reduced to a level such that one can comfortably wade right out to the middle.
We pack a lot of climbing into just a couple hours, thanks to the short approach and close proximity of the routes to one another. So by the time we’re cleaning up, everyone is ready to wet a line. Well, maybe some of us are more eager than others—but I’ve had my fun on the rocks, and now I’m here for moral (and photo) support.
We waltz down to the banks of the Yellowstone right at its exit point from pristine Paradise Valley. We can see clear up the entire valley, which is crowned at the far end by towering, snow-capped Emigrant Peak. A broad swath of brass-colored leaves frames the banks. The image screams “fall in Montana,” and Adam walks upstream into the perfect spot for a telephoto shot. Meanwhile, Eli is downstream with Jamie on camera. Nobody knows where Peter’s gone, but we’re not worried. We’d be hard-pressed to worry about anything right now.
As the sun sinks behind the western shoulder of the Wineglass, golden beams of light shine across the river. Once deep and powerful, the mighty Yellowstone in late fall is reduced to a level such that one can comfortably wade right out to the middle. It looks cold up in the mountains; soon it will be cold down here, too. I don’t think anybody catches any fish. But we’re hanging out on the water, one last time this year. We’re in just the right place.
