Bozeman is not a river town. Yet, on the streets there are drift boats outside garages, and rafts rigged on trailers behind pickups. That is because within half an hour’s drive we have access to two of the great rivers of the west—the Yellowstone and the Missouri. And parts of the three tributaries that form the Missouri (the Gallatin, Madison, and Jefferson) are located within the Gallatin Valley.

Each day in summer there are caravans of vehicles pulling these watercraft to access the streams. In addition, hot days witness crowds arriving at the rivers, especially the Madison, to float on tubes or rafts for the cool fun of it. These folks have no intention of disturbing any fish.

In this part of the country, anywhere west of the 100th meridian, people are more aware of water—where it is available for recreation, and where it originates when they turn on their home taps. In Bozeman, many people know that most of our water comes from the Gallatin Range, from Sourdough Creek and Hyalite Creek, with storage in the mountain reservoirs at Hyalite and Mystic Lake. The rest of the city supply flows from Lyman Creek in the Bridgers. Those who don’t know these specifics are aware that our water comes from mountain snowmelt. It is always fun when visitors ask where the house drinking water is located. We are proud to tell them that right out of the faucet the water is pure and tastes wonderful.

There is a sign in the wooded area along the creek next to Tuckerman Park south of town which describes the journey of the water in Sourdough Creek, which flows out of the mountains. This stream merges into the East Gallatin, the Gallatin, the Missouri, the Mississippi and, ultimately, into the Gulf of Mexico. This creates a mental picture of the connectedness of land and river all along these routes. It also reminds me that Bozeman does have a river—the East Gallatin, subtle as it is. It is formed at the juncture of Rocky Creek and Bear Creek east of town. Bridger Creek and Bozeman Creek add their flows later on. The East Gallatin is subtle because it is difficult to float or fish due to limited access. One of the best places to view and enjoy it is near Story Mill Park.

We have other systems of braided, extensive creeks throughout the city and the valley. This system and the lush growth it provides is no doubt what first attracted settlers to the Gallatin Valley over 160 years ago. Those hardy pioneers stopped here and did the hard work of establishing our town rather than continuing on to the dubious fortunes of the gold fields over the western hills in Virginia City.

Two hundred twenty years ago, Lewis and Clark and their Corps of Discovery entered what is now Montana. They used the Missouri River as their corridor of exploration. They pulled boats upriver because, like most of us, they had a lot of stuff. Thankfully, among their stuff were notebooks that survived, so we know what they accomplished every day of their two-year plus expedition. They spent most of June, 1805 portaging around the Great Falls.

In August they reached Three Forks, then headed up the Jefferson and the Beaverhead rivers to the Continental Divide. They passed out of Montana at Lemhi Pass, and off the river system that Lewis had been traveling since embarking on the Ohio River two years previously. Their doomed quest for a quick water route across the entire country was abandoned when Lewis gazed at range after range of peaks from the summit of the pass, but their grand adventure continued. After exploring the Columbia River system that took them to the Pacific Ocean, they returned to Montana in 1806. William Clark and his party floated and explored the Yellowstone River that summer.

Our rivers are engines for irrigation, hydro-power, and even transportation. A generation after Lewis and Clark, steamboats began moving into the Upper Missouri and the Yellowstone. The head of navigation was established at Fort Benton in 1846. It became a thriving port that supplied the gold fields. A steamboat reached Billings on the Yellowstone River in the 1870s. In 1876, the steamboat Far West aided troops near the Bighorn River in the war with the Sioux and Cheyenne. But by the early 1880s, railroads penetrated Montana, and the river corridors used by the steamships fell into disuse. Modern voyages on our rivers are pretty much for fun.

All of these streams within our area are great resources for recreation, especially fishing. Fishing. There may be no one less qualified to write on this subject. In the sense that a bit of knowledge of a thing is dangerous, I will try keeping that in mind, aware that there are mysteries of the subject that I will never know. In other words, writing with humility, a trait that has fallen into general disuse lately

Almost all of my fishing is done with visiting family and friends. For many years we have had a family reunion along the Madison, camping and staying in cabins. Along with cookouts, games and campfire chats, fishing is a big part of the gathering. Three generations have participated. This year an 8th grader caught virtually all the fish for the group. I caught none. This was not luck; our nephew fished up to ten hours each day. His pluck, persistence and learning curve were fun to watch. He fished with bait and lures; near the end of the trip he was inquiring about tying his own flies. As we sat around the fire under the clear Big Sky and discussed what had happened on what trip over the last 25 years, his efforts and success added another story to the long list of family legends.

Though fishing has not been a priority for me, floating all of these rivers has been. More than a priority, it has been a passion. From innertubes to rafts, canoes and kayaks, we have proceeded down the local rivers for 50 years, from foot-deep tube floats on the Madison to the scary crashing whitewater of House Rock on the Gallatin, and every type of flow in between. For several years we worked on a project of floating the length of the Jefferson River in segments, from Twin Bridges to the Madison confluence. We never completed the whole river, becoming stuck on repeating favorite stretches rather than doing the not yet done portions. No matter, the river is still there and the boats are still ready in the garage. For another, earlier span of years, we dared the bigger whitewater runs of the Gallatin and the Yellowstone in our two-person inflatable kayaks. Sometimes we made the runs flawlessly, confident and competent. Other times we wiped out cluelessly on the first wave. After a number of seasons we quit the adrenaline spiking, rush inspiring runs, settling into comfortable retirement. But we can still tell the stories of Yankee Jim Canyon and the Mad Mile. The flat water continues to beckon, and we heed the call.

On these calmer floats or on riverside hikes, my chief pastime is spotting and identifying various waterbirds. On the recent family trip to the Upper Madison, I watched soaring bald eagles and hovering ospreys as they scanned the stream for fish. Also squadrons of pelicans and solo herons pursuing the same game, but with different skills. Ducks and Canada Geese were preoccupied with ducklings and goslings, ferrying them across currents and hiding them in rushes along the banks. The smaller shore birds flitted here and there, hopefully pursuing and consuming mosquitoes.

River memories are lasting, even vivid. More than forty years ago my parents and I floated the Madison on a sleepy weekday. They were visiting from Illinois and I wanted them to have that Bozeman experience. I left them on the river while I hitchhiked back to retrieve the van. If they had ever been in a boat alone together I didn’t know about it. When I returned, my Dad was sputtering about having to paddle around a horse that was standing in the middle of the river. My Mom could not stop laughing. The picture in my mind is still perfect.