Looking Back on Argentina – Fins and Feathers Bozeman
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Looking Back on Argentina

A year ago around this time I was living in Argentina studying lizards and spending every second and penny chasing trout. Not a lot has changed, other than the location being Montana now. I was scrolling through my Argentina photos and came across my fish journal. Inside I found this little sample about one of my favorite spots I fished in Argentina.

I’m lying on the warm sandy ground, collapsed and in love the Rio Rivadavia. Today is November 4st, opening week of fishing in Argentina. It’s nestled in the Los Alceres National Park hugging the boarder of Chile on the Argentinian side. It’s a pretty small river that runs flawlessly between Lago Rivadavia and Lage Verde. There’s not a lot if any access from the road, everything you have to hike too. This national park has one small windy unpaved road very similar to what I would imagine driving through the Tetons was like a 100 years ago– dry and rugged, but with a forrest so think and green like the North Cascades National Park.

The water! Jesus Christ, the most beautiful water you could imagine. Crystal clear, using huge streamers, fast quick tugs and watching the fish chase your fly in 3 feet of paradise. My tips broken, but I trimmed it and shoved it into the bigger piece with super glue. It’s working surprisingly well. My waders are beyond repair and I’m sun burned as hell. I’m still the happiest girl alive here and none of the misfortunes matter! I have no idea how many fish I’ve caught, but yesterday I only landed a handful. When I got back to the city where Pablo lives he said my last day was poor because, “my hand was tired from all the fish, it’s like giving a hand job for 10hrs a day”. He said this in English, and I’m not sure his translation was a 100%… Still very funny!

While on the river I didn’t run into one person or even stumble on human footprints. The sand seems to wipe everything clean due to the on and off again wind storms. There wasn’t any fishing line, lures or left over trash banking the shores. No empty beer cans, fire ring burns or toilet paper left from former visitors. Just me, the river and the occasional king fisher or rabbit.

I truly felt like I was in the wild every outdoors-man dreams of. I wonder if it is always like this, or that I just caught it on a really good week. I hope to find more wild rivers like this, or that we as fisherman can learn to clean up after ourselves.

I believe there are few places left in this world to truly escape like this.