Anglers lined up at Fishing Bridge, 1962. A popular pastime on
the bridge from 1902 until fishing was prohibited in 1973.
I came across this image online of Yellowstone Park’s, famous “Fishing Bridge.” This picture was taken 2 years before my memory, and thus was not taken by anyone I know. However it reminded me of a childhood memory I thought I would share. My family were homesteaders back in the late 1800’s in Montana, and Yellowstone park was a place they spent many a summer exploring. My grandparents are even on record as discovering some hot springs, mud pots and small geysers tourists the world over love to visit today.
My grandfather was a carpenter by trade, and he helped refurbish and expand Old Faithful Inn back in the 1919 and again in 1927. As a carpenter he had to be gone from home for up to a Month at a time as he traveled to wherever he could get work. He was born in 1895 and passed away in 1986. As you travel around Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, you will come across many historical structures that still exist that men like my grandfather helped build.
I’m the youngest of 8 children, and more time than not I was always getting someone mad at me. My mother was one of five girls Grandpa had. He had no sons, so my Mom and her sisters were all country girl tom boys who could rough it with the best of men. My grandparents lived in Gallatin Gateway Montana, but I was raised in Duluth Minnesota. However, we would travel to Montana in the Summer at times to visit the Grandparents. The Summer that stands out the most in my memory was the Summer of 1964. Like every visit, we all went to Yellowstone Park.
As awesome as the many sites were, the place that stands out the most in my memory was the famous Fishing Bridge. Now this was almost 10 years before they made it illegal to fish off that bridge, and I’m sure I probably contributed to the many reason they decided they would no loner allow people to fish off that bridge. The Fishing Bridge goes over a portion of the Yellowstone River as it enters Yellowstone Lake. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Like in the picture above, there was a lot of people fishing off the bridge that day. Poor Grandpa, if he knew what was going to happen, he never would have taken us fishing there, or at least he never would have put a fishing rod in my hand, because little did he know the trouble I would cause.
The trouble happened shortly after he baited my hook with a worm. I remember how eager I was to cast that line over the railing. With my rod in hand I nudged myself in between a couple of people and I got right to the railing. I looked out at the river and beyond as it meandered into the lake and flung my line with pride. I’ll tell you it was elbow to elbow people, but the way I cast that line it was if I was the only one out there. Next thing I know I felt a tug on my line. I start yelling, “I got one, I got one. Grandpa, I got one.”
Next thing I know people are yelling, cussing, and looking at me with such anger I thought I was going to be killed. I then felt a hand reaching around me from the crowd, snatching my pole right out of my hands. I yell out, “Hey, give it back that’s my fish.” Then I heard a familiar voice that was not real happy. I look up and Grandpa had this mean scowl on his face that made me feel like I wanted to slink away and just become invisible.
Grandpa was apologizing as people were yelling, and then someone grabbed me by my shirt collar and pulled me away from the angry crowd. I looked and it was my Mom, and all I heard was, “Clarence, what did you do?” Now I know everyone knows me as Chuck today, but my birth name is Clarence, because I was named after my Grandfather Clarence Carpenter. On that day I’m convinced he was no longer proud that I was named after him. It wasn’t until many years later I started going by Chuck. Well, that is another story I may share one day. Anyway, it seems that in my eagerness to cast my line for a fish, my cast went kind of sideways over the lines of about 15 or 20 other lines. OH, the fish I thought I caught? Well it was actually the tension created by all those lines I got tangles up in.
I’m guessing that if you went diving under that bridge today, you will probably find mine, and everyone else’s lines all in a tangled mess down there, because the only thang Grandpa could do was have everyone cut their lines. I don’t remember much more about that Montana trip, other than the way I was accused of ruining everyone else’s fun. As i stated in the beginning, I am the youngest of 8 children, it seems like I was always ruining someones day.
Years later in 1979 when I was moving my family to California for a job, we stopped in Montana on our way so my children could meet their great-grandparents. While spending a week with them me and Grandpa went into the Gallatin River that flows right behind his property that is on the shoreline of the Gallatin Gateway. As we walked into the water, the first thing Grandpa said to me was, “stay over there, and don’t cast my way.” I looked at him and he had this big grin on his face as he added, “You thought I forgot, didn’t you?” It made my heart feel good that while I ruined his day many years ago, he now looked back at that time with fondness.
OH, the stories I could tell that he shared with me in his late years. Like the time when he and some friends redirected the flow of 4 corners hot spring when he was 14. He got in big trouble with the people who owned the hot springs shack. I guess he was always getting into trouble as a youngster when he was youngster also.
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