We arrived in Dillon, Montana, on Saturday, September 8 after a great and picturesque drive down Highway 93 from Missoula.  Dillon is a sleepy little cowboy town that is home to Montana Western University and the mighty Beaverhead River.  We have spent a fair amount of time in Dillon over the years, fishing for large brown and rainbow trout in “the Beav” and drinking  fabulous hoppy beers at Beaverhead Brewing Company. The people of Dillon are tremendously friendly and the town just seems to welcome you with a cool, hip vibe (and it even has a Patagonia outlet downtown).  We parked the rig in a free Bureau of Reclamation campground on the shores of Clark Canyon Reservoir, the waterbody that feeds the Beav.  We enjoyed a couple quiet and peaceful nights here, with the exception of the swarms of bugs that arrrived around dusk.  We were fooled on the first night by not putting up our bug screen on the van door quickly enough, and we paid the price of having about 300 light-seeking bugs as we entered the rig for night-night…yikes.  Note to selves…always assume there will be bugs, although we have been pretty bug-free on our journey up until this point, so one could say we were spoiled.  The good news is that the bugs were at least the non-biting variety.  I think John “Bug” Halnon would call them “giant midges”.  Anyway, we did much better the second night by putting up our screen stat, and by strategically placing our Goal Zero light sources away from the van.  We are not very bright people, but we took extreme pleasure in outsmarting these pesky little critters on night number two.  The fishing on the Beav was less than average.  For some reason, the Bureau was letting a ton of water out of the dam, and even crossing the river at High Bridge was not an option.  I managed to dredge a couple nice browns out from below High Bridge, saving face on one of my “home rivers”, even though we are technically homeless these days.  Actually, that works out quite well, doesn’t it?  Every river is now one of my home rivers.  We enjoyed a few hoppy pale ales at the BBC on one evening but didn’t seem to get the usual hallucinogenic effect that we normally would from their beers.  Their beers have a tendency to be on the strong side, so be careful if you ever pay them a visit.  We watched our beloved Patriots win their home-opener on Sunday at a great little cafe called “Sparky’s Garage”.  Great boneless buffalo wings, plenty of beers on tap, and a “W” for our team.  It didn’t look pretty (like Tom), but it worked.  That said, the giant midges won this battle, and we hauled ass out of town in search of better fishing, mountain biking, and beer.  Dillon, we will see you later, for sure.