Distinctly Montana Magazine

“Well, it was really just an ac- cident,” Bud Lilly observed, the brim of his Trout U cap seeming to pinch the sun tight against the dark cast of the old wooden water tower. “It was a job I was doing for Fish, Wildlife and Parks (FWP). I was scouting for a new fishing access just the other side of that highway bridge downstream,” he said, gesturing with his chin, “and when the ranch owner said “no way,” I wandered over here and had what some might call an inspiration. You know,” he added, “there’s no other access to the Gallatin for several miles and, I realized, no access at all for the disabled and, in particular, disabled vets. That was a real shame I real- ized, and that was when I called Tim.” There are only a very few people you might know who are big enough to carry both sides of an attitude as com- fortably as Tim Crawford. Tim is both gruff and consider- ate, opinionated yet reflective, mild-mannered, but intoler- ant of fools or incompetents. He is no-nonsense, sizes up people quickly, and you don’t often get a second chance. He has a few bucks. Within days, Bud Lilly, aka “world-renowned fly fish- erman” and Tim Crawford, a Bozeman-area business- man and rancher, stood cap-to-cap on a small rise of the Gallatin River in Logan, Montana, both now focused on the landscape’s potential. The problem was more than FWP’s “no river access,” Bud explained. “There is re- ally no planned access anywhere for handicapped.” And that meant that there was no access for disabled vets, in particular, in one of the greatest fly-fishing regions in the world. Yet here on the banks of the Gallatin River was a nice piece of land, 2,000 feet of river frontage and a vision of a fishing and picnic park. It seemed the perfect place. “We’ll buy it,” said Crawford. The “buy” was an old subdivision that fronted a gnarly and decrepit boarding house on the banks of the river. There was a single acre of 18 home lots, subdivided in 1895, which were not likely to be built on in anyone’s lifetime. It would give both Lilly and Crawford a chance to take a small idea and turn it into a big dream for legions of wounded veterans. As Thoreau once said, ““Many men go fish- ing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” Bud Lilly and Tim Crawford knew what they were after. But it would take an army. The Veterans Administration reports that it treats more than 5.7 million veterans who are classified as “patients,” nearly 300,000 of whom are “100% disabled,” including 1 million who are amputees. More than 3.3 million of the injuries are “service-re- lated,” ranging from everyday accidents that can befall 74 DISTINCTLY MONTANA • SPRING 2011 ROYCE GORSUCH

• Cover