Jim Belsey's Story

Jim Belsey was born in Los Angeles on May 22, 1932. He grew up in Southern California, graduated from the Thacher School in Ojai, and then graduated from Stanford University in 1953. He was a naval officer for three years in the South Pacific after which he went to work for the fledgling Sports Illustrated magazine in New York City. His next job was with the Sierra Club in San Francisco. From there Jim moved to Denver and became Executive Director of Colorado Trout Unlimited. In 1986 Jim moved to Bozeman and served on the boards of the local chapter and state council of Trout Unlimited and the Montana Trout Foundation. Following the outbreak of whirling disease in the 1990’s, Jim helped organize and was a founding board member of the Whirling Disease Foundation. 

Jim loved life, especially fly fishing, betting on horse races, golf, strong drink, cigarettes, good food and engaging in repartee with a vast array of friends from all walks of life. He was an excellent writer and his Christmas letters were always a joy to receive. Above all, he was a great friend. He was not just your friend, he became a friend of your spouse, your siblings, your children and your parents. He cared about them all.

Jim loved living in Montana and delighted in being able to see four mountain ranges from his house, making it possible to monitor the winter snowpack that would provide water to his favorite trout streams. Montana Rivers were his playground and he floated them often in his Avon raft. He was a good fly fisherman who enjoyed catching trout. He seemed just as happy though on days when he “schneided.” The Smith River was his favorite and according to his wishes his ashes were scattered at the base of the Table Rock wall shortly after his death in 2002.  Next time you float past the Table Rock wall take a moment to remember Jim. He would like that.

"A few miles downriver from the put-in, I took up my rod and knotted on a "what-the-hell" fly-- a purple Woolly Bugger with a black maribou tail-- that had been tied by an old friend whose ashes were scattered here the previous year. Jim Belsey had called this river the Holy Water, and when an 18-inch brown boiled on my fourth or fifth cast, I imagined Jim winking in approval."   

Keith McCafferty, Field & Stream, June 2006