I’m about half way through my second cup of coffee on day three. Pat Metheny is on the music box as the steady parade of drift boats and guides, seasoned and newbies, roll into the grocery store parking lot for coffee and smokes. Bleary/beery eyes turn stone cold as they load pop, chips, sandwiches, and libations into coolers before meeting at 8 a.m. with their half-day clients.

I spent the last two days hitting spots around town and south of the Park. The cutthroat were plentiful and the backdrop is nothing short of Adams-esque! The fish don’t really perk up until mid morning. You can fish early (I did), but it just takes more effort on both sides, and your partner can sometimes be less than enthusiastic. By 2 p.m., the storms roll off the Mountains and your back in town for liquid refreshment, hoping for bugs around dark. Caddis and hoppers bring on the aerial circus of 8-to-18-inchers, a show sure to raise a few whoots!

If you’ve been, you know. If not, put it on your dance card right away. My 10 days were just enough to scratch the surface. I came up from the south, for sentimental reasons, but really, all roads lead West.