I’ve driven between Seattle and Denver literally dozens of times. It is twenty hours and 1400 miles. This week I kept a promise I’d made to myself long ago - that I would stop and smell the roses as it were. I took an extra day in Bozeman, Montana and hired a guide from the River’s Edge fly shop to fish one of America’s great western rivers. Curiously, he was an Englishman, and still had a Manchester accent. I told him that London was my favorite city in the world, and that I would live there except for one thing: Trout. I simply cannot leave the lovely American trout fishing. Obviously he feels the same way When you make the drive like I do, you realize that it takes most of a day to drive around the Yellowstone National Park. For a good chunk of that, literally two hundred miles, you are driving along the Yellowstone river, which is one of the few rivers in the area that is fish-able this time of year. The rest are too low or too hot in August. Like the North Platte river in Wyoming, the Yellowstone just pumps out fish after fish. At the end of the day I had set personal record. I caught forty fish (40 exactly)! Mark, my English guide, said “David you can catch one more before we land” but I said “no, I think 40 is a nice round number” and I put my rod down and just enjoyed the river as we floated the last stretch. Sometimes when I fish all day I will have an epiphany. On this day I realized "I should stop complaining about my life, I have it pretty goddamn good."