Welcome to Yellowstone

Arriving late to Yellowstone can be a risky thing. I always forget how incredibly far it is and how long the drive is across Wyoming. The original goal was to be in the Park by midday on Sunday, but between stopping to sleep a few hours in the car on Saturday night and buying some groceries on Sunday, I arrived in the Park late in the day. The sign at the South Entrance informed me that all of the campgrounds were already full except for at Lewis Lake. Luckily that was the closest so I had a chance to claim a site.

Sure enough, I snagged a site but none too early as lots of forlorn looking travelers were doing the drive around the campground routine looking for a nonexistent available site shortly after my arrival. With an hour or two until sundown, I walked down to the lakeshore and enjoyed the sunset before heading back for an early bedtime. The drive had me tired out, and I needed plenty of energy for the next few days of fishing. 

That night I was reminded how cold it can get in the high country, especially late in the season. However, being tired has its advantages so I slept quite well. The next morning, I was up and packed before sunrise and made it to West Thumb Geyser Basin for an early morning photo opportunity. The early morning sun lit up the steam creating some beautiful views. A big bull elk surprised me on the way. He was wandering in the road and bugling, his breath condensing into vapor in the cold morning air. 

Moving on down the road, I decided to take the scenic route over to Norris by way of Hayden Valley and Canyon. The idea seemed even better when I found a delicious breakfast at Canyon and a place to buy a fishing license. Full and content, I hurried on towards Norris and grabbed one of only a handful of available campsites. Clearly the crowds were still on the high side considering how late in the season it was. 

In no time I had my camp set up, and soon I had a rod strung up headed to the meadow stretch on the Gibbon right by the campground. Shortly after starting, that first Yellowstone trout graced the end of my line, a gorgeous Gibbon River brown trout. 

I continued up through the meadow, catching fish here and there, and as the sun was starting to drop in the western sky I decided to head for West Yellowstone. The sky over the Madison was worth a stop for pictures. By the time I got back to camp, I was already completely satisfied with my Yellowstone trip and the adventure had only begun!