Welcome to Wyoming. Nothing like a little scenery to go with ones fishing. Camping too. Take a hike. Just a few miles to stretch the old legs. Get out in the wind. Blow the stink off as my wife would say.
Best have a fishing license. You never know when Mr. Warden will show up. Riding a horse no less. Maybe talk about fish and bears and stuff. Then, just like any good cowpoke, he'll ride away. What a great way to spend the summer.
Like mountains? Well, there's lots of 'em. Better have a camera. Keep it handy, you'll want to take a picture every few steps or so.
Smell that? It's fresh air. Well, maybe with a little forest fire smoke thrown in. Then there's the sweet smell of grouse whortleberry. What's a whortleberry? I'm glad you asked. It's a member of the blueberry or huckleberry family. They're small, but good eating. Go good in pancakes too. Gotta be patient to pick the little buggers though.
This is high country, brookie country. They're not big, but there's lots of 'em. Usually, they're willing to take a fly. Sometimes you got to work a little during the day. But, when the wind dies down and the lake surface stills, the fishing gets good. Any fisherman knows, one good evening hour can make up for a slow afternoon.
And, if you're lucky like me. There won't be any bugs! The little bloodthirsty bastards don't take too kindly to the summer snow and cold. Just not tough enough I guess. Too bad.