Not everything from our trip can make it into a blog post…. so here’s a round up of the extra pics.

I wouldn’t quite go as far as to say we’re cheapskates (although my dad taught me well – and early – the importance of looking after your pennies). But the more we camp, the more we are finding a bizarre correlation between the price of camping and the attractiveness of the camping spot. Should I say an adverse correlation. So the less you pay, the better the views, the more space you have, and the more authentic the camping experience. Free = Freedom!

As an example, this was the most expensive place we camped (like a ridiculous $100 a night!!!) – Jackson, Wyoming. Well situated for checking out the local bars and restaurants, not to mention decent loos and showers. But really, we’re like ducks in a row…

Some of our favorite camping spots on this trip included:

⁃ A riverside campground on Grassy Lake road in the Grand Tetons (free). A campground with just two(!) allotted sites, so space and privacy was not an issue. It also came with a picnic table, fire ring, and even a toilet. And the riverside location gave Darren another opportunity to get into his fly fishing groove.

⁃ A random spot in the Gros Ventre Wilderness, near Granite Hot Springs, south of the Tetons was a treat (free). Perfect after a dip in the hot springs pool, this is just open land you can camp on so no amenities (other than fire rings), but oodles of space. And out comes the corn hole.

⁃ Another random boondocking spot overlooking Henry’s Lake (free). There was a campsite maybe 2 miles away, campers all tightly lined up in a row, with no view. And then there’s us. And a night sky to die for.

⁃ Not forgetting good old Walmart (free). Not big on privacy or space and you might find yourself parked up between weirdos. But the real reason to go here is so you can visit local breweries, bars or other recommended drinking/dining establishments in a city location. When quite frankly any other central campsites tend to be even more densely packed than a Walmart car park and uber-expensive.

When you’re in a National Park your options are, shall we say, limited. Some are certainly better than others. But you are still likely to be packed in a campsite with way too many other campers. Even at the so called end of season when it’s supposed to be quiet(er).

One of the better National Park campsites – St Mary’s in Glacier NP

Luckily, Darren had done his research, and found a tiny rustic campsite in one of the lesser visited areas in Yellowstone: Slough campground in the Lamar valley. One slight problem: first come first served. Surely not a problem for the Hamiltons, we were up at the crack of dawn with the intention of securing a spot, a few choice words uttered as we tried to hitch up in the dark. What we hadn’t factored in to the sunrise drive was the need to stop for the buffalo traffic jam, gawp at the scenery, and savor the early morning light. After our 2 hour + scenic drive through Yellowstone, we arrived at Slough campground at 8:30am, only to find it had filled up over an hour earlier. Booooo.

Undeterred, we actually secured a great alternative (free!) spot along the Beartooth scenic highway outside the park with expansive mountain views, a spectacular sunset, and sooo much space.

We resolved to try again the next day: Slough Campground Take Two. The drive this time would take us over an hour, so the alarm was set for 3:45am. I repeat 3:45! In. The. Morning!!! An uneventful drive in the dark had us arriving at the campsite before 5:30am – second in the queue. We were just tucking into our hot oatmeal in the Basecamp when the ranger approached apologetically to let us know that for the first time in over a month, no one was leaving. As in no site available – move along. Oh well, mustn’t grumble, you can’t win em all. Let’s go find some wildlife instead.

For me, fly fishing will always be linked to J R Hartley. For anyone who doesn’t make the connection, this is down to a 1980s advert (for yellow pages I think) where a well-spoken English gentleman, advanced in years, was earnestly trying to track down a copy of a book called Fly Fishing by J R Hartley. He phoned around a lot of places (presumably where the yellow pages connection came in), and long story short, it turns out this guy was actually the author himself, and the point at which he is reunited with his book is one of those touching moments akin to the more recent John Lewis Christmas ads. Put it this way, I still remember it 30 years on.

Anyway, other than JR Hartley, my experience of fly fishing was limited to watching the film A River Runs Through It the other week. Much as I liked the scenery and enjoyed watching a very young Brad Pitt, it’s really not gonna prepare you for being able to catch fish.

Our 3 hour lesson on the Gallatin River included maybe half an hour indoors (quite welcome when the temperature outside is not much beyond freezing) studying the etymology of bugs and flies, 90 minutes learning to cast and practicing on the lawn (away from harmful trees and anything else we could get our lines tangled up in), and finally, an hour out on the river.

The guide told me that even though my technique worked – enthusiastically bending my whole upper body forward while casting, it didn’t look very cool. This, coming from someone who thinks fly fishing IS cool and idolizes Brad Pitt. Darren seemed to get the hang of it better than me, although in our short time out on the river, we soon learned why it is called fishing and not catching.

Oh but the little teaser lesson had given Darren the bug. We were on a mission to find a fishing shop, and he was straight in there for the starter kit – rod, line and flies.

Flies – now therein lies a whole new world. Bobbers, hoppers, nymphs and gnats. Apparently, you can’t just fish with any old flies. You have to know which flies are currently flying around the area you’re fishing at that exact time – otherwise the fish won’t be fooled and/or attracted by your flies. And we always thought fish were dumb.

As he bought his starter kit, Darren was told by the experienced fisherman/salesman, “Don’t worry, it only took me about 6 months to get the hang of it”. Hmm, well we had less than 2 weeks left and Darren set himself high expectations.

From that point forward in the trip, he took every opportune moment to hang out by the river and cast. Of course, there’s worse places to hang out. And he is nothing if not persistent, my husband!

As time passed, the excuses started rolling in:

“He must have sold me the wrong flies.”

“My lucky hat’s not working – I need a new hat.”

“There’s just so many people fishing, I don’t think there’s anything left for me to catch.“

“Well I can’t expect to catch something in my first two weeks.”

But I wouldn’t want to leave you with anything other than a happy ending. Imagine my relief – and Darren’s joy – when he actually caught his first fish. Trout, possibly/probably brown trout. Not just one but two. And there you have it – like a gambler with his first big win, Darren is hooked. And I am officially a fly fishing widow.

Post-holiday blog research, and I found the J.R. Hartley ad. Enjoy!

YouTube · asseenonthetv0:53Fly Fishing by J R Hartley – Classic Yellow Pages TV advertFeb 11, 2011