Being self-employed steals most of my time but over the last few years I've hammered out one week each year dedicated to nothing but fishing--this year that was last week. We camped on the shore of the upper Clarks Fork of the Yellowstone. The more accessable parts of the river gave decent catching (as opposed to 'fishing' which is excellent anywhere in this country) and we ate fish the first two days until we couldn't eat any more. Mostly rainbows but some brookies and cutthroats and the occassional brown. The remainder of the week the fish we ate had more mundane names like T-bone and New York strip. The less accessable (rock-climbing gear sometimes necessary)gave us quality catching that was off the scale--CT's and bows 15 to 20 inches (one 22+) and smaller trout that wore our reeling arms out. The river was so low this year that we could stand on boulders usually submerged and fish into canyon runs usually not reachable in normal years. On the last day (yesterday) we hiked up Crandall Creek six miles, into the Absaroka Wilderness. I've never seen the water so low in Crandall and the catching was spotty at best. Due to an unusally high run-off last spring, most of the old holes were either washed out or by-passed. At Hoodoo Creek our luck changed and the 14- to 16-inch CT's didn't care which color panther martin was thrown to them--they wanted it! In our excitment we forgot the time until the light began leaving the sky. We walked out in the dark (and the rain) which was not as upsetting as our knowlege that the Crandall country is prime grizzley habitat. I kept my 4-inch S&W 500 and Howa made 12-ga handy, but encountered no bruins. All-in-all a great little vacation. But now I need a few days off to recover--my legs and feet feel years older right now than I know them to be.