A few weeks ago, Kirk Deeter wrote about his love-hate relationship with the Bighorn River in Montana. Though I can commiserate on much of what he feels, I've been visiting there for far fewer years than he has and, quite honestly, still can't get past the stark beauty of the place. It's not Yellowstone or Glacier National Park, and its trout don't get massive, but, man, it's gorgeous. I love the flat feel of the high prairie, the giant cottonwoods blowing in the wind, and the water so clear you can spot a quarter on the bottom. I don't get up there often, but when I do, I enjoy the hell out it, crowds or not.