All for one and . . . well... none for me

I was supposed to be at the computer all day. The forecast was for clouds and a cool +14. The clouds were nowhere to be seen. It was +18 at noon and almost no wind. Perfect sight fishing weather. Where could I go that wouldn't keep me out for hours on end, that I could hit & run? Google Earth teased me with a few tiny spring creeks a couple springs ago, leading AJ & I to come face to face with a monster brown cruising a beaver pond. It's an hour drive and 35 min walk in, but I knew it was one pond. Bingo.

I walked up the tiny little spring and in the tailout of a pool the size of a bath mat spooked an 11" brown. Not what I'd come for but a great sight.

It certainly is a tiny spring creek.

I arrived at the pond, the sun was at a perfect angle for viewing, the wind still, and I stood atop the bench. I hadn't been here in 2 1/2 years, and last time the fish were somewhat sluggish as it was just ice out. Besides that there might be 3 fish sharing the wintering pool as carrying capacity dictates supply and demand opportunity. I saw nothing as I strolled. Strolled might be a big word. Took a small step forward every 10 seconds. Nothing. I decided to take a cast out, just in case something held below a submerged log. Insert dumb mistake here . The irony wasn't lost on me as I reached out for my fly. I just got it out of the tree and was thinking to myself "this is usually when it would swim by". Uh huh. As I pulled my fly out and swung my rod behind me to avoid the reflective shine of the rod on the water, my big brown from 2 1/2 yrs ago came down the shoreline pipe, 2 feet from shore, leisurely swimming and finning. I struggled to race to get my fly out of the shrubs behind me. I looked for the fish. It was within 10 feet, closing, coming right at me. I froze on the spot, hoping to go unnoticed. If ever there was a gimmie fish, that was the moment. 26" and FAAAAT. 6 pounds easily, going 7 likely. And on down the shoreline it went. I was able to untangle my fly and line and give "chase". This was an ant's version of the OJ speed chase. I could see the fish but couldn't rush to it for fear my footsteps would reverberate into the water and spook it. I had to walk around into the bush and try to get ahead of the fish. I last saw it under a pine tree heading for the tail end of the pool. I got behind another pine tree and looked down the bank in the direction the fish was headed. It wasn't there. I looked back up the bank. Coming toward me with a huge head and big, rubbery lips was my Maestro. I bow & arrowed a cast along the outreaching pine. The fish, now less than a rod length from me, turned and came right at the hopper. It looked just like those photos on the New Zealand Fly Fishing Forum, the big head and lips coming straight up from the bottom, mouth agape. Awesome. Incredible. I had ample time to insert adjectives as the fish came in the still water. It turned and refused! Bugger! I lifted and shot the arrow again. It came within 2" of the fly from the bottom and again refused. I lifted and shot the arrow one last time. Another refusal. The toughest gimmie fish of the summer. It went on the opposite side of the pine tree from me and rested for a minute. I waited for it to move, not wanting to commit to taking a walk around the bush again to reposition in case it too moved, causing me to lose sight of it. So I sat. Waited. Took a couple of photos of the fish sitting there. All the while, my last cast lay on the water, waiting for the fish to move back out.

As I put the camera away, I realized I had been too focused on the big boy. At my feet was a smaller, 21" female. Here's the conundrum. My fly was sitting on the water and while it would have been nice to catch the female, I knew that doing so would kill any shot of the male - it would spook the second I hooked up. In a split decision, as the female rose at my hopper, I lifted it off the water. The female actually came out of the water to take the hopper but missed. She stopped, stunned, before sidling up to the male. The two of them swam away together, back up the shoreline. As the big male went, I watched as he took a nymph, his white mouth opening and gill plate flaring. No doubt any nymph would have taken him.
I decided to wait once more, and opened my fly box to tie on a dropper. The corner of my eye revealed the male doubling back. I was still with hopper. Only the hopper. And we played the same damned game once more. This time, rather than station on the opposite side of the pine, he went to the far side. I considered giving chase with a long cast, but as I raised the rod the female swam under my rod. Again, not wanting to spook her and then the male by default, I lifted the fly off the water as she again was coming straight for it. I tried to wait her out. Sadly, she stationed at my feet. About 30 seconds later the male cruised past and the female followed along for the ride. As he left his mouth again opened to take something subsurface. I didn't see them again.
It was one of those trips where I knew I was all for one pool, all for one large male brown. I knew I had to risk none. Alas, it turned out to be all for one, and none for me.
I take some comfort in the fact that AJ couldn't be with me and there would have been no video of the moment. So, by not catching it today, coupled with the forecast later this week when she gets home to fish with me again, maybe... just maybe we can recreate that scene and get it on the HD.
It won't take me 2 - 1/2 yrs to get back there.