This one rewarded me with a nice lesson today. I had just stopped looking for a fly box I either dropped or left behind somewhere downstream. I was feeling pouty, frustrated, and just plain piste. I could have dropped any other box and it wouldn’t have been that bad. But no, this box was full of nymphs I had been tying all winter and the box was completely full (minus the one on my line). I was about to give up, kick some rocks, and head home to feel sorry for myself. I decided I was going to hike out a different way than I had come down and I noticed this dude sipping in a frothy seam. To take my mind off feeling sorry for myself I gave him a shot. One cast and he hammered my fly so hard it was disintegrated (there went the last fly). He fought long and hard all the way to my net. He was so exhausted I spent 15-20 minutes making sure he got his energy back. I think the knew I was looking out for him too, he didn’t try to take off, just let me hold him steady in the subtle current. Waiting. I formed a bond with brown. I’ve never spent that much time with a fish. When he had enough energy he let me know. I felt a surge of energy as he blasted from my gentle grip and into the deep. I learned a lot in those 15-20 minutes. About life, about myself, about why I pour so much money into this silly thing call fly fishing that it makes me want to puke. I just want to say thanks Mr Brown. I owe you one. Oh, and if you find a box full of nymphs and midges on the losho, merry Christmas, I hope they help you meet my friend here.