Standing on the loose gravel bottom and knee deep in water I watched stoically as another fish flashed. From my vantage point it looked to be a 16-18 inch brown, and appeared to be just one of the several dozen fish that were actively feeding within casting range of my position. It was at that point when the evening came together for me. Not that I suddenly had an epiphany of fish catching knowledge, but more in the realization that I would probably not move from that location until it turned dark. I had come to that point where I am most comfortable in my piscatorial pursuits, which is locked in a chess match with fish carrying a brain the size of a number 2 pencil eraser.