Bullen Merri – no place for weak hearts

Ray and I looked at the forecast yesterday and decided that a drive to Purrumbete and Bullen Merri was in order. As it turned out, the forecast was wrong – the light winds were anything but and the gale sweeping Lake Purrumbete ruled out the sight fishing we’d come for. But the high-walled crater of Bullen Merri offered some shelter so that became the venue for the whole day instead of half. With a perfect blue sky, we picked a steep bank. Ray headed left while I, in order to keep the sun behind me, walked right-handed well away from the water, with the intention of fishing back towards Ray.

Half way to the start of my ‘beat’, a gully gave an inadvertent view straight down to the water 30 metres below. I’d promised myself not to be distracted by trying to polaroid walking into the sun. But I couldn’t help it, my eye was drawn down and immediately I could see a huge fish-like shape. Surely not? Bullen Merri is a demanding fly water – you can catch the young trout and salmon often enough, but the big ones, for which the lake is famous, are a much tougher proposition. What were the odds of me spotting a monster in the very first bit of lake I looked into?

Ray scans a steep edge near where I saw the first fish.

Ray scans a steep edge near where I saw the first fish.

Yet the more I looked, the more convinced I was that it was a trout (it couldn’t be a salmon – the largest of these are so far a respectable 2.5 kg but this fish was another size up.) Despite the steady wave running parallel to the bank, I could make out a distinct tail and pectoral fins as it hovered right on the edge of the drop-off. I clambered down the slope as quickly as I could without scaring the fish, then made what in hindsight was a rushed cast. Blame it on fear that this rare opportunity could vanish any moment, but I landed the team of stick caddis & buzzer too close. The fish moved way from the flies, and out over the drop-off. It was so big I could still track it, so I raced ahead along the bank and ambushed it with a much better presentation. Then two metres from the flies, the monster veered out and around them. After a few more metres it swam down into Bullen Merri’s depths and disappeared for good.

At least the scenery was nice...

At least the scenery was nice…

Feeling a bit dejected, I went back to plan A, climbing the slope and walking into the sun. At the end of the steep shore, I turned to face back ‘down sun’, and immediately saw another beauty coming towards me, almost as big as the first. This time my cast was better, leading the fish by several metres. Crouched beside a tussock, I waited as the trout moved closer and closer, then swam deliberately towards the flies. I watched the indicator, watched the fish… was that a take? The indicator didn’t move but two metres down on the point fly, the fish must have nosed it if not eaten it. Should I have lifted? In hindsight, probably. I had a third chance about half an hour later. This time I was wade polaroiding and fishing a Woolly Bugger at the same time. At water level and with more haze in the sky, I could only make out the dark shape because it was so big and moving. Shaking like a leaf, I cast so that the fly could settle then move away from the trout as it approached. It almost worked; the shape followed the fly to within a rod length, then it too swam out over the drop-off and disappeared. That was the last fish I spotted despite two more hours of trying very hard – as you can imagine! Later, I did catch a few young Chinooks of maybe a pound or so, but let’s face it, that is not even close to a satisfying end to the story…