Every old athlete remembers August Two-A-Days… those first couple grueling weeks of fall practice in the ninety-degree heat where you pound your body back into physical shape. At the same time, the team is sorting itself out between the individuals and the teammates, the naturally gifted and the physically challenged, and the experienced veterans and the rookies. I don’t care to ever relive those weeks, but in a way, we all need a form of that. We all could benefit from an injection of discipline, of physical challenge, and of the process of building a team.

And so, as my daughter left for college to begin her Junior year of soccer two-a-days, I found myself pondering how it was already August and reflecting that my fishing season was mostly behind and uneventful. My fishing of late had yielded poor results and my skills less than sharp. I was clearly out of fishing-shape.

I called my uncle and invited him over for a couple days of chasing blue lines – some known and others known only on a map. I devoted myself to drifting nymphs despite it being the heart of terrestrial season. Day one resulted in around forty small, wild rainbows.

Day 2 we (no breaks during 2AD’s) we headed to some new water; One small stream and one larger river. Tangled rhododendron, snagged tree limbs, confusing maps, a fight with a brown-recluse while unsnagging a fly from a deadfall, and foreboding warnings about rattlesnakes and bears were the only highlights.

That being said…we had nobody to blame but ourselves, for at each stream we received good advice…albeit too late. Such as the local neighbor who said “which way did you guys go, the fish are upstream” after we spent two hours downstream. Or the power plant operator to whom we asked many questions about many things….but somehow failed to ask if there were any trout in the river. As Erich wisely pronounced, it’s funny how the value of advice goes down with time.

This should have been a sign…

Week 2 Conditioning….

Unwilling to spend the rest of summer ruminating on getting skunked, I went in search of bigger water, with deeper runs, and rumors of bigger trout. I spent more time researching different strike indicators and nymph rigs. I tied some hare’s ear variants that I have never seen in a book or a fly shop. And then…I focused on the drift of a New Zealand strike indicator…and it told tales of brown trout in the rocks below.

On a 54-degree morning in the mountains of southern Virginia in August, I discovered there is still much to learn, many fish to be caught, techniques to be mastered, and new waters to be found. August is a shoulder-season for the outdoorsman, but one that should not be overlooked. Be mindful of the water temperature, the snakes, and the bear – but get on the field and force yourself to learn something new.