The Mental Stress of Getting Skunked

It's okay, it's no big deal. It's fine...really...IT'S...FINE.

"Well that was an incredible waste of time," I thought as I walked back to the bank, my right leg weighed down by a couple gallons of river water I'd taken on from a leak in my waders. Just icing on the cake. A skunk cake where I fished four hours without a single bite. I threw everything I had at the water, knowing there were fish in the area, and had no idea why I wasn't getting any action. I felt like I spent four hours doing nothing, learning nothing, and had nothing to show for it. That's not true at all, but we'll get to that.

As I steamed and fumed on the way home, dealing with emotions that I didn't really understand, I realized I needed to talk through things with my wife. As always, she helped me get to some good conclusions and ways forward.

Getting Skunked is a Failure

I tried for years to tell myself after getting skunked, "Hey, any day on the water is a good day." While there are plenty of people who genuinely have that outlook, I'm not one of them. Surprisingly, admitting that to myself actually made me feel better, not worse. Let me explain.

My overarching goal as a fly fisherperson is to become a more competent fly fisherperson. Whether I'm actually out on the water, or I'm tying flies, prepping my gear, looking at maps, listening to podcasts, reading books; all of these activities are in furtherance of getting better at fishing. When I go fishing, I may have subgoals that I have set for myself, such as working on nymphing presentations. But the most objective measure of my progress toward becoming a more competent angler is catching fish. Stated differently, catching fish is a sub-goal to becoming a better angler. So, if I catch no fish, I have failed my sub-goal of catching fish.

And that's okay.

There is still plenty to gain in the face of failure, but it requires honesty and reflection. For me, failure imparts a sense of personal responsibility. It creates an urge to make note of my mistakes, learn from them, change approaches, try again, and measure results. If I dismiss the skunk with a casual "hey, just another good day on the water; we'll get em next time," there's no urgency.

More importantly, I'm lying to myself by saying it was a good day. String enough "good" days on the water together, and eventually I'll just give up. With the adult responsibilties I have on my plate, I have better things to do than wander aimlessly on the water, and I'll go do those instead of wasting my time. And once you feel like you're wasting your time, that's when you get closer to making the dreaded TRUE LAST CAST, instead of the ONE MORE LAST CAST.

I Didn't Waste My Time Today

By starting from a place of honesty, I also have to be honest and say that, despite failing to catch fish, I didn't waste my time out on the water. I made progress toward my goal of becoming a more competent angler.

So looking back at this weekend, I failed by not catching fish, but I didn't waste my time. I fished a new stretch of water, in a new watershed. I learned the topography of that stretch. I saw multiple hatches of different aquatic insects. I took a new rod out for a spin. I fished with split shot for the first time. I saw that rigid edges of waterproofing tape on waders can cause premature failures. I learned that the spot I fished in is frequented by non-anglers visiting a state park, and that it's probably better to fish it on inclement weather days.

To wrap this stream of consciousness up, everybody has their own outlooks toward fishing. Above all else, I'd urge anybody to find what works for you, what makes you happy, and stick with it. But if you're struggling, if you're frustrated, take some time to think about how you feel, try to be honest with yourself, talk to someone whose input you trust, and you might gain a new outlook that brings you more happiness on the water.

You all should do that, though; not me. This article was entirely hypothetical. I never get skunked.

Trip Report -- Striking Out on Pre-Spawn Smallies

You sure there's fish in there?

On Saturday, I spent the better part of four hours throwing everything I could think at a quarter mile stretch of water that I was sure held fish of some sort. Did I see any? Not really. Did I get any bites? Not that I could tell. But I'm 99% sure they were there. My first inclination is to blame myself. Surely, I was doing something wrong. On top of that, my waders sprung a leak along a seam, and my right leg had slowly filled up with water.

I'm going to write a separate post on dealing with the mental fallout of failed outings, but suffice it to say, I was not a happy camper. My first inclination is to blame myself. Surely, I was doing something wrong. I just had no clue what it was. I felt like I fished well, and fished hard. And as I walked up to my car and started packing up my gear, I also felt like I had wasted a bunch of time and came away with nothing. No lessons learned.

The truth is I got to spend time on a new stretch of water. I still feel as though it's a good stretch of water. I saw multiple insect hatches. I felt the water rise and fall with the hourly pulses from the dam miles away. I got a look at the river's topography, learning where structure and pools lay beneath the surface. I used split shot for the first time. I got to fish with a rod I had broken nearly ten years ago and never fixed until a couple weeks ago.

Fishing can be hard, and sometimes with no explanation as to why. But look for victories wherever you can find them.

P.S.: I went to a party that had a bunch of other anglers there, and turns out everyone had a rough go of it that day. We decided to blame it on the weather. Right or wrong, it has been a weird week in March, with the temps fluctuating between 20 and 80 degrees Fahrenheit and everything from thunderstorms to snow.

Random Thoughts of the Day - March 20th, 2026

Life has been busy the past couple days, but let's get into it. This weekend, I'm heading to check out a new watershed with some supposedly good smallie fishing. I've been tying for that, as well as for an upcoming float trip.

Today's Ponderings:

1. A new tyer asked me where they can get a good start on some inexpensive fly tying materials specifically for trout. Without hesitation I pointed them toward the Mad Scientist and his online shop, Fly Tyer's Dungeon. When I ordered from him, there was a holiday gift box that I'd ordered in October. Wonderful value, but no longer available, so I told him I'd put together a list for a custom box that he could order. I'm going to give myself a $50 budget. Here goes:

   1. Oh my god, nevermind. Since I last ordered in 2017, his product offerings have multiplied and I can't really make an informed recommendation. I will say that the Skeeter Fuzz and Wee Folk dubbings are some of my favorites. Also, I use the various tinsels and flashes all the time for my attractor patterns. I think maybe I'm going to have to order a sampler pack and give some of this new stuff a try.