You hear stories about some fisheries that are supposed to be excellent. Since you don't want to miss out on great fishing, and you figure that many people who talk up a spot can't be wrong about it, you plan a day to go see it.

Then you make the trip there — whether it's a long drive, a hike, or both — and you can't quite figure out what all the fuss was for. Either you get skunked, you don't see many fish, or the fish you DO see feel impossible to catch.

Well, maybe that was just a bad day. Every fishery has 'em. So the next time you go, you go with a friend who's fished it before, and he pulls out a pair of 24-inch fish, while you're left picking your flies out of trees and wondering why you gave up a Saturday of good college football for this.

Spots like this tend to stick under your skin, to stay with you until you either figure them out, or the memory fades enough that you can quietly shuffle it into the bin of character-building experiences you don't want to go through again.

There's one lake like this that I've fished for the better part of two decades, and against all my better judgement, I'm itching to go back this summer. It feels like unfinished business, but if I'm being honest, it's probably more about wounded pride.

Still — there's a lot to learn from places like this. I bet you'll pick up a few of the lessons far quicker than I did.

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