Why I Fish and Shoot Even When It’s Not Perfect

Some days aren’t good.

The fish don’t move. The shots don’t break clean. Nothing feels right.

And I still go anyway.

There’s a version of this in both fly fishing and archery that nobody really talks about. Everyone wants the clean days—the ones where fish are rising, your casts land soft, your bow feels locked in, and everything just works.

Those days are great.

But they’re not the ones that make you better.

I’ve had days on the water where I knew within the first 20 minutes it wasn’t going to be easy. Cold water. No bugs. Fish tucked in and not interested in anything I was doing.

You can feel it right away.

It’s the same at the range sometimes. You step up, draw back, and something’s just off. Your anchor doesn’t feel right. Your pin floats more than it should. You start second guessing shots you normally don’t even think about.

Those are the days most people pack it in early.

Or they go through the motions without really being there.

I used to do the same thing.

Now I stay.

Not because it’s fun. Most of the time it’s not.

But because those days force you to pay attention.

When fishing is easy, you don’t really have to think. You can get away with a bad drift. You can be a little sloppy and still catch fish. Same thing with shooting—when everything’s clicking, you can miss small details and still hit what you’re aiming at.

But when it’s tough, everything gets exposed.

Your drift isn’t as clean as you thought.

Your hookset is late.

You’re rushing shots.

You’re not committing to the process.

There’s no hiding from it.

Some of the best adjustments I’ve ever made came from days where nothing worked at first.

Slowing down more than I thought I needed to.

Changing angles instead of flies.

Fishing less water, but fishing it better.

Letting shots break instead of forcing them.

None of that comes from perfect days.

You only figure that out when you’re struggling.

There’s also something to be said for just showing up when you don’t feel like it.

Cold mornings. Windy afternoons. Days where you’re busy and could easily come up with a reason not to go.

Those are usually the days that end up meaning more.

Not because you caught more fish or shot better—but because you didn’t need it to be perfect to go.

That’s where consistency comes from.

I think a lot of people wait for the right conditions.

Better weather. Better fishing reports. A day where they feel “on.”

But if you only go when it lines up like that, you miss most of the opportunities to actually improve.

And honestly, you miss a lot of the experience too.

Some of the best days I’ve had didn’t start out that way.

They turned into something because I stayed long enough to figure it out.

There’s a different kind of confidence that comes from that.

Not the kind that comes from everything going right—but the kind that comes from knowing you can handle it when it doesn’t.

When your shot doesn’t feel perfect.

When the fish aren’t cooperating.

When nothing is easy.

You’ve been there before. You’ve worked through it.

That matters a lot more than one good day.

I still like the perfect days.

Everyone does.

But I don’t wait for them anymore.

I’ll take the tough ones, the slow ones, the frustrating ones—because those are the days that actually build something.

Perfect conditions don’t make you better.

Showing up does.

— Summit and Stream