It's a humbling experience, getting skunked when anglers a few yards away are catching fish. Especially so when at the close of the day one of the successful anglers reveals what fly he's been using, and it's something that you tried earlier but abandoned too hastily.

Saturday I threw the gear in the truck and headed for a favorite fishing hole on the Androscoggin which is often a meeting place for brook trout, brown trout, rainbows and the occasional landlocked salmon. There were two guys there when I arrived, but plenty of water to share. A husband-and-wife combo arrived a bit later. Several insect hatches were in progress, the river was full of fish food, and occasional rises and sub-surface swirls offered promising prospects for a good bit of fun.

One of the two guys who were there earlier landed a brook trout. Then the other guy did. The wife got a fish. Then the husband. The other two guys caught another fish apiece. I was changing flies, drifting them past known fish locations, and getting exactly nothing. Dries, to match the Hendricksons I watched sailing past. Nymphs. Midges. A Hornberg. Caddis. All equally effective, which is to say not at all.

The sky darkened, the air was thick with mosquitoes and no-see-ums. The fish were rising, but not for me. One of the two early guys packed it in and headed up the trail to his car. The husband-and-wife combo waded ashore happy and left. The other early guy finally reeled his line in, broke down his rod, and headed for home, passing me on the trail beside the stream as I was contemplating my failure.

"How'd you do?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "You?"

"Three," he said, and I know he was being truthful because I'd seen him catch all three.

I popped the question: "What on?"

He showed me a good old #16 hare's ear nymph, something I had tried earlier and given up on.

Remember these words: Patience. Persistence.