DAMSELS IN DISTRESS--A SUMMER SMALLMOUTH DRAMA
Given a flatter rock, it would’ve been effortless to fade off into the blissful stupor of a midday, summertime nap, riverside. Without one, it was as close to a dream as I can have, waking. The crystal clear water of the James River flowed swiftly by the warm gravel bar I was sitting on, ripe with oxygen after spilling over three miles of ledges and splitting into a maze of rivulets. A dip in the river thinned the dense weight of August in the Piedmont. The smallmouth were hu