Right

Date: April 28, 2007
Location: Warwick
Air temp: high 60s
Water temp: ??? (I really need to buy some new batteries)
Hatches: Some very small bugs, but no rises to speak of
Fish landed: Around 12, mostly bows, some browns

Present members of the Fly Anglers Guild :|: Upper Midwest Chapter, for this outing were:

Xan
Fruit Booter

We got a late start to the day, leaving around 1pm. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. Naturally, we bitched about this fact as we drove to the stream, as we expected the water to be clear, levels low and the fish a spookin'.

We figured by this point, the Warwick would be our best bet, and sure enough, the levels were decent and the water was cloudy. This is a very spotty river, with large stretches seemingly containing only chubs. After a small brown and many, many chubs, the hot spots, where all the trout chill and drink their Remy, were found. They were the usual areas, replete with aggressive bows and the occasional brown. Both Fruit and I caught odd looking bows, that had the pink stripe of a bow, but the spots of a brown.

As we fished our way back to the car, we noticed a couple canoes on the big flat. Assuming the fish in that area to be spooked, we started making our way to the car to drive to the big pool. They left the flat and passed us by. Fruity B suggested we try the area anyways, and I wisely heeded his advice.

There are (usually brief and far too few) spans in fishing when everything is right. Your approach gives you a comfortable casting lane. Your fly selection is drifting naturally, and if intended, weighted enough and sinking to the right depth. The strike indicator is where it should be. You know where the fish are, trout tending towards the bank, chubs in the middle of the stream. Throw in some feisty bows and pheasant tails tied by Fruiter himself, and all one has to do is cast gently in the calm water.

Then, with everything right, you start pulling in fish, one after the other. When there is a lull in the action, you move up a few steps and start the process all over again, adjusting the indicator now and then, and getting it right each time. That's all a F.A.G. really asks for, much less on a warm spring day.

After things slowed down, we drove to the pool to see if we could pull out any hogs. Not much was going on, though FB was able to land a few decent browns. As the sun was setting, we went back to the car where a tweeker and his lady invited us to steal his motorcycle, insisting that we use the "brain buckets" if we did.

Fruit was able to get that sucker up to 97mph before he hit a badger and crashed into Curly's Bar. He will be missed, but at least I caught an ass load of fish.