Saturday, April 11, 2009

Saturday Slab City Slaughter

Dates: April 11, 2009
Location: Various parts of the Warwick
Air temp: 50s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: midges
Fish landed: 18 or 19


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

Xan


I needed fish. I needed to get back into my rhythm. No more waking up late and getting beat by the crowds, no more shitty Curd River, no more bullshit.

Leaving the house at a decent hour, I settled back into my familiar ways. I got breakfast at a McDonald's drive through. I took a shit at a gas station bathroom while Roy Orbison's "In Dreams" played over the muzak system. I'd been missing this, waking up after McD's stops serving breakfast, shitting at home. The early bird gets the worm, and the early fisherman gets the trout.

The Curd was out of the picture, so was the Canyon. I rolled the dice and went to the Warwick. The W isn't bad by any stretch. Granted, in the summer it becomes chub city, but this is a river that holds decent fish, and bows to boot. The only problem with it is that it's feast or famine. While the other rivers generally have trout scattered throughout, the Warwick has vast stretches of no fish, with areas that hold trout few and far between. If you don't know these areas, you can be in for a long day of wasted casts, but I know a few, and I was determined to hit them.

The water was a bit low, but had a tint. I started at my go-to run, a place QD and I had been to a few weeks prior. Sure enough, I quickly dug into the always aggressive bows. A smallish fellow, but better than anything I've landed on the Curd in recent days. Then, the slabs started coming in. They weren't long, all roughly 15", but they were FAT. These were Rosie O'Donells. I had a hard time getting my hand around them. I landed three Rosies at this first run, two bows and a brown. They were all great fighters, my arm getting its first good workout of the year.

I walked downstream to another known run and landed a few more smaller bows. It was here I finally saw another fishman. Knowing there wasn't much more decent water around, I headed back to the car and drove to the next access point downstream. Here there is a nice pool, and I started landing fish immediately. Another Rosie or two came to hand before the spot went cold. I moved upstream, and pulled out a few more fish, including yet another Rosie brown.

I decided to give another area downstream a try. I had fished it in years past with no luck, but was curious. I drove to the lot, only to find a bunch of cars, so I drove to another lot just upstream. I ended up hiking to the spot I had intended to check out. Finding no other fishermen around, I started plumming the run/pool. Bow after bow came to hand, topped off by one final Rosie, a nice 14" brown.

It was the perfect day; numbers, size, great fights, a sore arm, beautiful weather, and the river seemingly to myself. Before the season started, TP declared this to be the year of the Warwick. I say TP is wiser beyond his years. I say, yes.

Bad Friday

Dates: April 10, 2009
Location: U(ltra)EPB&G Spot
Air temp: 50s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: midges
Fish landed: 1 little guy


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

Xan


Another late start, another shitty day. Having the day off, I slept in, reluctantly getting out of bed to fish the Curd River. I'm not sure why I went, I knew it would be crap, but maybe I could at least beat the crowds.

Wrong.

Not only has the Curd been low and clear for most of the early season, it's been packed, even on weekdays. I first arrived at QD's favorite run, saw a car and kept going. Getting to the Lawn, I found two cars and two more after I had parked. I then went to the EPB&G spot, more cars. Driving off towards Famous Original Rays, I noticed that a spot in town I usually see cars parked at was empty. I had never fished this area, but fuck it, there weren't any other cars.

Peering down from the bridge, I saw not a single fish upstream. Walking to the other side of the road, I looked downstream and saw roughly 500 trout, and some of the biggest suckers I've ever seen, all piled up in a 50 foot run. We stared at each other for a while, a few trout rising occasionally for midges. I figured that wouldn't be a bad place to start fishing.

I hiked down from the bridge, waded underneath it, and started casting a dry toward the mass of fish. Nothing. Cast after cast, nothing. Giving up, I walked upstream to the first signs of life. A nice little run with a lot of risers.

Once again, I began the futile process of casting my dry. Much like the hero in a war movie, who is running for his life through a field of artillary fire, my fly floated past watery explosions all around it. Much to my dismay, it made it safely through every time but one, when a 2 inch fish was stupid enough to latch onto it. I must have tried 4 or 5 different dries, trying to match the hatch, but the fish didn't care. They had real midges to eat.

I hiked upstream a long, long ways, trying out nymphs at this point. I found very little fishable water, but I did find more fishermen. After a while, I got tired of exploring and headed back. I gave the artillary run and the trout refugee camp each another whirl, but with the same results. The Curd has curdled.


Saturday, April 4, 2009

Master Class (in sucking ass)

Dates: April 4, 2009
Location: Eagle Pass
Air temp: 40s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: 0


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

Xan


I got off to a late start on Saturday, which was made later with stops at Burger King, a gas station and Lunds. After I renewed my license and purchased some pink squirrels, I was on the road, ready to take advantage of the glorious overcast day.

There were four cars at Famous Original Rays, so I drove to Eagle Pass, determined to try a spot I hadn't been to this season. There were a couple of cars there, one of which departed with two anglers as I was setting up.

Fishing just upstream from the bridge, I began what would be a frustrating day of bullshit. Snags, two lost flies, getting caught in the same tree twice (once on the way up, then on the way back down), scaring every fish in the stream, destroying a leader, etc... The only fish I came close to catching was one that rose to my Royal Wulff early in the session.

I hiked up a ways upstream, fishing every decent looking spot, which were few and far between. Once again, the river was low and clear, and my late start ensured numerous anglers had already flogged the water I was fishing. On days like this, I can only take solace in the fact that I didn't impale myself with a guide or have to take a shit in the woods with just a sunflower seed bag to wipe with. There's always a bright side.

On a side note, what the fuck is up with Wisconsin and pile of shit stores like Pamida and Shopko? They seem poised to compete against Wal-Mart and Target respectively, except with roughly a quarter of the inventory. Need a store with no produce, six packs of Bud and Sanyo TVs? Pamida is your place!