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.