Generations

Dates: June 7, 2009
Location: Various parts of the Warwick
Air temp: upper 50s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: low double digits


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

Xan

It finally rained on Saturday. I stayed off the streams as the first good dousing in weeks replenished water levels, if only for a little while. On Sunday, I went fishing, though only after waking up rather late and finding it hard to motivate. The skies were overcast and the air temps were unusually cool, and I finally realized that I wouldn't see such plum conditions until September at best.

Because of my late start, I decided it would be a good day to hit lower traffic areas and perhaps explore a bit. I went to a spot well upstream on the Warwick, only to find a truck parked in the lot with a bumper sticker that read, "I fish, therefore I lie." I decided to give it a whirl anyways. This was a place I had found morels and hardy trout in years past. On this day, I would find neither, though I did land a few smaller trout here and there. As I made my way downstream, I came upon the presumed owner of the truck, an old mouth-breather who was stalking a large trout. In our brief exchange of chit chat, he made the remark that fly fishermen could not catch large trout. My retort consisted of the words, "You fish, therefore you die, ape fucker," coupled with a devastating chop to his temple. Actually, I ignored him and continued downstream until the trail disappeared and nothing looked very fishy, so I went back to the car.

At this point, it was exploring time. I studied the DeLorme to find spots between my normal Warwick haunts and my starting point. I found a few candidates and drove to check them out. My third stop looked the most promising. Walking down from the bridge, I found a few kids hanging out underneath. I asked if they would mind me wetting a line, to which they had no quarrel. The run looked promising, and sure enough, my first few casts landed fish. This piqued their interest, and they asked to get a closer look at my catch. Walking over to shore, I let a girl hold my brown trout, leaving you, my dear reader, to interpret that as you will. Not long after, some more kids and a couple adults arrived at the opposite bank, along with a dog not owned by anyone present. The dog proceeded to swim through the run, and one of the girls started yapping about her life story, so I got the hell out of there and went upstream.

I made my way up, finding my surroundings to be quite similar to the regions above the Canyon. Fish were landed here and there, though nothing of size. I explored for a while, until things started looking the same. After tiring of the lack of trails, I made my way back and went home.