Open For Business

Dates: March 28, 2010
Location: Warwick
Air temp: 50s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: maybe 10 (browns & bows)

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

Xan


Aw shit.  It's on.  The Warwick was now finally free from the cruel grip of winter.  The ice was gone and the levels were right.  When I go fishing these days, I can be assured of two things.  1. My right foot will get wet.  2. The Warwick has some fat fish.

I first went to one of my favorite runs, a bit upstream from the park.  As I got to work, I realized I was in for a long day of brisk wind.  Casting in between gusts, I hooked into a solid fish and fighter.  The moment I'd been waiting for all winter was finally here... until the fish popped off.  I went up the run, lost some flies, then, not satisfied, fished the run again.  This proved to be a good idea, landing a few fish, including a decent piggy.  


Driving downstream to the next lot, I didn't find much success.  I pulled a brown out of the pool, but lost more flies.  It came to the point where I had to put on a new leader and ditch the 5x tippet that seemed to have gone bad. 


Next up:  Waterfall.  This is a pretty unique spot.  Not only is the scenery magnificent, and the fish large, it is also a bit of an exhibitionist endeavor.  On a nice day, you'll find numerous people milling about, enjoying the sights and breathing in the water vapor.  A couple of ladies were on the bridge, and after some time, I got the sense they were watching me.  I hooked into two fish, landing one.  They soon came over to me, and one of them told me her friend had taken some pictures of me fishing.  The photog came over, and showed me the snaps.  They asked for my email address to send me the pics.  I gave it to them, thanked them, and they went on their way.


Going up to level two of the falls, I found no fish.  Level three, nada.  Hiking upstream a ways proved just as futile.  I decided to end my day back at the falls to further indulge my exhibitionism.  I did not disappoint.  Soon into my return, my indicator twitched, I set, and a decent sized fish was on.  I could feel the eyes watching me as I fought the fish like a pro.  After an epic battle, a sucker, which I had hooked in the back, came out of the water.  It thrashed about and broke off my dropper, taking my pink squirrel back whence it came.  The crowd then threw stones and rotten vegetables at me, which was well deserved.  I continued on for a bit, landing proper fish, of the bow and brown variety.  The end of my day came just below the falls, where a chub grabbed my dropper, giving me a Warwick Grand Slam. 

Of Lazy Days and Death Stares

Dates: March 21, 2010
Location: Warwick, Canyon Area, Mr. F
Air temp: 40s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: 2 (brown and brook)

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

Xan


After a solid early season day, it was time to come back to Earth.  I went back to the Warwick, and visited the falls.  It was still blown out, so I headed over to Lunds to pick up some flies, then went to the smaller dam above the Canyon.  Standing on Dead Gosling Rock, my quest for a lunker at the head of the dam proved unsuccessful.  I went over to the little falls, and was able to land a small brown and an average brookie.  


Next, I went down to the main dam at the Canyon, and threw nymphs and streamers to no effect.  Getting hungry, I went into town and got some Chinese.  Not in much hurry to fish, I walked around the town, by the river, taking in the atmosphere.  Of all the Wisconsin towns I've been to, the Canyon's is my favorite.  Not just for the dollar flies and penny parking meters.  The place is a time warp back to the America of yesteryear, that only exists in the brains of Republicans (-N. Flanders).  On a Sunday, the town has a wonderful, lazy energy, one I was more than happy to enjoy.


I finally made my way to finish off the day at Mr. F.  I walked downstream to fish a reliable run.  I saw a few rises, but had no success with my nymphs.  I decided to give it another go with a dry, until a couple mouth-breathers came by.  One kept walking downstream, while the other started casting right into the run I was standing at.  That was enough of a sign to call it a day, and I gave the knuckle-dragger my best death stare as I walked past him to the lot. 

Are You Experienced?

Dates: March 20, 2010
Location: Warwick, Great Lawn
Air temp: 40s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: 10ish (browns)

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

Xan
Quickdraw


Sometimes the fishing gods offer you a sign.  Sometimes they offer you two signs.  Sometimes you ignore them anyway and find out for your damn self.  As Quick and I were setting up in the lot of the Warwick, a very nice lady was walking back to her car with her dog.  Seeing we were anglers of the highest order, she made some small talk.  After revealing that she was learning the ways of the long rod, she said very politely, "I'm not as experienced as you guys are, but I'd say the river is a bit high from what I can tell."  We thanked her for her input, but nevertheless strode off to the river.


As QD and I split off to fish the first run, a man approached me, and in a much less gentle fashion blathered out, "You'll have more luck catching a turd than a fish!"  Of course, I paid little heed and got into the river.  After realizing I couldn't cross safely, I stayed on that side and wasted some time casting into the flow.  After about 10 minutes, we relented and got the hell out of there.


So, we went to the Great Lawn.  The water was a tad low, and crystal clear, but fishable.  We walked up to the first bend/pool, and tried our luck nymphing.  A few hits, but no lands, kept us there a bit too long, before we relented once again and made our way upstream.  Our time fishing that area had allowed numerous anglers a chance to secure most of the best spots along the way, so further upstream we went.


Eventually, we reached the last fishable run for a long, long ways.  It was pretty small, you could stand in one place and get a drift through all the good water, but it was fast and a bit deep.  I decided to wet a line, and was rewarded with a fish.  Second cast, fish.  Not wanting to hog the run, I ceded the run to Quick.  

After a few fruitless casts, he got tangled up, so I jumped back in.  The fish just kept coming, a few being decent.

This went on for a bit until the run seemed to be dead.  We hiked back down, stopping to fish a pool.  With QD at the head, and myself manning the tail, this inequality of riches continued.  Clearly, QD had angered the fishing gods.  Some days they smile upon you, other days you shit the bed.  


The day concluded with more fish.  After we got back to town, we met up with Booter to watch the Fackin' Fly Fishing Film Tour (FFFFT).  There were many great flicks, a bounty of free swag, and a room full of "elitist fly fisherman" (I overheard a mouth-breather use the term outside the theater).  To him I say, damn right, ape fucker!

Rocks Off

Dates: March 14, 2010
Location: Famous Original Ray's
Air temp: 50s
Water temp: ?
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: 1 brown

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

TAFKAY
Booter
Xan
Scoot
Quickdraw


A week's worth of thaw = brown. While the river wasn't completely blown to shit, there were no cars at the lot, which should have told us something.  We set about our Don Quixote-like quest, fighting windmills on the river.  

Things weren't all futile, however.  A new game was born.  A game that will stand by Rock-Stick-Ball and Ice Breaker.  I present to you: Displacement.  At a foamy area of the river, the Displacer throws a rock into the foam.  The rock creates a hole of clear water in the foam, whence the Contestants try to throw their own rocks into the clear water.  


Back to the story at hand.


Up and further upstream we went.  We eventually had a glimmer of hope.  Quick landed a trout in the (normally) slow water downstream of the gallery.  By the time we got to the gallery, Boot and Scoot had to go home.  TAFKAY was insistent to fish up to the first bend, and his instincts paid off.  Two fish came to his hand, one to mine, and another for Quick.


The fish were small, the fishing mostly fruitless, but it was a gorgeous day.  Now the excitement builds.  The nexus of perfect weather, good water, low vegetation and big fish is near.  The real March Madness is around the corner.  Get excited kids, game's gonna get good.

Wet n' Hard: Opener 2010

Dates: March 6, 2010
Location: EP Spot & Warwick
Air temp: 40s
Water temp: ?s
Hatches: ?
Fish landed: 0

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

Quickdraw
Booter
Xan

Another year, another opener. As I get older, I find myself getting less excited for opener. Much like closer, I know the fishing will probably suck ass. Still, while I didn't feel like a kid on Christmas morning, on the ride out to the river, I felt whole again. I would probably get skunked, but much like "Xan Time," I need time wandering around nature.

No one was eager to take the lead and choose our inaugural spot, probably to avoid the blame when everyone got the skunk. We eventually wound up at the EP Spot and found the parking lot to be surprisingly quiet. We geared up and headed downstream. The water was low and somewhat clear, but mostly ice free.

First cast of the year

So we started the game. Cast, cast, cast, cast, cast some more, move downstream, cast, cast.... Deeper runs were hard to find, but Booter found one that produced a couple modest fish. The stank would remain on Quick and I.

Booter had to leave early, so Quick and I went to a new bar for some lunch. A more modern version of the EPB&G, it had low prices, no spicy curds (just regular), but accepted credit cards. Sated with decent burgers, we decided to check out the Warwick.

Nymphing a sweet run

Things weren't so hot over at the Warwick, but it was fun to walk on the river. Below the dam, the river was running, but the trout were still not biting. Ah, the joys of opener.