Two weeks ago I had high hopes for a spring full of fish. I had dreams of fishing my local streams, searching for those fish I knew by name, hoping they made it through another long Indiana winter. I know now that spring is a tease. Spring is that girl in high school who lets you in for a second base slide but throws you out at third. In these past two weeks we’ve had storm after storm dump rain on our heads. What really gets me is that by July I will be begging the skies to open up and spit just a little of that precious liquid into these creeks. There are places that are now ten foot under and by August will be a trickle.

Today I went out just to see how two local spots were looking. According to the experts, we last had this much water in the 1950’s. Fields were flooded, the Wabash river is still out of it’s banks. Our smaller waters have gone down a bit, but not nearly enough to fish. The waters are moving triple the speed they normally do. I noticed some massive log jams but couldn’t get close to take a photo, the banks I normally walk on are gone, sitting a few feet down right now. We’ve got another two weeks before we can really think about fishing here. Two weeks if the skies don’t turn on the faucets. In case you were wondering, hope is on the surface reality is down below.

p.s. – watch out for anarchist love nazis when out on the water.

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