And So It Begins

It may be a little premature, but I'm going to officially kick off this blog.

We just came rolling into southern Indiana from the West--Washington State, to be more precise. We lived there for ten years. Shortly after we arrived here I mentioned to a clerk at the grocery store that we had just moved to town. She asked from where, and I told her. The guy in line behind me overheard and muttered, "You f***ed up."

No, not really. I think I understand where he was coming from. We did leave behind some beautiful country, and some wonderful fly fishing. I will miss that. But moving here was not a mistake. It's a highly anticipated family reunion.

I am now officially retired, and this is where I wanted to live. We are now living near our three daughters and their families, and our fourth daughter and her boy, and one of our two sons, moved here with us. That means that all five of our grandchildren are close by for the first time. I love to fish, but I love my family and spending time with our grandchildren more.

I've lived in Indiana before, so I'm familiar with warm water fly fishing. Then again, I previously lived in northern Indiana. Southern Indiana is new country--and new water--that I'm eager to explore. The smallmouth opportunities abound here. And for a trout and steelhead fix, Michigan is just a few hours away. I've spent lots of time there, and can still remember every inch of the Pere Marquette River from the Clay Banks to the Green Cottage.  And every year I hope to travel back to the West to revisit some of my favorite waters there.

Now, though, the exploring has begun here. The backbone of this blog will be simple reports in words and photos of my fishing experiences around the area. I don't have a personal vehicle yet, so I won't be going too far afield until I get one. But it turns out you don't have to go too far afield to catch fish around here.

Just ten minutes from our house is a pleasant little bluegill and bass lake nestled in a nature preserve. It was the perfect place to take my three-year-old grandson, Sebastian, who had been pestering me to take him fishing since the day we arrived.

He went right to work, with some worms freshly dug from our yard, and had the honor of catching the first fish in Indiana.

And then he did it again.

Way to go, kid.

We crossed the road to the other side of the causeway where he let me use his rod to throw some bass plugs while he threw rocks.

But Sebastian was the top fisherman of the day.

While we drove home he might have been dreaming of catching the Big One.

Meanwhile, his Grandpa was dreaming of this new country and all the unknown waters waiting to be discovered.