I love fishing! Some of my earliest memories go back to fishing with my parents and my uncle. My wife says it's all made up memories because I can't even remember to lower the toilet seat after using it let alone from my pre-k days. I think it's more like selective memory. I mean I believe that you only have so much brain space and I don't want to waste any of it on toilet seat etiquette, ya know what I mean? Anyhow, Within the last year or so I have become somewhat obsessed with flyfishing. I can directly blame Brandon Butler, http://www.driftwoodoutdoors.com/ and Kevin Morlock, http://www.indigoguideservice.com/. How could you not fall in love with the romanticism of the long, sweeping casts and clear waters in A River Runs Through It? Pulling trout out of virgin pools of water beneath boulders the size of small cars deposited there by some glacier about 3.2 million years ago? Flyfishing here in Northwest Indiana is nothing like that or like any of the covers of flyfishing mags on the shelves at Gander Mountain. Here it's more like guerilla fishing in an urban jungle. Here you spend your time walking through 12 foot weeds behind a trucking facility to get access to a small trickle of water from a storm sewer that's spewing water from a rain 3.2 days ago. Instead of the long flowing casts you're forced to use pinpoint, slingshot type casts or the ocassional sideways rollcast, if you're lucky to even have that much room, to make your presentation. The fish here aren't the same either, they're bigger! All these tiny tributaries are at some point connected to Lake Michigan, and Lake Michigan has monster trout and salmon. Local chef and flyfisherman extrodinaire, Scot Hinkel, http://www.bistro54main.com/, has taken mercy on me and included me in a few fishing trips near home. Now although I have not caught anthing here on a fly yet, I have seen steelhead cruising waters that might not even cover their dorsal fins. I've seen kings pulled in from creeks here that even I could jump across. My day will come and when it does I promise I'll have some really awesome pictures of my fish, but til then, you'll have to settle for a few photos of Scot trying his best to ignore the "urban', and concentrate on the dorsal of that steelie 8 feet in front of him, right there next to the discarded spare tire...