We’ve Been Wading

Fishing is not for the faint of heart.

It is a roller coaster of wins and losses, ups and downs, stuck and unstuck, fish and no fish, hit and miss, and multiple “did you see that”. You walk into that river with the highest of hopes only to be tempted, tormented, and teased beyond relief as you cast in every direction with your heart on your vest. But no matter how many or few you are catching, the act of fishing is that of bliss. Hell, we’d fish the bathtub if there were some glimmer of hope of fish in there. And we didn’t say hope of “catching” the fish, there just has to be fish in the body of water and there we will be, like a sucker fish, drawn to the ripples and rotation of the water. Every fisherman feels his heart getting lighter and lighter as he eases closer to the water. That urge comes over him to dip his head under the surface and take in a breath of fresh water. Then come back up in the unbreathable air to look along that glassy finish where any spot could harbor the next best thing. For we can only dream to live under the surface like the creatures our hearts sought after. When we close our eyes we imagine hiding under a log, beside a boulder, within the weeds and in the deep. We can hear every bug, every little plant that hits the water, every breeze that skims the surface faking us out. We aren’t just fishermen, my friends. We are the fish we seek. We are the game we hope to brag to our friends about. We are the chase, the rush, the adventure in all that is fishing.

Ah, it’s good to be back! And if you thought that opener was good just wait for the real news! We have discovered a new victim. Yes, the addiction has taken the life of a new man we recently met. It lured him when he was just a wee thing playing on the banks of the Kankakee river alongside his trusty Australian Shepherd, Duke. A big fish in a small pond with the artists’ touch, an engineer’s mind, and a poet’s heart. And that’s just his dog. AC found him, this water wanderer, floating along the Kankakee in an apprentice’s raft with a bandana wrapped around his skull like Springsteen sucking back Oban and puffin on a hefty cigar. Ah, a true ‘merican! Of course, once AC got past the muscles, curelean blue eyes with that suave Errol Flynn ebrow and boyish east coast dreads, she noticed his rod. Oh please, get your heads out of the gutters people. We’re talking about his 7ft, mustang red, medium to fast action Lews casting rod tipped with the sexiest chartreuse spinner bait with a red and black spoon as the cherry on top. Damn! Nothing sexier than a man and his rod. Please girls, relax! It’s just fishing. Wait, what are we saying. It’s just fishing? Obviously this man has a problem. He needs help. Doesn’t he know it’s spawning season and Illinois barely ranks near Wisconsin and Michigan on smallie numbers and size? Of course he knows. But, it doesn’t matter. He’d fish a bathtub if he… And so we found him. A man after our own hearts and AC after his. It wasn’t long till AC inducted him into the Riverbums Tacklebox of fame as they ventured just 3 weeks into April to Michigan to fish for trout. 3 rivers in one day, St Josephs, Paw Paw and the Black river. With just a few hits and one smallie it was an unsuccessful trip in realm of numbers. But one of epic proportion, for the season was just starting…

The Newest Riverbum

The Newest Riverbum






AC’s Bass


2 out of 3

2 out of 3


Until next time, we’ll see ya on the other side of the river…

Cast Away,

The Riverbums

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