Blame it on the rain

Recent widespread heavy rains have washed away all but the memories of Iowa’s longest drought.

After 204 straight weeks of drought somewhere in the state — and four straight years of mostly sparkling clear and highly accessible rivers and streams — the flood tide has returned.

KWWL Chief Meteorologist Mark Schnackenberg reports that the past two months were the wettest May and June on record — 17.28 inches of rain in Waterloo, with the northern two tiers of counties at or above that level.

As I write this on Wednesday, many Iowa rivers are at or above flood stage, and the rest are too high, swift and muddy for safe and enjoyable recreation.

Though the recently ended drought seemed interminable, it was to me preferable to the 21st century Iowa climate default setting of excessive precipitation.

Cedar Rapids residents will never forget the epic Cedar River flood crest of 31.12 feet on June 13, 2008. Nine of the top 10 Wapsipinicon River floods at Anamosa happened in a 14-year period from 2004 to 2017. The wettest two-year stretch in the 152 years that Iowa has recorded weather data occurred in the 24 months of 2018 and 2019.

But even in all those wet years, we often have a hot, dry spell that starts in July or August and continues well into the fall or winter. I look forward to the next one to see how the floodwaters, absent the past four years, have rearranged the river.

The river will have relocated untold tons of sand, which can be both good and bad. It will have scoured holes that, during the previous flood-free four years, had filled with sand, displacing much of the prime gamefish habitat. It will also have created sandbar drop-offs, beneath which gamefish will lurk, awaiting their next meal to drift helplessly past their open mouths.

Those same sandbar drop-offs, until their precise locations have been pinpointed, hold unpleasant surprises for wading anglers, who will become swimming anglers when they step off the edge.

Floodwaters will have also repositioned sodden logs and stumps to spots where they can trip an unsuspecting wader.

Fresh sand and silt deposits, while not quite technically quicksand, will present danger zones. Unfortunately they are seldom recognizable until one’s feet have sunk into the suctioning muck almost too far for extraction.

Unless you have a friend for support, the only way out is to balance on one foot while you lift the other — an Olympian gymnastics feat for an old guy who has to lean on his dresser to put on his pants.

The floods will eventually subside. The Dude was right when in “The Big Lebowski” he said, “This aggression will not stand, man.” When the water goes down, the fish will still be there, and so will I, eager to relearn their haunts.