Hobart and Lake George

Hobart (pronounced "Hobert" unless you want to annoy the locals like my ex-husband) is another Lake County town of just over 25,000 sandwiched by Merrillville and Portage. Founded as a grist mill town in 1846 it has become a local hang-out for fishermen. Deep river flows north from this dammed lake and Candian geese and seagulls loiter on the undeveloped banks of this small water source.

My father would take me to Lake George for some fishing when I was in my single digits, which meant that I sat on a cement wall near the spill-over dam while he fished in solitude elsewhere. I never cared for fishing because it meant I had to sit quietly, but when I did catch a small sunfish one time, I was happy and proud...until the sunfish died that night in the water sink we had placed it in.

I came to this lake since I didn't have time to go on a long hike as my veterinarian appointment was slated for 3:30pm and my 20-year-old son Eric (he lives nearby with his father)  didn't even get up until 10am. We drove off for his place at 11am, leaving me with just three hours to explore. That left me Hobart, the small town between Chesterton and Crown Point that I hadn't been to yet on this trip.

The ped trail along the north shore of Lake George isn't very long and mostly used by fishermen (and apparently drinking fishermen as there were a lot of beer cans along the shore), but it was something to do with Sadie. She sniffed the scents she found along the trail, got excited over the geese and then lumbered off when I pushed her away from the fowl.

The town itself isn't very large but Main Street is nice, with a variety of bars, two diners, a coffee shop and several shops to entertain passers-by. I stopped in one Paws, a pet supply shop that donates to disabled children and to the Hobart animal shelter, and talked briefly with the shop owner Judy who invited me to walk with her around the lake tomorrow. Dogs were allowed in the store. Sadie picked out a rawhide wrap.

I never went to Hobart much as a kid, mostly just with my dad to fish, followed by a visit to the town's Dairy Queen. My dad loved his ice cream. When I asked Judy where the quickest route back to US Highway 30 was and she said "Take a right at the transmission place" I knew instantly where that intersection was and needed no further directions. IN51 travels north-south through town and crosses US30 a few miles from the town's center.

I made it back to Carol's place by 2pm as the weather started to warm up, almost too fast too soon. It was no surprise then that less than an hour later heavy storms blew in from the Northwest and dumped another .24" in the area.