Rising Waters

My Lessons Learned Through the March 2026 Flooding

Flooding is one of those hazards that people think they understand until it happens in real time. We all know the messaging: Turn Around, Don’t Drown. We know water covers roads, creeks rise, and low-lying areas become dangerous quickly. But experiencing a prolonged flooding event as an emergency manager is different than reading about one, and the early March flooding in Bartholomew County (March 4 through March 7, 2026) reinforced just how complex, unpredictable, and human these events really are.

As emergency managers, we spend a lot of time reading forecasts, monitoring rainfall totals, and watching river gauge projections. In the days leading up to the event, we had plenty of information like rainfall forecasts, flood outlooks, model guidance, and messaging directly from the National Weather Service. On paper, we knew what could happen. As the rain began to fall and the totals climbed, it became clear that flooding isn’t just about the amount of rain. It’s about timing, saturation, drainage, creek response, and how each part of the county handles water differently. It’s one thing to see a projected rainfall range. It’s another to watch that forecast translate into closed roads, rising waterlines, and residents calling for help.

One of the most striking parts of this event was how uneven the impacts were. In some areas, water rose quickly and spilled into roadways. In others, conditions remained manageable longer than expected. A county can be under the same rainfall event, but the flooding story can look completely different depending on terrain, creek systems, infrastructure, and prior conditions.

Something we noticed happening repeatedly: flood waters rising, roads closed, barricades placed, and people still driving into high water. Some vehicles stalled. Some people became stranded and needed help. Some were abandoned. This is one of the hardest realities to accept as an emergency manager. We can push messaging early. We can warn people repeatedly. We can post maps, reminders, and updates. But when people are faced with a flooded roadway, many still convince themselves they can make it through.

Sometimes it’s impatience. Sometimes it’s familiarity with the road. Sometimes it’s panic. And sometimes it’s simply not understanding how powerful moving water really is.

Flood events create uncertainty in a way that severe storms sometimes don’t. Tornado warnings are intense but brief. Flooding has a reputation for being gradual. And sometimes it is. But this event showed how quickly things can escalate. A creek that looks manageable at noon can be out of its banks by late afternoon. A roadway that looks “a little wet” can become impassable in an hour. It creates a prolonged sense of unease. People watch water creep closer and closer and feel powerless to stop it. It reminded me that part of our job is not just managing the hazard, but managing the anxiety that comes with it.

During this event, road closures weren’t a one-time task. They were constant. Water levels changed throughout the day and night. Some roads became passable again, while others worsened or had deteriorated from the flood waters. Every closure required verification, coordination, and communication. And once roads start closing, the ripple effects are immediate. Detours grow longer. Response times change. People get rerouted into other flooded areas. Drivers unfamiliar with back roads get lost. Businesses are impacted. First responders have to adapt. Flooding quickly becomes more than just a weather event, it becomes an infrastructure and logistics problem.

The March flooding was a stark reminder that emergency management isn’t about the urgent, dramatic moments. It’s about staying steady through evolving conditions. It’s about paying attention to small changes before they become big problems. It’s about coordinating with partners, tracking dozens of moving pieces, and communicating clearly when the public is stressed and looking for answers.

Most of all, it reinforced that floods are one of the most underestimated hazards we face. Not because they are rare, but because they feel familiar. People don’t fear rain. They don’t fear puddles. They don’t fear a creek until it’s in their yard. But flooding doesn’t care if you’re used to the road. It doesn’t care if you’ve driven through here before.

And as emergency managers, our job is to help our communities take risks seriously before that moment ever arrives.