Fly Fishing

My husband and I had never been fly fishing, and we wanted to try something new. We read a little on the Internet, talked to a few people, booked the adventure, and packed what made sense to us: our fishing hats and shirts and water shoes.

We were celebrating our 36^th wedding anniversary with a trip to the Grand Canyon and Sedona, Arizona, and we were excited about this new adventure!

When the day arrived, our fly fishing guide picked us up from the place where we were staying in Sedona, and then he drove us some distance away to a place we’d never been before. 

He knew where he was going. He had gone before us. Many times.

He brought everything we needed. All the equipment. None of it was ours. The bait, the tackle box, the poles, and bottles of water.

And once we arrived, he gave us waterproof waders for our feet and showed us how to put them on, making sure we laced correctly. Then he handed us a trekking pole and told us to follow him.

He carried all the equipment. Even when we tried to take some of it from him, he insisted on carrying it for us.

And so we began our trek down to Oak Creek.

 

It wasn’t easy even though he was carrying all the heavy stuff. We still had to work at it. We’re in our 60’s, for crying out loud!

But we followed closely behind him.

We thought we were keeping up; he was simply making sure he was walking at the right pace for us.

I kept saying to Ian, “No falling! No falling!” I think our fishing guide grinned at that. I think he knew there was always the possibility we might fall even if we were careful!

 

But we hiked and climbed and crawled over boulders and weeds and stumps as we followed him.

He paused for us to rest along the way. We didn’t have to ask him to; he just did. He seemed to know when we needed to stop. It was hot. The path was rocky and steep. He reminded us to hydrate even if we didn’t think we needed to drink any water.

The view around us and above us was as spectacular as the one before us -- the red rocks of Sedona! We kept reminding each other to look up and look around so we wouldn’t miss one moment of the grandeur of God’s world.

 

 And then we arrived at our destination – this gorgeous running water called Oak Creek.

There was no one else around.

And that’s where he began to teach us.  

Wading out to a spot in the creek, he beckoned us to follow. To step like he stepped, carefully sliding our feet across the slippery creek bottom and then planting our feet firmly, making sure we were standing on a solid rock. Then he demonstrated how to hold the fishing pole and cast the line.

 

He let us use his equipment even if we were not at all confident in our ability to do so.

He stayed by our side and watched us closely, always ready to help.

He let us mess up. Several times I got the line stuck in a tree. “Oops! Help please!”

He was patient with us. And he knew how to wait patiently. Lots of standing and casting and waiting and wondering in fishing.

And then I experienced the thrill of that first nibble! Oh wow! I couldn’t stand it! I got so excited, I forgot what to do! “There it goes,” I pointed, as I watched the fish swim away. But how thrilling it was to feel that tug on the line, to know the fish were there, swimming around where we were standing in the water.

We kept trying.

But after a while, our guide wanted more for us. He wanted us to experience more than the thrill of that first nibble.

I liked it where I was! I had gotten used to this one spot. To me, it was a perfectly delightful, peaceful place. I got a nibble, for crying out loud! But our guide decided it was time to move, so we followed him to a different place that was even more difficult to get to. And once more I walked a path I never would have walked by myself.  

It was a difficult path, but we trusted him now even more than when we first started. We knew that he knew where he was going. So we followed -- climbing and crawling and stopping and resting a little -- to the place where he wanted to take us.

 

“Go right there!” he told me, pointing to a place I couldn’t see beyond the rocks, an area overgrown with weeds and thick with bushy trees. “Are you kidding me?” I thought. And when I hesitated, he stepped in and went before me and showed me that it was okay.

 

 

Stepping where he stepped, I followed him into the water where he showed me the best place to stand. I wasn’t too sure at first, and he seemed to sense that. But when he saw that I was all right, he took Ian to find the best spot for him to stand and fish.

 

Sometimes I couldn’t see our guide, but I knew he was there, keeping an eye on me. It was odd. I’m a concrete kind of water girl. I prefer a cement bottom with a filter system. But I felt safe in this place that I never would have gone by myself. 

And then it happened! The excitement up the creek was contagious. My husband had caught a fish! The explosion in my heart as I realized what had happened was the same joy as if it had been me! This experience was ours together. It didn’t matter to us who caught the fish, just that we had done it together! What a celebration!

And our guide never stopped helping us, wading into the creek with the net and scooping up the fish before it could get away.

What a thrill!

What a moment!

What a memory!

Taking one last picture, we eventually had to leave.

  

I think I’ll call this picture, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”

And thank you, Lord, that you are with us wherever we are, teaching us and guiding us and showing us the paths you would have us to go. Amen.

 “Show me your ways, LORD, teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me,

for you are God my Savior,

and my hope is in you

all day long”

(Psalm 25:4-5 NIV).