The Forgotten Fly Box

Mark 8:14

Frank and a group of friends from his fishing club are getting ready to make the trek to Slough Creek in Yellowstone National Park. Accessing the water involves a lengthy hike to the Third Meadow, where they decide to fish. It is roughly 6 miles from the trailhead, and they have secured a backcountry permit to spend the night. It promises to be the trip of a lifetime. Frank is excited by the prospects of catching native Yellowstone Cutthroat. These fish are typically 14-18 inches, but trophy-sized fish over 20 inches are common there.

The Third Meadow is a highly technical fishing spot. It is a classic “match the hatch” and “stalking” experience.

Five miles in, the group takes a rest break. The high altitude makes Frank feel like he is sucking oxygen from a straw. His brain tells him to breathe faster and deeper to compensate for the lower oxygen concentration. Frank feels like he has to work hard for every breath, so the break is a welcome one.

The group decides to rig up now rather than wait until reaching the water. That way, they will be able to start fishing immediately upon reaching the creek.

That is when the group discovers the primary fly box, the one with all the PMD patterns, has been left behind. Among the four anglers, the only flies are a handful of mismatched dries, scuds, and nymphs. With the realization they may not have what these extremely wary trout will hit, panic sets in. The fly shop had told them that without PMDs, there was no way they could catch the finicky Yellowstone Cutthroats.

Frank sees his colleagues’ disappointed looks about being ill-equipped for the trip. They stand defeated with slumped shoulders. The earlier look of eager anticipation is replaced by a dull, glassy-eyed resignation.

Frank says in a quiet voice, “Keep your eyes on the prize. Don’t be misled by the fly shop recommendations. Our trip will not be defined by our gear. Set aside your pride and let’s press on. We are still going to have an amazing experience.”

The group finishes rigging their rods. Foam ants or a beetle are used for the top fly, and either a zebra midge or a small prince nymph for the dropper. Everyone is set, but only Frank is confident.

As they reach the creek, rather than fishing, the group starts complaining. “Frank is only saying this setup will work because we left the fly box with the PMDs the shop sold us behind. We don’t have the right flies to catch anything today.”

Frank overhears their skepticism and finds it ironic that they stand on the banks of an iconic trout stream yet are paralyzed by disappointment and self-doubt. They have turned a once-in-a-lifetime experience into a crisis over equipment. The grumbling spreads quickly through the group, setting a heavy tone that, like yeast in dough, grows until it consumes their entire perspective.

Frank stops casting, frustrated by the pervasive negativity in the group, and says to them, “Why are you obsessed with a forgotten fly box? Do you not understand how lucky we are to be here?” He gestures to the water and says, “Open your heart and mind to the wonder around you. Fishermen have been catching trout in this water on simple flies, in ways that have nothing to do with their cleverness or preparation.”

Slowly, Frank’s friends realize that the “right” flies were never the point, and their attitude could very likely ruin the day. They are so obsessed with the lack of PMDs that they have stopped noticing and appreciating the nature around them. With new eyes, they notice the sunlight glistening off the clear, slow-moving water and the way Slough Creek meanders through the meadow.

The fishing is tough, but each angler catches at least one Yellowstone Cutthroat. None are trophy fish, but each is well-earned. As the sun starts to set, stories about the trout that were caught and the trophies lost are told by the campfire. The smell of burning wood and the expansiveness of the starry night make the camaraderie of the trip evident to Frank. This is a trip he knows he will remember for a very long time.

Self-Reflection: What immediate, material worry or distraction is currently so loud in my life that it is preventing me from seeing the ways God has already been faithful in my past?