Forces of Nature
Force of Nature
By Steven Calaway Brown
I heard a whistle carry across the flats, glanced over my shoulder to see Noah with his fist in the air, meant only one thing, he’d hooked another forbidden permit at Faraway Cayes base camp while clients were out with guides.
Forbidden because Rankin asked Noah to lay off the local flat. Understandable request unless you know Noah. Asking Noah not to fish permit while left at Faraway base is like bringing my toddlers to a toy store and telling them to sit down and touch nothing. Not going to happen.
Ship sailed anyway with Noah’s line screaming into the distance. I ran slow-motion through chest-deep water to reach Noah, core tribe member who’s job is world-class angler, co-managing the Faraway Cayes.
Closing the gap in slow motion, time opens up and memories flood the tide. . .waking up in the desert with 20 snakes writhing on me, 8 year old Noah giggling away. Dad reprimanding him for climbing a boulder at camp, minutes later he’s waving from top of the gorge, over a thousand feet up. Noah was out-fishing clients and most guides by 9 years old. 3-day Black Canyon trip with Noah went like this:
Day 1: Other anglers think its cool the little kid is stoked on fishing, hopes he catches a fish.
Day 2: Revelation that Noah is catching all the big fish and will continue to catch more than anyone else.
Day 3: They descend into an all-time low of threatening to drown Noah if he gets near their boat.
Teaching Noah humility at 9 years-old was humbling in itself.
I’m still a ways from Noah, pushing through water into the memory of a prolific stonefly hatch in the Black Canyon, legendary dry fly fishing, and Noah would only fish streamers. By 13 his trout fishing evolved to exclusively casting huge wieghted baitfish. Predator hunting predators. He cared less about big rainbows making splash marks on granite walls, he wanted the 1 fish that would eat those fish.
I pushed through water trying to close the gap in time for photos of a brilliant permit I could see shining from 100 yards, a great fish, I still had time . . . to remember his first permit, even though I never saw it, only Hans the old German saw it, verified to me, then took it to the grave. He woke up before sunrise, waded to the German Caye, stuck his first permit on a fly all by his 13 year old self, and woke me up with the news. Noah was our first student in Guanaja, which led to hundreds more with Fish for Change.
Like permit, Noah sees the world with a wider lens. A wider perception propels a sense of wonder many are born with, yet most grow out of. Noah’s sense of wonder and perception expand every time he steps into the wild.
I finally catch up to the moment.
Noah’s 20th permit races across white sand, moments from being landed. Sun rays beam down and electrify Caribbean colors to their vivd max. White sand, blue sky, and every shade in between. Noah grabs the triumphant tail and water explodes in crystallized shards. The fish is pearly white bright like nothing we’ve seen, an illumination of white re-defined, and soft to the degree of almost not existing, like a mirage.
Unquantifiable, big, and memorable enough to cherish. Another human story with fish swimming through. This story is fishier because Noah is a fish too. Watching him grow is a highlight of a long guide career winding down many rivers that led to the Caribbean Sea.
Most clients caught permit that day, some on Noah’s custom flies too secret to talk about. Noah’s fish brought the lodge to a remarkable round number of permit landed in the first two weeks of the Faraway Cayes. Celebration in the middle of nowhere. Even Rankin was happy with the nice round number.
