A Miraculous Catch

Once, in the middle of a Canadian walleye fishing trip, we had just finished the day’s shore lunch. We left the bank of the rocky island in the middle of a secluded, Canadian lake in our boat around 2:00 in the afternoon, with the intention of fishing till about 5:00. 

“Where should we go this afternoon?” we asked our guide Steve, a Canadian by birth and former professional hockey player. 

“I know a spot,” he said. “It’s a bit of a ride, and I haven’t fished it much, but there’s a possibility it could produce.”  He had no idea how true his words would turn out to be. 

The lake we were fishing in Ontario that day wasn’t necessarily remote or secluded, but simply so big as to remain mostly untouched.  It didn’t hurt that the Canadian government owned 80% of the shoreline, meaning there were hardly any private cabins or lodges on the lake.  Furthermore, the lake was absolutely gigantic, so there were plenty of spots to fish. 

I was fishing that day with our aforementioned guide, Steve, as well as two friends.  The four of us took the boat ride that Steve had described to his secret spot.  All told, the boat ride took almost an hour.  During the ride to the spot, we saw no cabins on the shore, and only one or two other boats on the mammoth lake. 

We finally pulled in to the mythical spot before 3:00 and started to prepare our gear.  After a few minutes, the first line was in the water, and almost immediately we got bit.  The reel whined and pulled the first fish of the afternoon into the boat.  A 16-inch walleye.  Steve had told us not to expect big fish from this spot, and his warning proved true, at least in that first fish. 

Less than a minute later, the refrain of “Fish on!” sounded again, and another walleye came into the boat.  Then another. And another.  And another.  All of the fish we were catching were either in the slot or below.  The “slot” refers to a length of walleye that must be released, by law.  In this jurisdiction, the slot was 18-21 inches.  Any walleye caught in that window was required to be released.  Walleyes longer than 21 inches and shorter than 18 could be kept and consumed.  However, the rule of thumb is that the larger the walleye, the worse the eating.  When we fished for our food, we exclusively kept fish under 18 inches, unless all we could find were fish over 21. 

In Luke 5, Jesus calls his first disciples, one of whom was Peter.  Jesus tells Peter to put his boat out into the water and go fishing.  Peter initially balks at this notion for two reasons: 1) he had been fishing all night and hadn’t caught a thing, and 2) the daytime was decidedly not the time to catch fish.  If Jesus wanted to go fishing, he was too late.  And even then, Peter’s recent experience told him there were no fish to be caught.  But since the directive came from Jesus himself, Peter relented.  

If you’re familiar with the story, you know what happens next.  Jesus tells the fishermen to cast their net on the opposite side of the boat, which they do, and they catch so many fish that the net begins to break and the boat begins to sink.  In fact, they had to call other boats over in order to offload all of the fish they were catching.  They were filled with joy, wonder, and amazement at the sight.  Except for Peter.  He was terrified, because he had just seen a miracle, and he knew that the only one who could enact such a miracle was God himself.  It terrified him to be in the presence of God. 

That day on that lake in Ontario, we had our own version of that miracle, albeit probably to a lesser degree, as our boat was never in danger of sinking.  It seemed that every time we threw our lines into the water, they got bit within seconds.  We were catching fish, after, fish, after fish.  Sometimes two or three of us caught a fish at the same time, what we called a double or triple-header, depending.  Pretty soon we became so amazed at the volume of fish were catching that we started keeping count.  Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty fish had been in the boat.  Our guide, Steve, knew that something special was happening, so he threw his line out as well, which he usually didn’t do.  We started to add his fish to our total.  Eighty.  Ninety.  100, 110, 120, 130.  The number kept going up and up.  Like those disciples, we were filled with amazement and awe. 

It didn’t matter that the fish were on the smaller side.  It was an incredible experience to catch so many fish.  As this was a guided trip, it was typical for the guide to both bait the hooks of his clients, and to remove the fish that they caught.  But there was no time for that.  There was no possible way that Steve could have kept up with baiting our hooks and removing the fish.  That’s how quickly they were coming into the boat.  170, 180, 190, 200.  The count kept going up and up, and the fish were still biting. 

5:00 rolled around, our scheduled time to head back to the dock.  But none of us could leave.  It was impossible to forgo such an unprecedented bite.  210, 220, 230.  And more.  I don’t know exactly how many fish we caught that afternoon, but it was more than 230.  When 6:00 rolled around we decided to call it a day, as supper would be served soon back at the lodge, and we still had an hour-long boat ride in front of us.  But none of us wanted to leave. 

We were overcome by that experience.  None of us, including Steve, had ever encountered a bite like that before.  There was incredible joy when every fish came in.  Since that time, I have told that story to several people, as have my other two friends who were with me that day. Everyone who hears that story has never heard of a bite like that.  It made me think that I could identify, at least somewhat, with those who were on the boat with Jesus so long ago. 

We didn’t eat or keep a single fish and yet it was one of -- if not the most memorable -- fishing experiences of my life. Every one of those fish was entirely average.  There were no monsters in the group, no trophies.  None that you would write home about, or about which you’d tell a “fish story.”  And yet, the experience filled us with such joy.  Joy is one of the typical and natural responses when a person has an up-close encounter with God’s creation, and it is one of the reasons God has created animals, one of his intentions for them: to bring us joy.

Excerpt from "A Glorious Arrangement: Christian thoughts on hunting, fishing, and creation" by Joel Detlefsen