I remember a day, many years ago, when a day's events indelibly forged memories I will always cherish. The day began while my dad and I were on one of our “special day” camping trips along the Kern River. The campsite was at a particularly swift and deep part of the river, but was well known for the excellent fishing. We had fished here several times before but this was the first time my dad and I had camped overnight.
As long as I can remember, my dad would take each of us kids out for one of these “special days." He would take a week of vacation and spend a full day with each of us; we did this every year. Usually these special days would be in the first week after school let out so we wouldn’t have to worry about homework or getting to bed at any certain time. We would spend the entire day, doing what ever came to mind, but it had to be fun and it had to be limited to just my dad and which ever of us he happened to be with on that particular day. There were five of us kids so my dad got to do quite a variety of things during that week, and I just imagine he was pretty tired and needing another restful week after we all got through with our active days. We would do things like shopping, going to the theater, playing golf, eating at restaurants, going to theme parks, going to zoos and museums, but one of my favorite activities was camping and fishing down at “The Ole Catfish Hole.” These were fun days we all enjoyed but this one particular “special day” was very special and unique.
Our special day that year, actually started the afternoon before. My dad and I had talked and decided our day would be a fishing and camping day. We began by gathering our tent, sleeping bags, fishing equipment and the other stuff we thought we would need. We loaded everything in the back of the four-by-four pickup and headed up the curvy road of the canyon. I was anxious to get there and my thoughts were filled with visions of catching big fish and spending this special time with my dad.
The very steep and scary drive from the canyon road down to the river was part of what made this place so exciting. Each time we went down, I always wondered how in the world we would ever get back up that crazy path, but somehow we always managed.
By the time we made it down to the river, the sun had dipped behind the mountains on the western ridge of the canyon. We still had enough daylight left to setup the tent, spread the sleeping bags, gather some firewood and fix some dinner. Even though I was only 10, I did my part and dad usually made me feel as though I had done a good job. After dinner, we had some hot chocolate and set up the lantern so we could fish a little after dark. We managed to get all stinky from the fish bait, but nothing was biting that night. The only action was an occasional bat that would swoop down through the trees and bump into our fishing lines.
Time passed quickly that evening as we sat together on the riverbank, waiting and hoping for the giant catfish to get hungry. Finally, with the chilly breeze meandering down the canyon, it was time to slide into the sleeping bag and try to sleep a while.
I woke the next morning to the sounds and smells of bacon frying in the pan just a few feet away from the tent. Dad was already up and starting breakfast; I wanted to get up but the warmth of the sleeping bag was holding me captive. A few minutes later when I heard the sounds of breaking twigs and dried limbs, I knew there would soon be a warm campfire going and that was enough to pry me out of the bag. I still had my clothes on and only had to put my shoes on and I would be ready for the day. I got out of the tent, slid my arms into the sleeves of my coat and watched for a moment as the new blaze in the fire pit began to dance. The air was fresh and cool and the smells of the morning made this seem like a perfect beginning to the day.
Dad said, “Go ahead and check the fishing lines. Maybe we caught something during the night.” We had left our poles propped with the bait still in the river, hoping something might come along during the night so fresh fish could be part of the breakfast menu. I yawned, stretched and stumbled down the slope. I found the poles where we had left them and I reeled in the lines, finding the bait was missing from both. That made me think we had gotten a bite and that made me feel good about the possibilities ahead. The water was cold though and with the smell of breakfast and wanting to get near the campfire, I headed back up to camp.
“No fish, Dad,” I said as I warmed my hands over the flames. "Maybe later,” he answered as he finished the eggs and fried potatoes. I was hungry too, but just as excited to get back to fishing and some hiking after the breakfast clean up was done.
Breakfast was really good, even though there seemed to be a little grit in with the potatoes, but that didn’t bother me. The smoke from the fire got in my eyes too from time to time and although it made my eyes sting and tear up, I didn’t mind that so much either. We took the things that needed to be cleaned down to the river, washed them, then took them back up to the camp stove and covered the things with a towel to keep them clean. We straightened up the camp area, gathered some firewood which we would be using later, then sat by the still burning fire for a little while. With the sun beginning to spill into the canyon, it was just about warm enough to shed our jackets.
As we put out the remains of the fire, I noticed some lizards and a squirrel which were about their day's activities and I was ready for what ever the day would bring, or so I thought.
Dad took me up to a clearing, not far from where our camp was. He showed me his compass and we made a game of laying out a course to follow that would take us back to camp. I learned a lot that morning about how a compass works and how to use it but still had much to learn. Then we took off, following a path which lead us along the river bank. Dad pointed out some plants to stay away from and I was hoping I could remember what they looked like later. Then we worked our way back to camp, checking and comparing the compass as we explored back down the river toward camp. By the time we made it back to camp I was ready for a snack, so we dug out the granola bars we brought and that did the trick. When I asked what time it was, Dad got his compass out again and with a stick he picked up from the ground, he showed me how to get a good idea of what time it was. That was interesting but I was ready to quit the compass thing and get back to the fishing.
We made our way back down to the river and put some fresh bait on our hooks. Dad cast his line, propped his pole and then helped me do the same. We sat quietly, watching the river move by, but soon I got bored. I reeled in my line and then cast it back out in the river again. The sinker and hook didn’t quite go where I was hoping but at least it hit the water so I figured that was good enough. I looked over at Dad and he was just smiling, but never said a word.
Time passed without any bites and the sun was now warming my back. Dad was a very patient fisherman but I wanted something to happen. I reeled in my line and went across a rocky slab that separated my spot from where Dad was sitting. I put on another clam for fresh bait and then told dad I was going to go upriver to find another place to try. Dad wasn’t too excited about being separated but I assured him I would be careful and would stay just on the other side of a large rock which sharply jutted out of the river’s edge and rose about 10 feet above the surface of the water. Dad pointed out the best way over the large rock and I was feeling the excitement of dad’s confidence in me.
I followed Dad’s direction, slipping some as I climbed the large rock but managed to get past the tree that grew beside and overhung the top. I moved down the far side moving around the other boulders which framed the riverbank. I couldn’t see where my dad was and so I knew he couldn’t see me either and this little bit of trusted freedom was exciting and good for me. I carefully moved around the rocks, then cast my bait into the river. I reeled the line back in and cast out again in a different spot and then waited, thinking how great it was to be here and how much better it would be if I could catch the first fish. I smiled to myself as I thought about catching a big one and showing it to dad.
The sun felt good as it warmed me. The rocks were still very cool and seemed to draw the heat out of my small body but even with the occasional shiver, I was where I wanted to be.
All at once, wham, I got a bite. I was excited but not prepared and when I jerked the pole to set the hook, I was too late and missed catching what ever it was. I waited for a few moments but nothing more happened. I slowly reeled in and found what I thought I’d find. My bait was gone. That darn fish had stolen my bait! Then I remembered where the bait was. I’d have to climb out of these boulders where I was, back over the top of the big rock and back to where dad was. I was chewing myself out for not bringing some extra clams with me as I worked my way back up the large rock. Finally at the top, I could see my dad and as I started down his side, the tip of my fishing pole got caught in the leafy tree limbs which hung over the rock. I jerked and wiggled and jerked again and then stepped to the side a little to free the pole tip and slipped. Down I went, skidding down the steep sloping rock, heading helplessly down into the river. I didn’t even have time to yell for help. The pole was yanked from my hand as I fell and then with the shock of the cold water, I splashed into the deep pool.
The summer before, we had set up a three foot deep swimming pool in the back yard. Dad had worked with me and the other kids to learn how to swim and float. All I could remember from the summer training was that I needed to kick my feet and move my hands to keep my head above water. Luckily, my glasses stayed on and I could see but the fall and cold water robbed my ability to yell for help. I turned my head, looking in dad’s direction and saw him stand and move in my direction. I could tell he was saying something but I couldn’t hear more than the roar of the river and the beating of my heart in my ears. The river was pulling me out into the rapids and away from the safety of the bank.
The moments that followed my fall into the river seemed like hours and as the cold stiffened my legs, I slipped lower and lower into the water until my chin and mouth were being splashed from the increasingly rough water. I looked at my dad one last time to see him dive into the river right toward me. I felt the river splash at my nose and I thought for sure I was going to drown.
Just as I closed my eyes, I felt my dad’s large hands grab me around the waist and lift me out of the water just as I gasped for breath. Somehow, he got behind me and while holding me up so I could breathe, he managed to move us both to the rocks where I had been fishing. He pushed and helped me climb up the rocks and out of the water and climbed out of the water right behind me, staying between me and the water. I was so cold and wet that shivering took all my strength.
Dad said, “Are you ok?” and I nodded but still couldn’t say anything. We sat there on that rock, with the sun shining down, warming us as we just hugged each other there in our cold wet clothes. I don’t think I ever felt quite as loved as I did in my dad’s arms there at that moment.
Dad got up after a little while, helped me up and we climbed back up and over that same rock I had fallen off of. Shivering, Dad built a good hot fire in the fire pit and as we sat there together, warming up and drying off, we talked a little about some important things in life. We talked about the love we shared and the gratitude we felt to Heavenly Father for saving our lives and giving us another chance to do and to be good.
I learned a lot that day, and I’ll always remember it. The thing that will always shine in my memory is knowing that I was lost, and Dad risked his life to save me. Now I understand how Heavenly Father feels about me too.
