Pastor's Corner

A Dark Valley

I grew up fishing streams in the North Cascades. There is something about having grown up doing a particular activity that magnifies self-confidence. On one occasion it was over-confidence. It’s happened more than just this once, but this is the one that I’m admitting to now.

At the time my schedule pretty much excluded fishing trips and I was starting to look longingly at any bit of water near the road. It was then that I researched the fishing opportunities on the Clear Fork of the Cowlitz on White Pass. It was secluded enough to have fish, but the maps still showed what appeared to be an achievable hike.

I left early, crossed the pass, stopped at the Palisades, and dropped off the side of the mountain to get my fix. In three or four hours there would be fresh trout.

The valley is narrow and the river can be heard from the road. At noon I started down, and only 200 yards later I slipped into the shadows and caught my last glimpse of the sun. Down the hillside I slipped, though a patch of nettles and from the downed tree that helped me get out of them. 250 yards from the top I knew that I couldn’t return the way I’d come.

About 2 hours later the water was in sight. I momentarily put aside the need to find a way out, and wet my line. It was glorious fishing. There were fish down in this water, mostly because of the vertical drop. They weren’t legal to keep, (so I didn’t) but they were there.

By 3:30 it started to look like dusk, concern for an appropriate exit in the little available light overtook my desire to fish. I began to hear my father’s advice echoing in my mind. “Go down stream. Sooner or later you’ll find a way out.”

His advice worked. It was not long until I found the small creek that the map showed crossing the highway not far below my drop point. After three hours of climbing, a bad fall that took ten minutes to recover from, and more scrambling, I finally found the highway.

A day of fishing in the mountains can be a wonderful thing. However, I had been in an unfamiliar valley alone. Not generally a smart move. It was a mistake that exacted its toll with no one to blame but myself.

Through the years, I have been in many dark valleys, though most of them were not for the love of fishing. Just as my father’s advice helped me stay calm and eventually come through that day, God has always brought me through those other desperate moments. The Bible promises in Psalm 46:1-3 that “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth should change, and though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains quake at its swelling pride.” Remember God’s word and let it calm you in your dark valleys.

Dave McCue,

pastror

United Methodist Church,

Colflax & St. John