by John Kruse, February 06, 2006

"…All good things – trout as well as eternal salvation – come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy."

Norman Maclean – A River Runs Through It

The announcement at the beginning of the church service was the last thing I expected to hear:

"I’m sorry to tell you that Claude Ponting, the former pastor, passed away early this morning."

I looked ahead in disbelief as a loud murmur rose up from the parishioners in the pews. The news didn’t seem right, but with Claude missing from his customary place in the church choir I slowly accepted the cold truth of the matter. My heart went out towards his wife and family. I also felt selfishly sad that we would not be taking our promised trip to go steelhead fishing on the Methow River.

I met Claude when I was a young "Elder" for our Presbyterian Church and he came in as our interim pastor. But I really got to know him better as a fisherman and friend when we both started attending a small church across the river after his retirement. Claude was there with his wife so he would not take away from the new pastor’s leadership at our old church. I was there because my wife had grown up in the small church and wanted to worship where her mother still did on Sundays. Claude and I would talk about steelhead fishing after services. He would talk about fishing for them with his son, and I would tell stories of casting for them with my father. Claude was passionate about the subject and it was easy to understand why.

Steelhead are big ocean going rainbow trout. In Eastern Washington, they are summer run fish that show up in our rivers in September and stick around until March when they spawn. They are hard hitting – high jumping – silver fish with olive green backs and a pink hued slash down their side. A typical summer run weighs around six pounds, but ten to seventeen pound leader-busting trophies are not uncommon.

The Methow River is located in North Central Washington. Being far away from major population centers it does not get a lot of pressure. It’s a small stream, almost small enough to cast across. It features innumerable good pools and runs holding steelhead, cutthroat trout and Chinook salmon. It’s a river with close up scenery of apple orchards, sagebrush, the occasional pine and basalt cliffs set against the backdrop of the Cascade Mountains. In the fall cottonwood trees add a beautiful yellow canvas above the stream, while in winter white snow coats the hills and shoreline.

We had fished the river separately a number of times over the years. We finally managed to get together, along with a couple of other friends, for a day on the water last February. It was a beautiful day in that the sun was shining and warm enough to let you know spring was just around the corner. The water was running clear and at a good level, but in a full day of fishing Claude was the only one to briefly hook a steelhead.

Despite that, it was a great trip. We showed each other our favorite holes and a week later Claude reported he had gone to my favorite one and hooked multiple steelhead; landing more than his share of fish in the process. I e-mailed back things one should perhaps not say to a pastor – but words that are okay to say to a friend.

We planned to go again this year. Unfortunately, a cold winter, followed by unseasonably wet weather, delayed our trip several times over. Claude was also distracted by the new home he was building. It was getting close to completion, but behind schedule of where he hoped it would be. However, the two of us agreed that no matter what happened, we were going to fish the Methow again before March.

We never did make that trip. Part of me thinks it unfair that Claude died in his sleep. He was only in his mid-60s and seemed to be both fit and healthy. He had just retired after years of faithfully serving the Lord and was just getting ready to move into a "dream home" with his wife. However, another part of me realizes that Claude, having done his service for God, has been called to a much larger home. I understand that he is with the angels and the happiness he enjoyed here on earth cannot compare to the joy he must be experiencing now in God’s presence.


Still, I will miss him. And I will miss fishing with him on the Methow this year. If I could talk to him I‘d ask him how the fishing is up there. I know it is theologically unsound, but I have to assume you can fish in Heaven and that the fishing is pretty good.

I suspect the stream that trout fishermen cast their lines into up there is somewhat like the Methow. The kind of stream that runs clear and consists of one long run or pool after another; each of them holding big hard fighting fish. I bet the lighting is soft, the temperature’s comfortable, the colors of nature are vibrant, and that the sound of the river is a comforting song. I’d imagine the water feels good against your legs as you wade into the river. Ospreys soar overhead and occasionally dive into the river, fishing with you. Deer will graze unconcerned in meadows across the stream from you, and your favorite dog will be sitting on the bank behind you with his tail wagging.

I’m guessing you don’t hook a steelhead every cast – and I ‘m sure Claude wouldn’t want it that way. I believe you have to work for your fish. I bet you have to make the right cast, give the right presentation, and only then will a steelhead grace you with his presence. I don’t think they magically jump in the net either. I’m sure they explode from the river, shaking and twisting in the air far higher than I’ve ever seen in this earthly realm. I bet they like to throw the hook too. And when they do, you find your own fingers shaking as you smile and retie your leader in the aftermath of the experience.

I’m also sure you get to fish with your friends. I’m sad I won’t get to fish the Methow River again with Claude. But I know that sooner or later, the two of us will cast for steelhead again on a river much like the Methow but even more beautiful. I’m looking forward to that day. I know it’s going to be a great day on the water.



In loving memory of Pastor Claude.