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Stuart Revercomb

Stuart Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.

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February 22, 2001

Fish of Grace : Broaddy's Fish

It had been a very difficult time.

My friend Broaddus Fitzpatrick had just lost his father, Judge Beverly Fitzpatrick, to cancer and though much of the grieving had begun at the time of his diagnosis many months before, there was still a long, long way to go.

The Judge was - is a remarkable man. (See The Judge 9/21/00). I can say that because I imagine his legacy will be carried on long after most of us have departed this world. He was part judicial entrepreneur, part mechanical engineer, part spontaneous comedian and always a dedicated father and restorer of lives. He was a friend to everyone he met, and if he had any enemies, (though I suspect he didn't), I imagine they would have told you, that in spite of the issue between them, he was still a pretty darn good guy.

Judge Fitzpatrick passed away on Saturday September 16th while my family and I were out of town. When I arrived at the funeral home late Sunday night there was a still a long line of people that extended out of the Chapel and halfway down the block. They had been coming for over 4 hours and there was no indication of it letting up anytime soon. The Judge had touched more lives than even the family had known.

When I finally reached the front of the line an hour later there were still several people behind me, and there was little time to speak. We exchanged hugs, and typical of the Fitzpatrick family there was a feeling from all of them that the hug was given more than it was received - a hug of assurance and thanks to those who had come. I was grateful for both.

As I was leaving, Broaddus leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Lets go fishing."

"Thursday", I said.

"See ya then", came the reply.

Broaddy had a steady, solid look in his eye. He had been grieving for months, and I suspect he realized he needed a quiet moment away. His passion outside of his family is fishing and I knew that maybe a day on the water could provide some healing and perspective that might not come as quickly otherwise. I was honored he wanted to go with me.

Unfortunately the forecast for Thursday didn't look so good - there was an 80 percent chance of showers and thunderstorms and the temperature was supposed to drop. But as we departed that morning for my brother's farm on the Cow Pasture River in Bath County, the skies broke clear and warm. There was a sense of promise and comfort in the air. It felt unusually good to be "out".

Broaddy and I stopped in Fincastle at a small country store and provisioned for our day on the river - breakfast biscuits, coffee, snacks, nabs, 4 light beers, 2 cokes, 2 waters, and 2 of the largest beefsteak tomatoes you have ever seen. We're talking state fair material here. We complimented them with a loaf of white bread and a small jar of Duke's Mayonnaise.

Broaddy found the disposable salt and pepper shakers on the back aisle.

We made it to brother Jim's property just on the other side of Millboro Springs right at 10:00 A.M., and drove down through the long grassy fields to a large stand of trees that ran parallel to the river. We followed the worn path and came out of the tree line into an extended meadow about a hundred yards wide.We found the old wooden picnic table by the river and unloaded our gear and supplies.

Broaddy is a fisherman's fisherman. And like all such seasoned vets he has the proper gear to ensure success if it is to be had at all. As usual when we fished together he wound up loaning me several items, not the least of which were some flies he had hand tied for the day. Somehow Broaddy had never had the opportunity to fish the Cow Pasture River, but he knew what to bring.

"Try this", he said with a knowing smile. It was the same smile that always hoped for your success before his own.

"Yes Sir", I replied - on the water with a fly rod, I was a willing enlisted man and he was my able Captain.

The morning sun was now rising high in the sky. We pulled up our big green chest waiters and set off for the river just 30 or 40 yards away. When we reached it Broaddy stopped, hesitated and then turned.

"Thank you", he said, nodding his head with a smile.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else", I replied.

He kept the smile and headed up river.

There was really no need to walk far. The stretch of river we were on was an excellent run that provided a nice variety of habitat - the most attractive of which was a 40 yard long sluice on the opposite side that ran along a rock outcrop shaded by several trees that arched overhead. Broaddy began to test the upper part of the run while I worked the lower end. I was a little surprised after several minutes when neither of us had received a strike, but our late start probably wasn't helping our chances.

Upon completing a thorough search of the upper eddies, Broaddus began to fish his way down the run, expertly flipping his line upstream so the fly wouldn't swing unnaturally towards his position. If there was a fish in there and he was thinking of feeding, Broaddy was going to get him. But several more minutes passed and there was still no activity. We met on a shallow rocky flat in about 2 feet of water.

We began to discuss a strategy that would take us up river and then back to the clearing around lunch time. As we talked Broaddus made an occasional flip of his wrist - casually casting up the sluice in a manner that took every ounce of concentration when I attempted it. He paused for a moment and let his fly drift to the end of the line. It bobbed unnaturally in the middle of a fast moving rapid.

"You know...", he began to say, "We could just..."

Boom! There was a loud movement of water to the right of me and the clicking screech of flyline rapidly leaving a reel.

Broaddus reacted instantly.

"Whoa!", he exclaimed, as he raised his arm up and back to put tension on the line.

"What in the.... Did you see that!?", he was completely mystified the fish had hit his line in that spot, and so was I.

"I did !", I replied, "That's about the darndest thing I've ever... HOLY COW, LOOK AT THAT THING BROADDY - HE"S HUGE !!" The fish was down river and much closer to me than Broaddus.

"Yeah, he feels pretty big for sure", Broaddus responded. I walked out deeper and got an even better look at the fish.

"NO, I MEAN HUGE, HUGE", I added, "Stay here I'm going for the camera in the car".

"Stay here??", came the puzzled response, "Where do you think I'm going?!" I had made it about 5 steps when Broaddy finally got a good look at the biggest Rainbow Trout either of us has ever seen in a Virginia river. "HOLY MACKEREL... RUN LIKE HELL !" he yelled.

And I did.

When I returned he had just landed the fish and was being extremely careful not to hurt the beautiful creature. "Here take a picture - quick", he said. The fish was so large it looked unnaturally "bull headed" for a trout. I told him that for a moment I thought he had caught a fresh water Dolphin. Broaddus gingerly eased the beautiful rainbow back into the water. It hesitated a moment and then instinctively pumped hard for the safety of the deep water along the opposite shore.

All Broaddy could do was smile.

All I could do was smile.

Finally I said, "You know, they don't catch fish up here like that".

"I know", he replied staring back at the spot where the fish had just come from. "I've never caught a fish like that before - anywhere".

I couldn't help but comment.

"I think maybe the Judge had something to do with that one Broaddus."

"I was thinking the same thing...", came the reply.

"Third ‘fish of Grace'", I said simply. Broaddus had long since heard me tell of the 2 others.

"Third ‘fish of Grace'", he said slowly in agreement, his smile widening as the Spirit moved around us.

We had the tomato sandwiches with a cold beer and chips.

God is exceedingly good.