
When my plane landed at the airport in Roatán, I was nervous in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. I knew that this trip would be life-changing, but I was still worried. I was worried about being accepted into the group of kids coming to Guanaja to fly fish from around the world. I was concerned about getting along with and fitting in among the locals and everyone I came across. I was anxious that I wouldn’t get as much out of the trip as I hoped.
An hour or so after landing, we boarded the boat we would be riding in on the way to Guanaja. Unbeknownst to me, the entire boat ride there would be very wet, unlike our conversation. Most of the boys were curled into corners or on seats they managed to hold onto. Nothing too exciting happened, and the awkwardness of the presence of strangers seemed to occupy everyone except Worthy, Brady, and Ellen, as they chatted the 2 hour boat ride away.
Dinner that night was quiet. Besides the fact that none of us knew each other very well yet, the weariness of travel and incredibly delicious lobster kept our mouths shut. Little did we know, we were all in for the experience of a lifetime.
Sunday was special. After dinner, we hung out at the dock with a few local kids. One by one, the other boys disappeared back into their cabanas, but Cooper and I stayed there for hours. Tarpon came in and out of the marina, their silversides reflecting everything the post lights shone out. You could look out into the darkness of the water and see a 5 foot silver-blue glow-stick swimming around. It was really something else for me as a Colorado kid, because when the sun goes down, you have to stop fishing. Well, not off this dock. I had been out there for close to 3 and a half hours and it was almost 10:30. I was calling it a night and started walking back to the cabana, when I saw four permit come into the light. I wasn’t worried or stressed or even thinking about making a cast. These 4 individuals had come to the same spot earlier in the night. I had made several casts on several different accounts to them previously, but I got no eats.
“Try again,” a voice said. It was Maryann. She was one of the local girls whom I had been chatting with earlier. “You never know, one of them might go for it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I responded. “I’ve already casted at them, and they haven’t eaten.”
“Just one last try,” she said. “You never know.”
I unstrung my rod and cast out. I saw one of them nose down where my fly was and I set. Boom. Permit on! After a fight much, much harder than the biggest trout I’d ever hooked, Walter, the night security guard, leaned over the edge of the panga we had gotten in and successfully leadered and tailed the fish. I shrieked with joy. My first permit! It was awesome. Persistence, I learned, really does pay off!
Monday was a good day, but my next realization came on Tuesday night. Cooper and I had a joyous, light-hearted conversation filled with laughs on the cabana porch with two local kids, Alejandro and his friend, as we waited for the rain to stop. Between all of us arm wrestling, joke cracking, and throwing wet rainwater socks at each other, I asked Alejandro about his exams, since I had heard about all the kids having tests and finals at school. He responded that the kids had the day off, and the exams started the following day. I proceeded to ask him about the next day, if he had exams, and what subjects they would be on. He answered that he wasn’t going to school tomorrow. Confused, I asked again, thinking it was my below mediocre translation. Alejandro explained that he had stopped going to school and instead took up a job for the money. His friend told me that he did the same. Immediately I realized two things that will stick with me for the rest of my life. One, Alejandro and his friend stopped going to school before working age in America so they could earn money and try to get somewhere in life with what they had. Two, they both had a loving, caring heart and a joyous personality filled with optimism that was a blast to be around! Only after that conversation did I truly realize how fortunate I am, and how important optimism is. Alejandro and his friend had different choices to make than those of us students visiting Guanaja for a week. Alejandro and his friend continued to stay positive, be happy, and find something in life to look forward to. They managed to find the beauty in something every day. I only wish I could be more like Alejandro and his friend.
Besides the bonefish, tarpon, permit, and giant snapper, the biggest takeaway I had from my time in Guanaja was about love. Guanaja has taught me to accept and love everyone with an open mind and a loving heart, like family. The community in Guanaja is so close and so tightly bound together, they can get through any obstacle, no matter how big, because they love each and every person like family. I know that if the whole world took a page from the book of Guanaja, it would be a much better place.
For the longest time, I’ve felt like something was missing inside me. I’ve felt like there was a hole in the spot in my heart that tells me how to live my life. That hole is gone now, and it has been filled with the love from Guanaja. I can’t wait to travel that 1953.87 miles again to my home away from home, and I know I’ll be back to Guanaja soon to learn to love more of this adventure we call life.
An hour or so after landing, we boarded the boat we would be riding in on the way to Guanaja. Unbeknownst to me, the entire boat ride there would be very wet, unlike our conversation. Most of the boys were curled into corners or on seats they managed to hold onto. Nothing too exciting happened, and the awkwardness of the presence of strangers seemed to occupy everyone except Worthy, Brady, and Ellen, as they chatted the 2 hour boat ride away.
Dinner that night was quiet. Besides the fact that none of us knew each other very well yet, the weariness of travel and incredibly delicious lobster kept our mouths shut. Little did we know, we were all in for the experience of a lifetime.
Sunday was special. After dinner, we hung out at the dock with a few local kids. One by one, the other boys disappeared back into their cabanas, but Cooper and I stayed there for hours. Tarpon came in and out of the marina, their silversides reflecting everything the post lights shone out. You could look out into the darkness of the water and see a 5 foot silver-blue glow-stick swimming around. It was really something else for me as a Colorado kid, because when the sun goes down, you have to stop fishing. Well, not off this dock. I had been out there for close to 3 and a half hours and it was almost 10:30. I was calling it a night and started walking back to the cabana, when I saw four permit come into the light. I wasn’t worried or stressed or even thinking about making a cast. These 4 individuals had come to the same spot earlier in the night. I had made several casts on several different accounts to them previously, but I got no eats.
“Try again,” a voice said. It was Maryann. She was one of the local girls whom I had been chatting with earlier. “You never know, one of them might go for it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I responded. “I’ve already casted at them, and they haven’t eaten.”
“Just one last try,” she said. “You never know.”
I unstrung my rod and cast out. I saw one of them nose down where my fly was and I set. Boom. Permit on! After a fight much, much harder than the biggest trout I’d ever hooked, Walter, the night security guard, leaned over the edge of the panga we had gotten in and successfully leadered and tailed the fish. I shrieked with joy. My first permit! It was awesome. Persistence, I learned, really does pay off!
Monday was a good day, but my next realization came on Tuesday night. Cooper and I had a joyous, light-hearted conversation filled with laughs on the cabana porch with two local kids, Alejandro and his friend, as we waited for the rain to stop. Between all of us arm wrestling, joke cracking, and throwing wet rainwater socks at each other, I asked Alejandro about his exams, since I had heard about all the kids having tests and finals at school. He responded that the kids had the day off, and the exams started the following day. I proceeded to ask him about the next day, if he had exams, and what subjects they would be on. He answered that he wasn’t going to school tomorrow. Confused, I asked again, thinking it was my below mediocre translation. Alejandro explained that he had stopped going to school and instead took up a job for the money. His friend told me that he did the same. Immediately I realized two things that will stick with me for the rest of my life. One, Alejandro and his friend stopped going to school before working age in America so they could earn money and try to get somewhere in life with what they had. Two, they both had a loving, caring heart and a joyous personality filled with optimism that was a blast to be around! Only after that conversation did I truly realize how fortunate I am, and how important optimism is. Alejandro and his friend had different choices to make than those of us students visiting Guanaja for a week. Alejandro and his friend continued to stay positive, be happy, and find something in life to look forward to. They managed to find the beauty in something every day. I only wish I could be more like Alejandro and his friend.
Besides the bonefish, tarpon, permit, and giant snapper, the biggest takeaway I had from my time in Guanaja was about love. Guanaja has taught me to accept and love everyone with an open mind and a loving heart, like family. The community in Guanaja is so close and so tightly bound together, they can get through any obstacle, no matter how big, because they love each and every person like family. I know that if the whole world took a page from the book of Guanaja, it would be a much better place.
For the longest time, I’ve felt like something was missing inside me. I’ve felt like there was a hole in the spot in my heart that tells me how to live my life. That hole is gone now, and it has been filled with the love from Guanaja. I can’t wait to travel that 1953.87 miles again to my home away from home, and I know I’ll be back to Guanaja soon to learn to love more of this adventure we call life.