Other Years' Fishing Reports: 2008 | 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996
by Pudge Kleinkauf
2002 was definitely the year of the manta-ray on our saltwater fly fishing
excursion to Mexico. We saw dozens of them every day from the boats. The
rubbery "wings" they usually use for swimming would be flapping like crazy
as they launched themselves into the air with their long skinny tail
trailing behind. Then, they'd go "splat" like a kid in a swimming pool as
their flat, black bodies fell back into the water. The display was so
amazing that on several occasions we could see their white underbellies
while they were airborne and hear their splashes from miles away. One day
the large white belly of a sleeping ray as large as the boat lay just
underwater as we passed by. Our captain assured us it was not dead.
It was also a year of lots & lots of fish as well. Like most years, we caught skip-jack tuna until our arms were tired. Tracy and Beth caught 44 in just one afternoon along with thirteen sierra and a bonito. We love those guys. They're so cooperative! Some of these fish were exceptionally large for "skippies" and really demanded a lot of effort before they'd come to the boat. But, it was the jack cravalle with their distinctive black spot that really made this years trip special. One afternoon huge schools of them created frothing feeding cauldrons right at the surface. Cara and Alison each caught forty-pounders after what seemed like an endless struggle. More than once the rod tip on their 10-wt was pointed straight down as the fish tried to escape under the boat. |
We tried for pargo this year as we'd heard reports of some good fish, but
had no success. The sierra mackrel were another story, however. They proved
very eager to become the evening's ceviche for the cocktail hour. Suzanne
and Alison were glad to oblige them. The dorado were especially challenging
this year. We ended up losing six very large fish.
Pudge |
The beach was every bit as exciting. Cara started us off by catching a
lizard fish, something we'd never seen before. Then, before we knew it, we
were into schools of golden croakers. Flashing right in the surf, lots of
them willingly took our flies. That day was also renowned for the two
octopus we encountered right at the shore. They'd rub in the sand and then
dislodge long ribbons of skin they were sloughing off. They'd ink us if we
got too close. On the way home on the 4-wheelers we had a shot at a few
rooster fish, but, except for one brief hook-up, they were too fast for us.
It was a fabulous trip! Why not decide right now to join us in 2003. Our
dates will be March 24-30 and March 29th- April 4th. And, by special
request, we'll also be offering a trip in November this year, right after
the Intl Women Fly Fishers Festival in San Diego. Dates will be November
4-8, 2002. Trip cost of $1,100 will include four nights hotel, all meals,
three days on the boats, and round-trip airport transfers. If you're going
to the Festival, why not head just a little farther south and join us in
Baja. by Pudge Kleinkauf
After a long winter waiting for some fishing, our first float tube outing of the year always proves to be fantastic. This year was no exception. The late, late spring resulted in the ice going off the lake just one day before our arrival. Talk about cutting it close!
The fish were there waiting for us in the shallows, right where they always are in the spring, in spite of the very cold water. We layered-up under our neoprene waders to deal with it, and set out. Three casts is all it took for someone to hook into one of these willing rainbows. Almost immediately two others in the group also hooked up. Starting out with a triple set the tone for our day. The fish were in prime condition even after the winter under the ice and eager to take our flies. As usual, an olive bead-head lake leech did the trick. We suckered-in fish after fish by casting it toward the shore and stripping it erratically back out toward deeper water. They couldn't resist. We couldn't resist either. The fish were so visible it was tempting to try to dip your hand in and just scoop one up. Unless we dropped a line over their backs they were pretty unconcerned about us. Intent on trying to spawn, they were too focused on each other to pay us much attention. Their eggs don't actually hatch because there is no moving water running over them, but still they go through the motions. We ranged far and wide around the lake checking out the various graveled places against the banks that prove so attractive to spring fish. Most such spots held as least a few fish. |
After awhile we began trying out different patterns to see what would tempt these voracious spring feeders. They took several different smolt imitations and a few nymphs. Healthy and gleaming eighteen to twenty-inchers were quite common, with sixteen and seventeen inchers the norm.
In the evenings the smaller fish would begin to rise, making distinct "plops" in the water as they threw themselves at hatches of caddis and mayflies. All day long midges had covered the water's surface by the bazillions, but they'd ignored them. Now, they eagerly grabbed elk-hair caddis or Adams flies with abandon even when sunk under water. It was great for some of the beginners to try their hand at casting to the rises. After such a day, we certainly didn't complain that these "takers" were only in the ten to twelve-inch range.
The weather was beautiful, the days were long, and the fish were cooperative. What a way to start the summer!
Pudge |
There's always a lot going on around the lake in the spring, too. The nesting gulls and Arctic terns feasted on the midges and entertained us with their courting antics. They also alerted us to the fact that the eagles were in the vicinity seeking helpless newborn ducklings and chicks. Both the male and female eagle, as well as their immature offspring, scouted the lake several times a day. Adult gulls and terns literally dive-bombed them, squawking and screeching to drive them out of the territory and away from the babies.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
L
ots, and lots, and lots of bears greeted us upon our arrival at the Brooks River this year. More than I've ever seen there in the month of June. Usually not gathering until the sockeye salmon run is in full swing, this year they were poised and ready to pounce as soon as the salmon arrived. "Seventeen different bears have been identified in the area," one of the Park Service Rangers announced during the bear-orientation that is required of all visitors to Brooks.
The first group gobbled lunch and wadered-up quickly, eager to get to the water. Green-gray backs by the hundreds finned together at the bridge that spans the outflow of the river while dozens of noses and tails broke the surface at one of our favorite runs up-river. They were waiting for us. Our only disappointment was that there were bears patrolling the water below the bridge where it is legal to keep a salmon. That meant we had to fish up-river in the catch and release area for awhile. No problem. The fish were stacked up like cord-wood. Sockeye salmon are notoriously difficult to catch, however. They won't move to "grab" a fly. They lack a chase instinct as the result of being mainly plankton eaters as young fish. Still, once you can master the technique of getting your fly right at mouth-level, you can hook them. Tying on pink or chartreuse fish candy flies and adjusting the split shot on the leader to get just the right drift, it didn't take long until the old familiar "fish on" cry echoed along the river. The fish rocketed out of the water twisting and turning with the characteristic display of sockeye acrobatics. "Let him run, but palm your reel to slow him down," I advised. "Don't try to just 'horse' him in."
It's imperative that a bear not learn to associate a fish on the end of a line with people. Once that happens, the bear can become a real problem along the river. We're constantly vigilant for the appearance of one of the big brownies while a fish is splashing or being released. One of Marie's large and feisty fish managed to cover her with slime as she was trying to hold it for a picture. While I returned the fish to the water, she splashed water on her jacket and rubbed it clean. We certainly didn't want a bear deciding that she smelled like a fish. |
By the time the second group arrived, there were more than twenty bears roaming the area. Three sets of moms with cubs could be spotted at different times. One, a beautiful blond bear, had equally blond yearling cubs. Another dark chocolate bear also had a blond yearling. The third mom's brand new twin clubs looked like animated teddy bears as they followed her along the river paths.
Although everyone wanted to do battle with the spectacular sockeye, the rainbow fishing proved to be every bit as appealing. One beautiful afternoon we got out the dry flies and headed over to a long, slow glide of water that always provides good rainbow fishing. We weren't disappointed. A couple of women in the group were working on their dead-drift technique when eighteen to twenty-inch rainbows inhaled their #12 Adams. A swirling rise alerted them to the fact that they had a fish on, but a too-enthusiastic hook set quickly gave the fish their freedom. "Guess we'll have to change our tactics from the way we've been setting the hook on the salmon," someone said. One scarlet-sided bow after the other came to hand as soon as they were able to make that switch. And, if that wasn't enough, one gorgeous eighteen-inch Arctic grayling also joined the party.
There really is no place in the world quite like Brooks. Besides that first cup of coffee in front of the fire at the lodge each morning, its fish, its bears, and its environment, make this the most special place we visit each summer. We'll be waiting for you to join us and see for yourself.
Pudge |
It took a few "fish offs" before everyone got the hang of feeling the almost imperceptible strikes, setting the hook, and letting the fish run. Once they got it, though, they really got it. Then we had to quickly get the fish un-hooked, photographed, and released before a bear came on the scene.
Besides fishing we always trek up to the world-famous Brooks Falls to watch the bears fish for salmon. It's quite a show. One evening, a young bear stood poised on the edge of a rock outcropping in the rushing water waiting for a leaping fish to come close enough for him to grab. When his patience was rewarded, everyone applauded. A bigger bear came along soon afterwards, however, and deposed him from that choice spot. As we watched a "courting" pair also came on the scene. The huge male bear, intent on mating, contented himself with taking salmon away from other successful bears while he kept close track of his lady love.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Something new happens every year on every trip. This year, it was an Arctic grayling with freckles and a visiting porcupine on the Tangle River trip.
Porkies are so slow-moving that I wasn't surprised to see a couple of them squished by fast moving cars on the road into the lakes. But that same slow progress made watching a large fellow across the river from our camp site extra rewarding one night. Our visiting porky was contentedly sniffing along the water's edge when we saw him emerge from the bushes and waddle along the bank. He intimidated a large sea gull into leaving a promising bit of something, and he turned his ample back-side to us more than once to give us a fine view of his quills at rest. He was great. As for the grayling with freckles, she was quite a looker. The delicate beauty of grayling usually reveals itself in the aqua and pearlized pink and gold that dusts their gill plates. This girl also had the tiniest freckled dots on the edges of both those plates. Their resemblance to freckles on the smooth cheek of a youngster was unmistakable. It was especially gratifying to release her to hopefully make lots of babies in her image. Weather was warm and dry and water was low for this year's trip to the Tangle Lakes/River area. Our worries about finding fish were unfounded, however. Yes, the water was more concentrated in some areas, and no, the fish weren't always were we were used to finding them. Still, we were rewarded with some great fishing. Most days our #12 elk-hair-caddis flies got real work-outs as fish after fish rose to take them. At times we switched to yellow or red humpies or parachute Adams' just to give our eyes something different to focus on. The sunny days produced some world-class glare on the water, and at such times, the white posts or wings on the flies became absolutely essential to visibility. |
One afternoon after a hot and dusty up-river hike, we were rewarded with lots of fish in the fifteen to sixteen-inch range. "They're all concentrated in one large pool where most of the water is," Diane pointed out to Leslie. She was right. The fish had moved from some of their customary runs down into a safe pool where the water was both deeper and cooler. With our polaroid glasses, we could see them flash and then slide up from below to sip our flies. At one point, we had them almost fighting over who got to take our offering.
Lots of "doubles" characterized the afternoon. Two fish on, two photos, and two safe releases. Over and over again. A rain storm in mid-afternoon seemed only to make the fish more eager. They'd been just waiting for us, it seemed. Our only enemy this trip was the wind. At times it blew so hard that the poor little bugs had no chance to hatch, and the fish just hunkered-down to wait it out. We'd try and try to cast, usually having to revert to our side-arm cast, but the dry-fly fishing mostly came to a screeching halt.
Golly, it was hard to leave. Uncrowded water, lots of birds, and some outstanding wildflower viewing were as special as all the fish. I wonder what treats next year will bring? Join us and find out.
Pudge |
Nymphs saved the day on a couple such occasions. The old reliable gold ribbed hare's ear brought success, as did our favorite yellow soft hackle. Our usual bead head nymphs didn't seem to be as effective and were constantly getting hung-up in the shallow water.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
As we headed north of Anchorage on the first day of the trip, we found very disappointing fishing in two of the major salmon streams we stopped at. Just a few pink and chum salmon had appeared in creeks that should by then have held significant numbers of fish. The hot, dry weather had undoubtedly contributed to the reluctance of the fish to depart the silty Susitna River and enter their natal waters.
We waded across below the only run where we could see finning fish and positioned ourselves where we could cast most easily. Just a few pink salmon were interested in our flies and fishing was slow. Even-numbered years see thousands of pink salmon enter the rivers, and we'd been prepared for non-stop action. Nevertheless, everyone got a chance to play a fish or two before we finally decided to head on up to our next destination where we'd planned to camp the night and fish for Arctic grayling that night and the following day. Fate often has a way of changing the best laid plans, however, and this day proved to be a good example. While two of the four of us waited patiently at our planned gas-up stop, the others were sitting in a hot, broken-down motor home about thirty miles back along the road. After finally being able to contact us and the friend from whom they'd borrowed the motor home, we back-tracked and re-grouped. Since they didn't have camping equipment, we couldn't continue on to our planned next stop. We did have float tube equipment (because tubing was scheduled for the third day of the trip), however, so we headed back to a cabin we often rent on a good tubing lake. The owner of the motor home had arrived and traded the crippled motor home for one of the women's pick-ups, so everyone was mobile again. And, lucky for us, the cabin was vacant that night and the next. Finally, after a stressful day, we settled down with a glass of wine on the cabin deck for a beautiful sunset with Mount McKinley on the horizon. It wasn't the camp site by the river that we'd planned, but it was wonderful, just the same. |
Tubing proved good the next morning, and the rainbows were pretty cooperative. The highlight of the day, however, proved to be our interaction with not one, but four common loons. They appeared around us from out of nowhere and proceeded to talk to us, to display incredible running and flapping behavior, and to repeatedly dive and surface all around us. We did our best to keep up our end of the conversation, and that seemed to just encourage them. They stayed around us for the better part of an hour. We kept expecting them to go after the fish we had on, but they didn't seem interested. It was just us and our floating contraptions that seemed to intrigue them.
In mid-afternoon we headed in during a pelting rain storm and went to walk around the nearby village, opting to fish again after supper. Our guess was that the rain would bring some salmon into the rivers where we'd started out, so the consensus was that we should return there for our last day of fishing. Good choice!!! Just as we'd hoped, both pink and chum salmon had entered the creek in droves as the result of rising water. Now we could fish! Lots and lots and lots of hook-ups took place that day. Everyone got a chance to practice setting the hook on a salmon with the 8-wt rod, and everyone got a number of chances to learn the technique of "palming the reel" to help slow down the revolutions of the spool on the reel and control the fish. Both are essential skills for successful salmon fishing, skills that these women could now take with them to all the nearby rivers where the salmon fishing typically gets better and better as August progresses.
Yes, we were disappointed not to have had the chance to fish for grayling, but, we got to fish for two of the three species we were after, so that's not bad. Given the problems we experienced, everyone agreed that it turned out to be a pretty great trip, just the same. We got lemons, so we made lemonade, and it tasted pretty darned good.
Pudge |
We'd heard talk of some early coho also having entered the river, but we weren't luck enough to catch any of them. Still, the opportunity to "practice" on some of the other salmon species made the day a success.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
The seventh annual fly fishing school of Women's Flyfishing® and Talstar Lodge on the Talachulitna River (The "Tal") was absolutely unbelievable. We were in fly fishing heaven with weather that was almost too hot and dry, lots of very cooperative fish, Robert's incomparable cooking, and silver salmon that decided to arrive early because they had heard that we were there.
Some of this year's students had had a little fly fishing experience, and some had never held a fly rod. Nevertheless, within a very short time, they were casting their 5-wt rods with confidence and had fish hitting their flies. The river was full of fish. This being an even-numbered year, pink salmon were arriving by the thousands. We could see them milling around at the river mouth and marching up-stream to the spawning beds. It was quite a site. The first evening of the school is always devoted to knot tying. Tired and full from a magnificent salmon dinner with birthday cake for dessert, they managed to master the nail knot and the fundamentals of leader construction. Since we'd planned a 5:30 a.m. wake-up time, we decided to leave the blood knot for the following day. The second morning of the school found us all warmly dressed down at the river mouth casting 8-wt rods and large flies for the sockeye, pink, and chum salmon we could see right off the bank. Fish-on, fish-on, fish-on was the constant refrain as hook-up after hook-up occurred. Our first lesson had been devoted to "feeling" the take. Now, they were working on lesson #2, learning to set the hook. Some held onto the line for dear life and saw the fish easily break them off. Some let loose of the line completely and also lost their fish. Once in awhile someone had a fish on for a few minutes only to be disappointed in losing it later because the hook really hadn't been set hard enough. Eventually, they had the hook-set thing down and now the fun really began. Keeping the fish long enough to get a chance to play it necessitated learning how to put on just enough but not too much pressure. We'd had a lesson on the technique of "palming the reel", but now they had to do it for real. The pink salmon are most cooperative, providing chance after chance for the students to practice. It wasn't long before catching pinks was "old hat" and they were anxious to hook into the more aggressive and more acrobatic silver salmon that were arriving. They didn't have long to wait. "There's a silver," someone would announce, and everyone instantly went on the alert. In no time at all they could tell immediately when the fish they'd hooked was a silver and not a pink. The almost instantaneous leaps and blistering runs were a dead give-away. The nonchalant "oh, there's another pink," attitude gave way to intense concentration and focused effort. They didn't want to risk losing such a prize. Finally, we had some silvers on the bank. The cheers were so loud that the fellows fishing across the river had to stop fishing to watch. These were fish to be proud of. |
We headed home that afternoon for lemonade and warm chocolate chip cookies while we worked on the blood knot. The next morning everyone had at least one occasion to practice their nail and blood knots while constructing new leaders. They were perfect. Not one line break at a knot occurred that day or for the rest of the school.
Lots and lots of other "firsts" occurred that day and the next. The first fish on a fly rod, the first silver, the first fish landed, etc. Each first becomes the basis for a toast at dinner. This group had lots and lots of toasts. The afternoon rainbow fishing may not have produced as many fish, but it still accounted for some beauties. After unfolding our wading sticks and making it across the river, we hiked up-stream to one of our favorite rainbow runs. On small tippets, this was more challenging fishing. At least five very large rainbows were lost to overly aggressive hook sets and a line held too tight for the fish to play. Still, several gorgeous leopard rainbows, for which the Tal is famous, came to hand that afternoon. We fished for them with egg imitation flies right behind the king salmon that were spawning in the fast water.
Even if we'd have preferred better rainbow fishing, the salmon fishing more than made up for it. Silvers and more silvers arrived at the mouth and eagerly took our flies. The two-fish-a-day limit was quickly met by most of the group. Then they took to practicing the same catch and release tactics they'd learned for releasing the pink salmon. Finally, it was time to go. They left as fly fishers, confident in their casts, in their knots, and in their ability to play and land big fish. They also left as a group, exchanging phone numbers and e-mail addresses and planning on fishing together on a future trip. Year #8 should be every bit as good. Come on along!
Pudge |
We only found a few spawning kings in our favorite stretch of the river on the third afternoon. Low water had sent kings to areas they don't typically use for spawning. The group spread out along a huge river bend where at least one pair of spawners could be seen every few yards. Fishing right behind the kings as well as farther down-stream below them produced some gorgeous specimens, but not any of the 18+ inch fish we're used to in that area.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
The water was low and the air was smoky from some forest fires in the area, but that didn't even slow us down for this year's Aniak River trip. Because of the low water, however, we opted for a trip that offered a variety of locations as well as just the Aniak.
We started off at Hook-M-Up's "upper camp" out on the Kuskowim River (of which the Aniak is a major tributary). The gold-rush style cabins and the great dining/lounging area in the lodge made us welcome. We settled in quickly and set off for one of the nearby tributaries. As we pulled up in the boat, we could see the silvers were rolling right along the line where the smaller river's clear water met the Kukokwim's silty flow. The bright sun made the fish a little spooky, and it was obvious that we had to cast into the silty water and trigger the fish's chase instinct to entice it out into clear water for a strike. Wham, a silver hit Dorothy's fly with an arm-wrenching grab, and the battle was on. Almost chest deep on the edge of a drop-off, Dorothy had to rely on a stout rod and strong reel to bring the fish to her rather than move around with it. While she was playing this guy, a couple others in the group also got hits, and we were in business. Big, strong males, these fish cooperated nicely, and we went back to camp for dinner well satisfied. We spent part of the next day fishing for silvers and part heading up the tributary's clear water to fish for Arctic grayling and the Dolly Varden char for which the Aniak area is famous. Mimi, just learning to fly fish, proudly announced her first grayling on a dry fly before connecting with several others. We could hardly tear her away for lunch. Traveling farther afield the next day, we visited a different tributary and found a true mother-load of silvers just waiting for us. Finning slowly in an area where the clear water pooled up, they actually raced each other for the chance to grab the flies we stripped in front of them. Silvers' aggressive tendencies are magnified when a large school is present, and that certainly proved true this day. Now Mimi, with her confidence building, quickly hooked into silvers and got a good chance to work on practicing setting the hook. It didn't take long before she held a fat, gleaming fish up for a picture. "Guess I can do this after all," she said. JoAnn was busy down river a bit playing with some very aggressive pike, and some Dolly Varden laying behind the silvers. Dorothy and Bill, Mimi's husband, were matching each other fish for fish. Whew! We were more than ready for lunch when Woody announced that a freshly caught silver, cooked over an open fire on the river bank and accompanied by some of Jeannie's home cooked bread, was waiting for us. We fished until our arms were tired and headed back to camp just ahead of a strong afternoon storm. Sure was great to settle down in the lounge in front of the fire as the rain came down. |
On our last day we headed up the drought-reduced Aniak River. Large logs protruded from the middle of the river, and some of the turns put us right against the bank. Still, Woody's boat driving skill got us up to where the salmon were spawning and the rainbows, Dolly Varden char and Arctic grayling were busy gobbling up salmon eggs. We went to work with some Illiamna pinkie egg flies and had doubles and triples almost immediately.
"Wow," someone would say, "look at this color," as they brought a fat, feisty char to the bank in all its pre-spawning glory. Flaming red bellies and spots, as well as similarly colored mouths made dramatic contrasts with the other more silvery fish. Each char was just enough different that we found ourselves running up and down the bank to look at each other's fish time and time again. It wasn't until after another of Woody's great shore lunches that the rainbows began to show up. We figured that they must have just moved into the area with a bunch of chum salmon that suddenly began investigating the spawning possibilities of the area we were fishing. Then, just for variety, Bill put on a small dry fly and made sure that the Arctic grayling were also represented.
Talk about hard to leave! The Aniak River trip always proves to be the one where we find the largest variety of fish. Together with the true Alaska wilderness setting, the marvelous food, and the good company, it's a trip that is hard to beat. In fact, as we said our good byes, Dorothy remarked that "this wasn't just a fishing trip, it was truly an adventure!" Join us next year and see for yourself.
Pudge |
A film crew from Alaska Magazine TV came along on this year's trip. They marveled at the diversity of fish, the groups' repeated success, and the fun of the trip itself. The program's segment on our trip will show sometime late this fall. If your local public television station is not carrying the Alaska Magazine Television series, call them and ask them to offer it. Then you can see for yourself what a great time we had.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
If you weren't with us on this year's Nome trip, you missed some truly outstanding fly fishing!! The rivers around Nome always seem lovely and quiet as compared to other places we visit. At the same time they can provide incredible fishing. Maybe it's the absence of lots of people, and maybe it's that we're targeting a species that many people foolishly overlook. Whatever it is, I find myself dreaming about those unbelievable Arctic grayling and those gentle, easily wadable streams long before our annual trip ever takes place.
This year was no exception. I could see that gorgeous sail-like dorsal fin with its aqua or fuscia spots and bars in my minds eye and imagine it flared above a sleek body whose tiny mouth delicately took a #12 elk-hair caddis off the water's surface. Sometimes, the vision was of those glowing scales and golden eyes as I returned a trophy to the crystal-clear water. Every dream came true. You also missed a special treat this year. The low water levels enabled us to take the 4-wheelers up to a stretch of water that we'd never been able to reach before. It has magic! Not only were some absolutely magnificent grayling just waiting for our flies, but lots of char also joined them in the faster riffles in this part of the river. And, the best part is that we had it all to ourselves! Ellen started us off with a 20-inch grayling while Joan was trying to entice one of the silver salmon in the run to take her purple egg-sucking leech. The salmon run was poor this year, but enough silvers moved through the area to tempt us into casting to them. And, besides, they brought the char along behind them. After awhile, though, Joan just couldn't resist seeing those dry-fly takes, or feeling the dancing rod tip and she reverted to her 5-wt rod. We'd been fishing with egg-imitation flies as well as our dry flies when the wind was blowing and there was no bug activity, but in this stretch we found we might just as easily hook a beautiful Dolly in all her/his spawning colors as a grayling with these tiny balls of pink. "Dolly or grayling," we asked each other whenever we saw a bent rod. Soon, the force of the take or the presence or absence of jumps helped us to know the answer even before we brought the fish to the bank. Grayling aren't usually jumpers, so some serious splashing usually meant char. Many of the char had both flaming red bellies and spots along their flanks as well as the colored mouths that have brought them the nick-name "the lipstick fish." In the faster riffles the 18 and 20-inch fish presented quite a challenge. Like grayling, they, too are often under-appreciated fish on a light rod. |
Naturally, we also had to head down-river to our favorite grayling runs as well. What we found was that the same low water that had given us access to some new areas had also rearranged some of the usual ones and the fish were not necessarily in all the old familiar places. Not to worry, we just moved around a little until we found them.
Find them we did. One beautiful afternoon, we had fun trying to see if we could find a dry fly that they didn't want. They seemed absolutely voracious and were eager to show us just how cooperative they could be. Surprisingly, Ellen even caught several char on her dries. Fish after fish topped 20 inches, with a few just a millimeter shy of 22. Although we can't explain it, we seldom catch grayling less than 18 inches on this trip. How could we complain?? Along one stretch of water where the current angled in against the bank, a large clump of vegetation that had washed off the bank lay stranded. When the sun penetrated the water just right, we could see at least twenty five grayling strung out in a long line below it letting it break the current for them. The challenge, of course, was to present the fly to the fish without getting hung up in the branches. It was a lesson in line control that paid off in lots of fish. We didn't even try to retrieve our lost flies for fear of spooking this treasure-trove of fish. We did wade in and pluck at least a dozen flies off the snag before moving on, however.
Could you possibly doubt that we're going again next year? We wouldn't miss it for the world. We don't want you to miss it either. The dates are August 17-21, 2003. So start planning now!
Pudge |
Just as in other years, we marveled at the sweeping expanse of hills and mountains along the road to camp as we hoped for sittings of the reindeer and musk-ox that frequent the area. Although unsuccessful in that endeavor, we gawked and photographed the abandoned little train engines, the old ore cars, the deteriorating dredges, and the other remnants of the Gold Rush that lay scattered around along the tiny creeks as well as the main roads. A great part of Alaska's history is here along with these unbelievable fish.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
"All I can say," one of the women remarked, "is WOW. This really is heaven!" She'd caught her seventh or eighth rainbow of the morning along an incredibly productive stretch of salmon-choked water and was marveling at their beauty. For awhile the group had been frustrated by one spawning chum salmon after another taking the tiny egg flies they'd meant for the rainbows. "Just remember," I'd told them, "the rainbows wouldn't be here if they weren't hanging out behind the salmon waiting for the eggs."
Part of the problem had been that it took the group awhile to be able to spot the smaller, darker shapes of rainbows finning slowly amidst the pods of salmon. Without being able to identify their prize, they weren't always able to direct their flies in exactly the right place. But now, fish after fish rewarded them with some great action. A few of the other rewards on the trip included a fat porcupine waddling across the trail in front of us with his quills extended and eagles soaring over the river hunting salmon. Another afternoon, a dark brown fox landed an unsuspecting trout and hurried away with it toward her den and her waiting kits as we watched. Thanks to the protein-rich diet of salmon eggs, the scarlet-sided bows were in prime shape. Pink-tipped pectoral and caudal fins only enhanced the blushed cheeks and the characteristic stripe. The Tal's famous leopard rainbows also made an appearance. Their carmel-colored skin and more blunt head shape makes them easy to differentiate from their more typical cousins. Together they epitomize the Tal's truly marvelous rainbow water. I'd told the group that once the rainbows key-in on salmon eggs, they generally ignore dry flies. Nevertheless, Marie decided that she simply had see if she could entice one to take her #12 parachute Adams. An eighteen-inch beauty cooperated willingly, sipped in her offering, and the fight was on. It was the highlight of the trip for her. Heaven, this was. |
The only time the group could tear themselves away from these leaping, spotted beauties was to pursue the silver salmon that lay in large pods down river. Early morning saw the group bundled up against the chilly morning heading downstream in the boat to where the action was. Hook-up after hook-up with #2 purple egg-sucking leech flies rewarded their efforts. Many of the silvers were turning the dark red color that indicated spawning fish. We gently returned them to the water to complete their mission. Others were fresh enough to keep, however.
One morning Ellie had discovered the delights of catching silver salmon on the surface on a large dry-fly called the "pink-polliwog." She quickly became a dedicated "wogger" often out-fishing the others using their traditional streamer flies. One fish, accidentally hooked in the tail, took her forever to land. Even though her arm was worn out after the battle, she just couldn't stop. Needless to say, Dave was busy at the filleting table. As we headed up to an incredible brunch at the lodge one morning, we stopped to watch a rainbow show. As Dave would clean a fish, he's throw some of the innards and small chunks of flesh into the water. Within seconds, the rainbows and char that were laying just on the edge of the current would appear swirling and fighting over the waiting meal, all to the great delight of the watching group.
As we had our wine on the deck before dinner one night, someone mentioned the bumper sticker that proclaims, "eat, sleep and go fishing." This group decided that whoever created the sticker had it all wrong. Instead, they agreed, it should say "go fishing, eat, and sleep." That's the way we did it, and it was truly "WOW". Come and see for yourself next year. The rainbows will be waiting for you.
Pudge |
The other highlight of the trip for everyone was, of course, the food. Robert's cooking wowed them all. From the Cajun chicken soup to the cheery chocolate cake, we just couldn't get enough. Bonnie celebrated her birthday during the trip, and we also gorged on a birthday cake decorated with an egg-sucking leech!
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Silvers, silvers, and more silvers were the hallmark of this year's Cordova trip. We flew out to them and boated out to them, but either way they were very glad to see us. After last year's near-flood conditions, we were delighted!
We headed out the Copper River Highway to visit Child's Glacier and the Million Dollar Bridge as soon as we collected our rental car and dropped our stuff at the Lodge on the first day. The weather was typical for Cordova, intermittent rain. The swans resting in the ponds along the road didn't mind. They posed willingly for lots of pictures. Since the blue of the glaciers shows up much better in cloudy weather, we were rewarded with some dazzling views of the Glacier's face. Our hike over the famous Million Dollar Bridge and along a new trail just beyond it brought the Fall beauty of Alaska home to us. Golden leaves, mushrooms along the path, and blueberries on the bushes all delighted us. The Bridge was constructed in about 1910 to serve the mining operations of the area. Then, one of its spans collapsed into the seething Copper River during the 1964 earthquake. Now partially repaired, we can watch the icebergs from nearby Miles glacier float beneath as we cross. The next day we flew out over the Bering Glacier and Ice Fields to the silvers waiting for us on the other side. Larry, our pilot, landed us on the beach right next to them, and Maggie hooked up on her very first cast! The "hits" were very soft, and it was often hard to be sure you actually had a fish on. I advised everyone to set the hook at the least suspicion of a fish and the hook-ups increased dramatically. These were huge, fresh fish with sea lice still decorating their flanks. Given that they had lots of room to run in the wide river, it took some real patience to finally land them. But, land them we did, consistently. Fourteen, fifteen and even sixteen pound fish were common. We forgot just how tired we were, however, as we marveled at the unbelievably vast Bering ice fields we flew over on the way home. Larry reminded us that these are the largest ice fields in the world. We definitely believed him. |
The next day we hopped in the boat at 7:00 a.m. for a ride out into Prince William Sound. As we hiked along the beach we could see silvers jumping in the slow water ahead of us. We couldn't get there fast enough. Many of the jumpers displayed the pink coloration of fish that had begun the physical changes that come with their spawning activity, but they were as eager to take our flies as their silvery fresh cousins.
Like silvers everywhere, these fish "turned-off" with frustrating regularity. Thankfully, a change of fly or color usually turned them on again. The old stand-by purple egg-sucking-leech usually took at least a few fish before another turn-off occurred. Then, hot orange, fuscia, or chartreuse did the trick. The fish that ended up on a stringer "swam" along in the water beside us as we hiked back to the boat for lunch.
Our last day was spent at one of the beautiful small streams along a crescent beach being pounded by surf and foam-topped breakers. After Larry's perfect landing, we headed up to the deep holes where the silvers hide in the tea-colored water. Sure enough, they were right where we usually find them. And, like other years, we also found some sea-run cutthroat trout as well. As we headed back to the beach for our pick-up, we all knew our trip was ending. "It's just as well," Marci remarked. "I'm not sure I have the strength left to land another fish." Come along and see if you feel the same on next year's trip.
Pudge |
Later, we stopped in a lovely little cove for a short hike up to a lake with cutthroat trout. It wasn't easy to cast with the trees behind us and lots of lilly pads in front of us, but we still managed to catch some lovely cuts. Liz, making her first fly fishing trip ever, landed a 15-inch beauty.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Our Kodiak trip this year proved to be a mixed bag. I'd arrived a few days before the group this year to visit with friends and was dismayed to find very low water. Just as with salmon everywhere, no water means no fish. As I checked with Cy's Sporting Goods and drove to several of the rivers to take a look, the message was always the same -not much happening.
Kodiak Island's six major drive-to rivers are all short and tidally influenced. In typical years the highway bridges serve as the demarcation point for various regulations. This year, all fishing was closed above the bridges as the result of the low water. Things looked bleak. Still, we got lucky. A couple of days before the group was scheduled to arrive it started to rain. Then it started to pour and the wind blew 40 miles an hour. The rivers came up and the fish, that had been patiently waiting just off the mouths of the rivers, finally headed in. Just in time. The Alaska Department of Fish & Game opened the rivers above the bridge and it was time to fish. When the group was finally assembled we got on the water as fast as we could. The water was still dirty from all the rain, but at least there were fish. Because it was a week-day, we didn't have to compete with too many other anglers, so we were able to move around to different parts of the river with ease. We even spent about an hour fishing directly at the mouth of one of the rivers casting to small pods of fish being swept in on the tide. It was pretty exciting to see the v-wakes that marked their passage. As things cleared up, the fish began to hit our flies with abandon. I had to remind everyone that not all silver "takes" are hard grabs. Rather, they are often the softest of touches. Once they were willing to set the hook on even the tiniest suspicion that they had a fish, we were in business. |
Silvers straight in from the ocean are so bright their flanks often look snow white. Decorated with sea lice, they are strong, challenging fish. We saw plenty of the great leaps and scorching runs that this species is so famous for. In fact, it was the presence or absence of those leaps that foretold whether the fish would turn out to be a silver or one of the large chum salmon that were also occupying the water and occasionally took our green, fuscia, or orange streamer flies.
Everyone had to practice setting the hook several times in the silver's bony mouth. "Not sure how many fish I lost because I was waiting until I was sure what I felt was a fish," Melanie said. Ann also lost a couple of fish in spite of setting the hook multiple times and Carolyn's loose drag resulted in another incredibly active fish that got away. Mastering the technique of palming the reel to keep the fish under control was another formidable task but they did it. Each fish contributed to the learning.
The weather during our trip was great as well. The only problem was that without some continuing rain, the water didn't stay up. By our last day we noticed a distinct reduction in the amount of fish that headed in on the tide. We'd been more than lucky to be on the rivers just when the fish were coming in, though, so we didn't complain. As we ended our trip, it was raining again. That's Kodiak!
Pudge |
We also took advantage of some of the good dolly varden char fishing that can be had in Kodiak's rivers during salmon season. The char follow the salmon into the rivers and gorge on salmon eggs and rotting salmon flesh as they prepare for their own spawning ritual. They proved quite cooperative on a small egg-imitation fly fished beneath a small split shot. Because we could actually see them resting along the feeding lanes, we had the fun of some sight-casting. "I actually saw that fish move out of the run and follow my fly," Ann said after one of her takes.
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