Sunday, January 31, 2010

Kvichak 2009 For Good or Evil

The usual suspects assembled at dawn, on Monday morning, in front of the Lake Clark Air terminal, at Merrill Field, in Anchorage. It was a smaller group this year, 2 of our party had flown into Igiogik the previous day by private plane, and 3 more would arrive on Wednesday. It was the third week of September and we were headed to the Kvichak in pursuit of rainbows. For good or evil, this was the third year in a row of this insanity.

It was dark and the office was still closed when we pulled into the parking lot, and so we waited in the car. Soon lights came on inside, the door opened and we quickly piled our gear in front of the scales for the “weigh-in”. Our cargo was soon loaded into the plane, followed by the three of us and finally the pilot. The plan was to fly through Lake Clark Pass, land at Port Alsworth on Lake Clark to pickup more freight – which had been shuttled there over the weekend – and then continue on to Igiogik, the point where the Kvichak River is born. We took off at first light.

We came in low over Igiogik, circled and landed. I could see Mike and Phil, who had flown in on Sunday, standing in front of the hangar, along with our host, George. The initial reports were not promising. The group ahead of us, very experienced on the river, declared the Kvichak a bust and moved over to the Naknek River. In spite of this and with blind optimism, we loaded our gear into the waiting boats and headed down river to Blueberry Island Lodge certain that our knowledge of the river would prove the previous party wrong.



At the lodge, we quickly unloaded the boats, had lunch, shook out our gear, and in two boats fanned out down river. The weather was sunny, cool and slightly windy. Our normal approach is to dead-drift beads, egg patterns and flesh flies, or swing black leeches, and large articulated flesh flies. I was armed with an 8’ 6”, 7-weight single handed rod, and a 10’ 6” 8/9-weight switch rod. After 2 hours of hard fishing we had little to show for our efforts and by the time we headed back to camp we had landed only a few rainbows. The disturbing thing was that we saw very few spawning reds (sockeye salmon) in the river, the normal target for foraging rainbows. We did see a large brown bear, up close and personal, near one of our favorite spots on the river, the first of several sightings over the ensuing days. In spite of the poor showing, we chalked it up to a first-day learning curve and remained enthusiastic.



After dinner that evening we poured over aerial photos of the braids, the group of islands where we concentrate our efforts. George offered some suggestions based on the past couple of weeks fishing. The braids consist of low, relatively flat, grass-covered islands formed by 4 or 5 main channels and numerous smaller streams of water that bisect the islands. Last year some of the smaller, back channels held a surprising number of large fish. Convinced that it was just a matter of time until we found the rainbows, we called it a night.

The next morning dawned cold, and the camp was without running water due to frozen waterlines. It was still dark when I pulled on my waders and frozen boots. Rods and day bags were loaded in the boats, and with the sun barely visible on the east we pulled away from camp and raced downstream into the biting air. There were two boats in our small flotilla; a third when the balance of the party arrived on Wednesday.

Again, the day started slow. The hot spots from last year were producing little, and in some cases, no fish at all. By noon, we were becoming discouraged. We had found a few fish near the inlets to some of the back channels. In one case, we actually got a double; but still few reds, and a fewer rainbows. The rest of our group flew in and were on the river by lunch; maybe they would have better luck.



We continued to catch just enough rainbows to keep us interested and to harbor thoughts that at some point we would find the Holy Grail, but that never happened. We caught a few fish in the 26-27 inch class. I managed to find a honey hole that produced several nice rainbows, including a fish-of-life-time. I had taken two fish and had a couple of other hits at the downstream edge of one of the inlets to a back channel; the point where the water falls off in two directions. The fish were lying in a hole very near the downstream bank. The moment the rainbow hit I knew it was a heavy fish. It started with slow, hard head shakes and an immediate downstream run, quickly stripping line from my reel. I had been swinging a black leech on my switch rod, the drag was set just right and line was melting off the reel effortlessly when suddenly it went limp and the fish made three jumps in rapid succession. It was a thick-sided rainbow, at least 30 inches. At first I thought the hook had come out, but when the leader came back the fly was missing. The rainbow had been jumping in an effort to throw the hook. The only explanation I have for the broken leader was a deeply swallowed fly and leader raked across a tooth.



The week ended as it had started, clear and sunny and with a few rainbows. Over 4 million reds passed through the counter near Lake Iliamna, but few stayed in the river. My theory is that the rainbows followed them into the lake and then into the many rivers that flow into it. There was good rainbow fishing in the Iliamna drainage in 2009, but the Kvichak was below normal in terms of the numbers of fish. The rainbows key on the reds and depend on their eggs and flesh to survive the winter. It is always great to spend a week on this river regardless of the number of fish we catch; be assured we will return.