Live Free or Die

Kvickak 2011 The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

2011-12-03T09:08:00.000-08:00

We all tightened our seat belts as the plane circled low to land in Igiogik; it was windy, and rainy. We were surprised to have been able to come through Lake Clark pass on the way. George was waiting and we quickly unloaded the plane into his truck for the short haul to the river and the boats. It was the 3rd week in September, there were four of us and we had all fished the Kvichak previously. This was my fourth trip.

There had been heavy rain in south central Alaska for the past couple of weeks and that rain extended to the Lake Iliamna region. The Kvichak was higher than we had seen it in earlier trips. The strong westerly wind and resulting wave action increased turbidity in the lake, thus reducing visibility in the river. Normally, the Kvichak is gin clear.

It was just after noon, by the time we got to camp, unloaded and shook out our gear, grabbed a bite to eat and headed down stream to fish. The wind continued to blow and it rained intermittently. We generally drift and wade. There were two to a boat so one fished while the other rowed. We prefer three to a boat with two fishing, but our group this year was too small. The wind made controlling the boats extremely difficult. There were situations where the wind blew so hard it pinned us against the banks, making it difficult to get out into the river. Wading, we had to select locations based on our ability to cast.

We were fishing the upper portion of the braids, a network of low grassy islands that provide little shelter from wind, particularly in strong winds. The back channels provide some protection and we scouted several of those areas. We generally use three approaches: dead drifting beads, swinging black leeches and drifting flesh flies. We use beads if there are spawning reds in the river. Swinging leeches and drifting flesh are normally always effective. Between the wind and the turbidity the fishing started slow. There were more boats on the river than we could remember in prior years. One of the lodges had dropped their rates, which suddenly attracted a bunch people. Others were being flown in from outlying lodges. Many of our favorite spots were occupied and we had to settle for second and third choices. I managed to pick up a 23 and 24 inch rainbow, a couple of smaller ones and had a good fish break me off, all taken swinging a black leech.

The following day dawned calm and overcast. We started at the Beaver Alley run-out. We picked up a few small rainbows. I then hooked and landed a nice 25-inch fish that hit hard going away. Again, I was swinging a black leech. I soon hooked another good fish that came off. It started raining and blowing again around noon. We moved back to where we took fish the previous day, and I hooked another heavy fish that came off. At 4:30 we headed back to camp but as we approached the lodge we decided to run up to the head of the island to fish. We split up and I took a couple of small rainbows and had a couple of other bumps. I then moved to the backside of the island and starting fishing my way down toward the Tilt'n Hilton, an old grounded wood barge.

About 200 feet from where I had started swinging, a fish slammed my leech and and ran downstream and across the river. The fish didn't jump or surface, but just steam rolled downstream. It took all of my running line and was well into my backing as I started to follow it downstream. I wasn't sure how far I could chase the fish, I'd have to wade in front of the barge and I had no idea if I could wade in front of it. Finally, the fish turned and rolled on the surface, my first look at it and it looked big. I started getting some line back as the fish came toward me. It got into shallow water below me and I got a better look at the fish, definitely a trophy fish. I didn't have a net and it looked like the best option was to try and beach it in the shallow grassy water in which I was now standing. Joe was now behind me. As the fish glided into the shallows I grabbed it by the tail, dropped my rod, got a hand under its belly and hoisted it for a couple of quick photos. I measured the fish with rod and then slid it back into the water. It turned out to be a 29-inch rainbow.

Wednesday was windy, rainy, 50F and slow fishing. Landed two fish all day; both under 20 inches. Thursday started the same. By noon I had two rainbows under 20 inches. After lunch, at the lower end of Beaver Alley I picked up a 23-inch rainbow and another about 19 inches. We moved downstream about a quarter of mile and pulled up on a shallow, grassy island in the middle of the channel. I walked to the head of the island and starting swinging a black leech. As I worked my way down I found a small channel or hole in some relatively fast moving water where up picked up three rainbows, including a 26-inch fish. As I moved down a little further, I landed a fourth fish.

Friday turned out to be our last day to fish. It was one of the better days weather-wise but fishing was best described as slow. In spite of that I landed my second best fish of the trip, a 27-inch rainbow, a smaller one and I stuck and lost a really good fish just downstream from at the head of Blueberry Island. This fish hit very hard, made several jumps and the hook came out.

Steelhead Madness 2011

2011-05-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Terrace the usual way, a plane ride from Juneau to Ketchikan, the ferry from Ketchikan to Prince Rupert and then the Greyhound from Prince Rupert. I called a cab when I got to Terrace; this year I was staying at the Lodge at Skeena Landing and meeting three others for 5 days of spring steelhead fishing. John, from Anchorage, was to arrive in the evening on his way back from China; Erik and Steve from Denver would arrive tomorrow. The cab driver had trouble finding the Lodge, but soon we were unloading my gear and I was looking for reception area, which turned out to double as the bar. I am not superstitious, but when they assigned us to room 13 I started to ask for a different room then didn't.

A couple of trips and I had the gear safely in the room. I quickly unpacked it, set up a tying vice and organized what I'd need for the next day; John and I would start fishing Sunday and Erik and Steve on Monday. I spent the rest of the afternoon tying a few more egg patterns, and watching hockey. I had dinner and a beer. John had called from the Vancouver airport and was on schedule. He arrived at the Lodge a little early by cab from the Terrace airport. I got a brief recap of John's trip to China, and informed him that we would be fishing a tributary of the Skeena in the morning with Gill McKean of Southcoast Fishing Adventures. This was my 5th trip with Gill, John's first.

Five a.m. came early, but we were up, dressed and waiting when Gill arrived promptly at 6:00 with the rubber drift boat. The river we were fishing today was just south of Terrace, water levels were very low and there was still snow along the banks. Last year we were able to drive right up to the edge of the river to launch the boat, this year we had to drag it on the snow.

The rods were quickly assembled and I had a line in the water first. I hadn't swung a rod since last fall. I soon had a take and fish on; it felt like a cut throat but turned out to be small steelhead, one that hadn't yet been in the saltwater. John was above me and I had just unhooked my fish when he hooked up. It was a good fish, John's first British Columbia steelhead, and less than 30 minutes into the trip. We were both dead drifting egg patterns using strike indicators.

We fished the pool for another 30 minutes without a take. John's fish had stirred things up pretty good and if there were other fish they were likely spooked. I waded down stream into and through the next pool, and then to the next pool when John and Gill showed up with the boat.

In places the river was almost unrecognizable the water was so low and clear. The day was cool and overcast with no snow melt occurring. It had been a cold spring with little rain. Clear, low water is not a steelhead's friend and we fished hard the remainder of the day without another take.

Erik and Steve were at the lodge when we returned. This was their first steelhead trip and first fishing trip to British Columbia. John and I would fish the Kitimat the following day with Gill, while Erik and Steve were to fish the a lower section of the Kitimat with Darren.

We put in at the "second wash" the next morning, the upper part of the river was too shallow to fish. Gordon continued downstream with Erik and Steve and launched their boat just below our takeout point. The temperature had dropped below freezing again during the night with the result that there was very little melt occurring and the Kitimat was low and clear. We fished hard all day, and passed a few other fisherman along the way. Our luck was their luck; no one was catching steelhead. Late in the day, not far from the takeout, I hooked a good steelhead in a shallow riffle. I hooked the fish about 30 feet ahead of the boat. Gill had jumped out to walk the boat through the drift and the fish thrashed and rolled in the shallow water. Gill was now holding the boat, but wanted to walk it slowly downstream to a point where I could get out to fight. Just as the boat started downstream the hook came out and that's how our day ended. Erik and Steve had similar luck; they hooked 3 steelhead and landed one.

The next day we headed north to fish a coastal river outside the Skeena drainage. The truck was pulling a trailer with a snow machine when we pulled out. We made the obligatory stop at Tim Horton's for coffee, and a breakfast wrap -- hold the savory sauce -- on our way out of town. This would be my first time on this river and I was looking forward to the experience. The trip was about 2 hours on paved roads, then several kilometers on an old logging road; finally, the gravel ran out and we were into snow. It was raining lightly when we unloaded the snow machine for the final few kilometers to the river.

The river was gin-clear and paved with boulders the size of basket balls. Our plan was to fish down stream. With my rods assembled, I waded across the river to the opposite bank and fished the lower pool; John started in the upper pool. My run was long and wide and I methodically worked downstream dead-drifting an egg pattern. Shortly John and Gill passed me headed downstream; I could see them a couple of hundred yards below me when I saw a fish swirl behind my fly and take it. I was hooked up to a good steelhead. I tried to get Gill and John's attention, but the river was too noisy. The fish stayed near the middle of the run and was on for several minutes when suddenly the hook came out. I continued fishing to the tail-out but no more takes.

We moved down stream again, and I switched from an egg pattern with my single handed rod to swinging a pink "trailer trash" with my switch rod. I started at the head of the running working my way down stream. Near the tail out where the river turned right I saw the wake as a good steelhead tagged my fly; he came a good distance to take the fly. I was hooked up and the fish stayed put near mid-stream. I slowly worked the fish into me, but as the water shallow got shallow the fish spooked back to the middle and then to the far side of the pool. It then decided to go upstream and into my backing. The fish had been on now for over 10 minutes and I decided to put pressure on it; a dumb move. As I slowly tightened my drag the line suddenly went limp;as the fish broke me off, we watched it dart back down stream.

John was hooked up next in a short, narrow trough of fast moving water. The fish, fresh out of salt and with the current behind it, hung on the far bank for 10-15 minutes. John worked the fish to our side of the river several times and then the hook pulled out.

By now we had come quite a way downstream from where we left the snow machine and the day was getting late. It was time to start the slog back to the trail. It was raining lightly, and the walk back over wet rocks and boulders took almost an hour. Clearly high tides during the past 24 hours had pushed fresh steelhead into the river. The rain and warm weather melted more snow during the day and the ride back to the truck was often on bare ground; in a few more days snow machines would not be required to make this journey.

Kenai River, Alaska

2010-09-28T12:11:00.001-07:00

Work has been getting in the way of my fishing this year, so a business trip to Anchorage (from Juneau) was a good excuse to rummage through the upper and middle Kenai River with a drift boat and some good friends. I arrived in Anchorage Friday evening and we were up and headed for the river, in the dark, at 5:00A Saturday, along with a small army of others.

The Kenai River has to be one of the most prolific salmon and trout rivers in the world, but it is being "loved" to death, slowly, and sometimes not so slowly. Easy access to the river is part of it's curse. The river historically supported large runs of pink, red, king and silver salmon. The upper and middle river also supports large numbers of Dolly Varden and Rainbow trout. Some of the largest King Salmon in the world return to the Kenai, however, their numbers are dwindling.

I came to Alaska in 1970 and lived in Kenai from 1972-1980. I feel very fortunate to have fished the Kenai River in those years. However, during that time I witnessed the onslaught of power boats. When I arrived in 1972 we hardly saw a power boat on the lower Kenai; by the time I moved to Anchorage in 1980 the rush was on. The boats were too large, too powerful and too numerous by any one's measure. Power restrictions were ultimately placed on the motor sizes which helped some. There were only two or three professional guides on the entire river system. I tried fishing the lower river in the early 80s, was turned off by the carnival atmosphere and vowed never to fish it again; I haven't.

Up until sometime in the late 1980s few people pursued trout in the Kenai River system; salmon were the fish of choice. If you key on salmon you catch very few trout and so the "rainbow secret" remained a secret. However, since the late 80s the secret is no longer a secret and the number of anglers pursuing rainbows has steadily increased, including the number of guides and businesses catering to them. Kenai rainbows are now a big business. Cruise ship passengers have added to the fishing pressure all along the river. So, that's it for my current rant.

On this trip we decided to fish the middle river first from Skilak Lake to Bing's Landing in Sterling, and the upper river on Sunday from Sportsman's to Skilak Lake. It was foggy when we launched the drift boat for the short motor to the outlet of Skilak, which forms the middle river. Motors are allowed from Skilak Lake downstream. We started fishing almost immediately upon entering the river. Not far from the Skilak outlet you approach a large s-curve and series of gravel bars that harbor Rainbows and Dollies. We hooked up with a good fish as we approached the curve and beached the boat on a gravel bar to land it. The fog was still heavy as we spread out along the bar to fish. Over the next hour, or so, we landed several Rainbows and Dolly Varden, including what turned out to be the biggest fish of the day, a football-shaped Rainbow.

We continued our drift, alternating wading and fishing from the boat. We continued to hook a mixture of Rainbows and Dolly Varden; John hooked and landed the only silver salmon of the trip. Rainy weather resulted in high water levels for most of the summer, but the river had fallen and cleared in the past couple weeks exposing gravel bars where none had been visible. The clearing water allowed us to sight cast to rainbows in several places. We also hooked and landed a number of large Dolly Varden. With few exceptions we fished 6mm beads with strike indicators both days.

The sun was setting when we rowed into Bing's Landing just upstream from the Naptowne rapids in Sterling. A hot shower and dinner completed the day. We were up before dark on Sunday, and there was frost on the boat cover when left the motel. Between Sterling and Cooper landing the temperature dropped to 29F; it was 39F when we pulled into Gwen's for breakfast. The Plan-Of-The-Day was to go from Sportman's, near the the Russian River, to Skilak Lake.

Generally, the drift boats stack up a little in the first mile or so downstream from the launch. We picked up several Rainbows in this stretch and tried one of our favorite side-channels, but water was very low and we had no luck there. We continued to drift and pick up Dollies and Rainbows, then dropped into "trout alley". Again, the water was low, but the trout were there and we picked up several nice fish and saw a couple of 27-inch plus rainbows that were not interested in anything we had to offer. Just upstream from where the channel rejoins the main flow of the river I hooked a nice Rainbow that ran me a round the block a couple of times. I had to work to keep it out of the rapids and finally brought it to hand after a couple of failed attempts. It turned out to be my best fish of the weekend.

We climbed back into the boat and organized our gear for the float through the canyon. It can be a bit dicey in the canyon dodging boulders the size of Volkswagons, maybe bigger. The upper part of the canyon has steep gradient, with rapids, and deep swirling, pools. There are trout all through the canyon but landing one once hooked can be a challenge. We picked up a few small rainbows near the top of the canyon and the pulled out and wade through a long fast pool about halfway through. After a dozen or so casts I hooked a heavy fish. At first, I thought I hooked a rock, but the "rock" moved powerfully up stream, then further out into the pool, then downstream, rolling at the surface; it was a real good fish. It held in the current for a while I tried to for a net over the roar of the canyon. Then the fish turned and started downstream again, finally I was almost into my backing. Clearly we were going to have to chase with the boat. But just as I conveyed that message to the group the line went limp. I assumed the fish broke me off, but as it turned out the hook had come out. Oh, well! It was definitely one of the bigger Rainbows I have hooked, but it was time to push on.

At the bottom of the canyon, the river gradient flattens out. We fished most of the remaining distance to Skilak lake from the boat. We hooked and landed several good fish along the way, including a couple of doubles. In one case we had to find a point to get out of the boat to fight two fish. We waded the last few holes before the lake where we took several good Dollies and Rainbows. The sun was setting when John pulled the stater to motor to the upper Skilak Lake take-out (45-60 minute trip); it was dark when we pulled the boat onto the trailer and midnight when we arrived in Anchorage. We don't count fish, but my guess is we each landed 30-40 trout for the two days.

Steelhead Backroads: Terrace, BC 2010

2010-04-25T20:19:00.000-07:00

The Alaska Marine Highway System ferry Taku departed Ketchikan on schedule and arrived in Prince Rupert, British Columbia at 11:00P. I spent the night in Prince Rupert and took the Greyhound to Terrace the next morning; Gill McKean of Westcoast Fishing Adventures met me at the Terrace station. This was my third spring BC steelhead trip in the past four years.

I wasn't scheduled to fish until the following day, but Gill and I drove to the Zymacord River to fish for a few hours. Last year there had been several feet of snow along this river; this year there was no snow and trees were already leafing out. Spring water-levels in the Skeena and adjacent drainages were unusually low this year and ambient air temperatures had been up and down over the past several weeks. Low, clear water is not a steelhead's friend, and after 4 hours without a bump we headed home to watch hockey.

The next morning Gill and I launched the drift boat at Humphry Creek and walked it downstream to the Kitimat. It was overcast and cool, and the river was low and clear. I started fishing by drifting an egg pattern at the confluence of Humphry Creek and the Kitimat River, where 3 years ago I landed a fine steelhead on the last day of a cold week; there was no one home on this date. We continued downstream drifting, and occasionally swinging flies. By days end we each had one take, but neither had hooked a fish. No one we encountered on the river had landed any steelhead either. We pulled the boat out at Nalbeelah and it looked like this could be a long week.

That evening, John, my fishing partner for the remainder of the week arrived from Colorado Springs. I fished here with John the previous spring; I think this was his 12th trip to the area, or something like that. The week before, a group of twelve from Scotland fished these waters with disappointing results. Our hope was that rain would soon raise and color-up the water a little so that fish would push up into the rivers and out from under log piles.

In the morning, we decided to drift the Zymacord. It had rained lightly the previous night and the river had risen some. As John and Gill got the rubber boat ready I cast into the pool near the boat and immediately hooked and landed a cutthroat trout. A few casts later, and a few feet downstream I was into the first steelhead of the trip, a feisty "buck" that refused to come in easily. We photographed it and then quickly launched the boat. Two pools down stream Gill took a second steelhead on the swing.

The day remained overcast with occasional light rain, and the river continued to rise and color-up. Gill had another hard strike at Salvation pool and I landed a second steelhead before the day was over. A much better day, and we were guardedly optimistic that conditions were improving.

We decided to go back to the Kitimat the following morning and drift from the highway bridge to Nalbeelah, a long drift. It was raining lightly when the boat slid into the river and the river had risen over a foot in the past 36 hours. John was the only one to have a hit all day, we expected better given the improving conditions. There was some speculation that fish in the river may have moved up into the tributaries with the rising water and the lower river was now muddy.

Gluttons for punishment, we returned to the Kitimat and the highway bridge the next morning. It was clear and sunny when we started. About a mile below the launch point I hooked a good fish. It first struck my strike indicator, then turned a 180 and nailed my orange egg. It was a heavy fish, we were drifting downstream a good clip and it decided to head upstream; I was quickly into my backing. Gill slowed the boat as much as possible as the fish continued upstream. Finally it turned and I slowly gained line as we looked for slower water. Now the fish was near the boat as we drifted further downstream. Gill worked the boat into still water near a side channel where I was able to get out of the boat. The fish tired slowly and after two attempts to tail it we had a wonderful "buck" in our hands.

Not far downstream John had big steelhead hit his strike indicator on two successive casts. We were now anchored near the middle of the river at the head of a series of rapids. I cast to the far bank and immediately hooked a good fish, which was holding off the bow of the boat. We decided to stay put and see if John could hook a second fish. But suddenly my fish turned downstream and I was quickly into backing. As line melted away we had no choice, but to chase my fish. As Gill pulled the anchor, the fish turned upstream and with the combination of the boat moving down, the fish moving up and a big belly of line, the fish was off. The moral to that story is: it doesn't pay to be greedy.

We had drifted about another mile when John hooked a good "buck". It too struck his strike indicator first and then his dead-drifted egg. We got out of the boat on the far bank. The fish made several strong runs before we were able to coral it.

John landed a another fish at the take-out point; a small spunky female. In all we landed four steelhead and had 4-5 other takes for the day.

It was back to the Zymacord the next day with Gordon as our guide. We bypassed the first two pools that were occupied when we got there. John hooked a small "buck" on the swing at the next pool. Then as we started into the next, narrow pool a heavy steelhead immediately took my egg pattern near the center of the bucket. The pool was short and narrow, but the fish didn't try to leave the pool and unexpectedly turned into some soft water; suddenly Gordon had an impressive "buck" in the net!

We continued downstream and at Salvation pool John hooked and landed a small "hen" and then Gordon, fishing clean-up, took a much bigger fish; both were bright and taken swinging flies.

We continued the drift downstream. There is fast section of water above Austen's hole. It is relatively wide and shallow with a trough along river left and then drops though a series of rapids and ends with a sharp bend to the left at the face of a rock wall. We drifted eggs along the left bank. In less than two feet of water and just as we were about to drift over the lip and into the rapids a steelhead rolled at my fly and I was hooked-up. As we slipped into the rapids the fish wanted to stay in the pool above. I was into my backing when the fish finally turned. We pulled ashore at the inside of the bend at the bottom of the rapids where I got out and finally landed a nice "buck". This was the last fish of the day, which included sun, wind, overcast and fresh snow on the mountain tops.

I decided to fish a sixth day with John and Darren, another guide; it was back to the Zymacord. The day started cold and sunny. We reached Salvation pool by noon without any fish, although we had a couple of takes. We fished the pool hard and finally Darren took a bright "hen" near the tail-out swinging a fly. By late afternoon, now overcast and raining lightly, I finally hooked a small, strong "buck" near the bank, not far upstream from the take-out. We approached a side-stream on river right and pulled over to wade the pool. It was wide and fairly deep with dark water. On my second cast I hooked a heavy fish on an egg pattern that turned out to be the only female I took on the trip, and the third largest fish. John hooked up with another good fish right behind me, but lost it. It was getting late and we soon pulled out of river for the last time on this trip. John would fly back to Colorado tomorrow and later that evening Darren drove me to Prince Rupert to catch the ferry back to Ketchikan. In the end, this turned out to be my best spring, BC steelhead trip yet. I later learned that the rivers dropped again and that fishing fell off the following week.

Kvichak 2009 For Good or Evil

2010-01-31T20:55:00.000-08:00

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.

Steelhead Backroads: Northern British Columbia Spring 2009

2009-04-26T12:09:00.000-07:00

This year's steelhead pilgrimage started in Juneau, Alaska. I arrived at the Alaska Marine Highway System terminal in Juneau on Saturday morning April 11th to board the Taku for my 2-day trip to Terrace, BC via Prince Rupert. Generator problems delayed the departure by 5 hours and already it looked like the first day of fishing was in jeopardy! The voyage to Prince Rupert involved stops in Kake, Petersburg, Wrangell and Ketchikan.

Over the next 48 hours the ferry made up the 5-hour delay and we arrived in Prince Rupert on schedule. Customs was another matter and every "walk-on" passenger had their packs and baggage meticulously inspected. This resulted in another hour delay and a mad dash for the Greyhound bus station where I made it aboard with 3 minutes to spare; Terrace is about 100 miles inland from Prince Rupert. The trip takes about 1.5 hours and follows the Skeena River all the way. Darkness and rain prevented me from being able to see the river.

I called ahead to Westcoast Fishing Adventures and Gill met me for the short drive to his home and base of operations. This was my 3rd trip with Gill. It was after 10 in the evening when we arrived and I was introduced to my three fishing companions for the week: John (Colorado Springs/Kodiak), Harry (Phoenix/Montana) and Steve (Phoenix/California). The plan was that we would fish 2 days with each other for a total of 6 days -- I planned to fish a 7th day on my way back to Prince Rupert. On the initial day, John and I were to go into one river with Gill and Gordon, Gills brother, would float another river with Steve and Harry.

Our day started at 6:00A. Gill, John and I trucked a tracked "quad" to a point where we could unload it and start our trip to the river. We were on a virgin trail of soft, deep snow. The trip to the pool where we were to start took about 1.5 hours, including a delay to winch the quad out where it broke through the snow. The river was low but free of ice. I dead-drifted egg patterns and John swung flies. We fished the pool hard for over an hour with zero success. We then moved downstream to another hole that normally produces good numbers of steelhead, but again after an hour without a take it was clear that no fish had entered the river yet, or if they had they probably had not worked their way this far upstream. We called it a day and returned to the house. Steve and Harry had better success and both landed good steelheads and hooked and lost a couple of others.

On day two both groups headed back to river that had produced good fish the previous day. John and I fished together again. The plan was that the two groups were to start at different locations on the river but pull out at the same place. John and I started further upstream and so we would have to spend more time drifting and less time wading to make up the difference. We hadn't gone far when John hooked his first steelhead of the trip.

After landing his steelhead, John and I subdivided the hole and started working it more intensely. John took the head of the pool and I worked it from midway toward the tail-out. I continued dead drifting a bright reddish-orange egg pattern and was soon hooked-up with my first steelhead of the trip. The fish stayed on the bottom and it was a while before I got a glimpse of a good size "buck". After a couple of attempts to land it, Gordon slipped the net under a 37-inch, heavy-bodied fish.

We continued to unsuccessfully work the pool after landing the second fish and then returned to the boat to continue downstream dead-drifting egg patterns along the way. I had another steelhead make a pass at my fly a while later but did not hook-up. Finally, as we traversed a short rapids I hooked a steelhead less than 10 feet from the boat; it headed upstream first then downstream jumping clear of the water twice. I slid out of the boat and tried to work the fish into some still water near the head of the pool at the bottom of the rapids. The steelhead resisted my efforts and suddenly took off downstream and into my backing. Gordon brought the boat down to me so that I could climb back aboard in an effort to follow the fish. In the process I gained some line back and we crossed to the opposite bank of the river where I again got out of the boat. The fish jumped two more times and finally showed signs of tiring but a downed tree just below me was my next concern. We decided I could wade around the tree if the fight went that far. The fish turned into the shallow water where I was able to get its head up and Gordon slipped the net under it. The big buck measured 39 inches and had a 19.5 inch girth, my personal best!

We worked the balance of the lower pool, but neither John or I had any takes; back in the boat we continued downstream. As we approached the take-out point I hooked my third steelhead of the day as we drifted through another rapids and the fish quickly broke me off. Steve, Harry and Gill were waiting when we got to the pull-out. Harry had landed a 40-inch "hen" in the pool where I had hooked my big fish.

Steve and I fished with Gordon the following day. It was a long day and we were both skunked. I had one nice fish make a pass at my egg pattern, but did not hook-up. On day four Steve, Harry and Gill traveled to another river while John and I fished together with Gordon. This was John's best day of the trip. He started out with a 37 inch steelhead at the same pool he had taken his first fish two days ago. He followed that with a 34 inch fish that he hooked directly behind another guides raft as it passed by us. Finally, he landed his best steelhead of the trip some distance downstream, a fat 38 inch buck. It turned out that neither Steve or Harry had any action.

The next two days produced five fish; it snowed on Saturday and the river turned muddy.

My three fishing partners headed for the States on Sunday. Gordon agreed to take me to Prince Rupert to catch my evening ferry back to Juneau. On the way we fished a small coastal stream near Rupert. We hiked into the river following fresh wolf tracks. Starting upstream we worked our way down toward saltwater. After about three hours with no takes we dropped down below a set of falls and continued fishing. Finally, Gordon hooked a good steelhead. It ran downstream and over another set of falls. With a strong current helping, it took several minutes to tail the fish, a bright hen. We fished some more then moved further downstream to a large, wide pool. I started at the head of the run dead-drifting a small, pale orange egg pattern. About halfway down the run a large steelhead struck at my strike indicator. Gordon saw it come from across the pool. On the next cast the fish again came for the strike indicator. After several more casts, nothing. I then changed to a larger, red egg pattern and on the second cast I hooked a heavy fish. It was on for less than a minute when the hook came out. We worked the pool for another 30 minutes, but time was running out and we had had to head for the ferry terminal.

The ferry departed Prince Rupert on time at about 6:00P. The return trip to Juneau took 2 days; time to dry out, clean up the gear and catch up on sleep.

Back To The Kvichak Sept 2008

2008-10-12T06:53:00.001-07:00

The Kvichak River just doesn't let you down. Me and seven other hard-nosed rainbow fisherman headed to the Kvichak on September 22nd. The Kvichak drains Lake Iliamna into Bristol Bay at the head of the Alaska Peninsula. We gathered at Lake Clark Air Service at Merrill Field in Anchorage for the 1.5 hour flight to Igiogik. We departed Merrill Field at about 8:30A, the eight of us and our gear, in a twin-engine Navajo Chieftain. All of the provisions for this 5-day trip had been shipped in advance of our departure. As with last year's trip we would be staying at Blueberry Lodge about 2 miles downstream from Igiogik.

It was noon by the time we arrived at the lodge, got a briefing on the lodge rules, a fishing report from George, the lodge owner, and unpacked and rigged our gear. Four members of the group fished the Kivchak last year and four were "newcomers", all are experienced Alaska fisherman. Most of us live and work in the greater Anchorage area except for Walt, who now lives in Estes Park, Colorado, and Joe from Ketchikan, Alaska.

The initial report was that over 4-million sockeye had migrated through the area earlier, but pushed on into Lake Iliamna; as a result there were not many "reds" in the river. The rainbows feed on the eggs and flesh of the spawning salmon; the fact there were not many sockeye in the river was not good news. George reported that rainbows were being taken on black leeches, flesh flies and beads. Undaunted, our three boats pulled away from the lodge and fanned out into the river; we fished 3 to a boat. We drift and wade. When drifting we take turns at the oars; when you catch a fish you rotate to the oars.

It had been sunny when we landed in Igiogik, but clouds moved in and a light rain beagn to fall as we started our first drift. We fish the "braids" an area about 3 miles downstream of Lake Iliamna where the gradient of the river flattens out and the channel splits and runs through a several parallel channels between low, flat islands covered with deep grass and brush. Additional back channels meander through the islands; many are too shallow and narrow for boat access and can only be accessed by wading.

We hadn't drifted too far when John tied into our first rainbow of the trip. He hooked the fish at the entrance to one of the back channels, a spot that had been very productive last year. We rowed the boat to shore to be in a better position to fight and land the fish, which turned out to be a nice 25-26 inch rainbow.

We then fanned out along the edge of the river to swing flies. John moved upstream and into the mouth of the back channel. He hadn't be there long when he hooked a second and stronger fish that ran downstream with the current and quickly had John into his backing. After several minutes and few attempts to net the fish a beautiful 27-inch rainbow was brought to hand. Clearly John's trip was already a success.

We landed one or two more smaller fish and then moved to another area of the river. The fishing action slowed, picking up a fish here and there. At the end of the first day we had landed a few nice rainbows but in spite of the fast start we had to fish hard for the rainbows.

Our trip started on a Monday the 22nd and was to end at noon on the 27th, 4 full-days and two half-days of fishing. We encountered the full gamete of weather during our stay: heavy overcast with rain, occasional wind, sun, and frost one morning. The second day was mostly overcast. We were on the river each morning as the sun came up at about 8:00A. At the braids our boats fanned out to different "favorite" spots. The river was higher than last year. This summer was wetter than previous years and like many other rivers in southern Alaska water levels were higher. The Kvichak is clear with mostly a gravel or cobble bottom; there are a few sandy areas. You can see the bottom clearly in 10 feet of water.

Some of the spots that consistently produced fish last year seemed barren this year. It always takes a day or two on a river to dial things in, even a river that you think you know. We started exploring some of the narrow channels on foot and began finding rainbows, including some 30-inch plus fish that proved to be very spooky. There seemed to be rainbows congregating at the inlets and outlets of these channels. We landed multiple fish in some locations if you could keep from "stirring" the hole up too much.

Talk around the dinner table was about the side or back channels, spooky fish and the lack of salmon in the river. Black leeches, "Willie Nelsons" and flesh flies seemed to be producing fish.

The next morning we mixed the boats up to give everyone a chance to fish with different people. I had been fishing with John, a colleague from work with whom I fish with regularly and with whom I fished the Kivchak last year, and Chris from Eagle River, Alaska; this was his first Kvichak trip. On this day I was with the lodge owner George and Joe, a friend from Ketchikan who I fish with in southeastern Alaska; this was Joe's first trip to the Kvichak. In addition to being an excellent fly fisher, there isn't much George doesn't know about the Kvichak. As we started through one of the first drifts in a slow moving part of the river George instructed me to cast just above some weeds to the right of the boat. The fly hadn't drifted 10 feet when the rainbow hit and ran upstream. The fish ran back and forth across the river as qwe continued to drift. We reached a shallow spot where I slipped over the side of the boat to fight the fish in the water and to allow Joe to fish on downstream as I brought my fish into shore; a nicely colored male. Suddenly Joe had a nice fish on just downstream from where I landed mine; not a bad way to start the day.

We spent another half hour or so fishing the area without a hit and then moved on. We crossed back into one of the main channels of the river, drifted some and then pulled into the entrance of one of the back channels. We immediately saw several rainbows in the first pool and George and Joe both picked up fish. I had changed to my switch rod and was swinging a Willie Nelson in the main channel of the river, letting the fly move across the opening to the side channel when I had a very hard hit as my fly approached the end of the drift; it was a heavy fish and it ran downstream. George had returned to the boat and was available if we had to chase the fish, which now had me into my backing -- 120 foot spey line. The previous day I helped John with one of his rainbows when he couldn't stop it, by getting back into the boat and following it. Finally, the fish turned and started moving upstream. I could tell by the head shakes it was a good fish. I worked the fish into the slower moving and shallower water in the mouth of the channel and then suddenly the fish was in front of me. George quickly netted what turned out to be my best fish of the trip, a thick, 27 inch rainbow, and a personnel best.

George and I then fished the side channel downstream, the channel varied in width from as narrow as 15 feet to maybe 50 feet and in depth from a 1 foot to as much 6-8 feet along fast moving cut-banks. George picked up several nice fish including a 26 inch brightly colored male and I landed a couple as well. We then returned to the boat and drifted the entire channel to its outlet back into the main channel, but the lower portion turned out to be disappointing, much slower moving and generally not productive.

Late one afternoon Joe and I were fishing at the outlet of one of the channels that we refer to as beaver alley. We were on the far side or right bank of the river when suddenly a large bull moose appeared in the deep grass on the island directly across from us. The moose spotted us and was curious. It came toward us and then decided to move away, continuing on his original path toward the main channel of the river which he swam effortlessly across and then up onto the far bank of another island further downstream. We could still see the bull going away well over a half a mile below us.

Friday, our next to the last day dawned cold and clear. This was the first morning that I had to pull on frozen wading boots. As we headed downstream I sat with my back to the wind and my hands stuffed into my wading jacket to keep warm. We started by fishing the side channel near beaver alley. John picked up a couple of rainbows on beads and I saw several large rainbows that showed no interest in anything I put in front of them. These fish had obviously been the center of other fisherman's interest in the weeks preceding our arrival.

We then moved downstream to a back channel where John had picked up some good fish two days ago. There were 4 or 5 rainbows in the first pool, but again they were uninterested in anything we had. John and Chris quickly headed down the path. I swung some flies at the entrance to the channel and had one bump, but then switched back to my 8 weight, single handed rod and a flesh fly, and started fishing downstream in the side channel. The path along the right bank was 5-6 feet above the water, and a deep channel undercut the bank I was standing on. I stayed as far back from the edge of the bank as I could and still be able to watch my drift. I cast toward the head of the hole and watched the fly tumble along in the current. On my 2nd or 3rd cast I a dark shadow rose up from the depths and grabbed at the fly, but missed it; or at least it didn't "taste" the hook. I repeated the cast and again up came the shadow, I could see the thick, distinctive back of a rainbow and this time it took the fly solidly; I was hooked up. Now what? I was not in a good position to fight the fish and I was alone. The fish ran up and down along the hole which was maybe 50 feet long, and I chased it from the path along the bank in thick grass and brush. I called for John but heard nothing. After a few minutes I decided I was going to have to do this alone and the only chance I had was to get into the water. I moved downstream in spite of my concern that the fish might rocket into the next hole where I had no idea what I might be confronted with there. Finally I slipped into the water downstream of the fish at the bottom of the hole. I reached for my landing net and tried to work the fish toward me but it was too strong and it was clear that under the conditions I was not going to be able to net the fish. After several more minutes I got the fish into shallow water near a gravel bar downstream of me and I was able to work it onto the bar. I quickly unhooked the rainbow, snapped a couple of pictures and slipped it back into the water; another beautiful 27-inch Kvichak rainbow.

I soon caught up with John and Chris in a large pool where two channels came together and where two days ago Vaughn had hooked and lost a 30-plus inch rainbow. We picked up a few small rainbows today and a bunch of greyling drifting beads (salmon egg imitations). In particular, John landed several nice greyling in one "glory hole".

We returned to the boat and decided to head back to the one of the main channels on the left side of the braids to drift. The sun was bright and beginning to throw long shadows. We had hadn't as much luck drifting as we had the previous year but we wanted to give it a fresh try. It wasn't long before we hooked into a good rainbow, and then another and another. In the course of about 2 hours we landed 8-10 nice fish dead drifting flesh flies. We were still catching rainbows when 6:00P rolled around and we headed back to the lodge. Another boat came in just behind us, but the third boat still hadn't arrived by 8:00P, our curfew. Finally, at about 8:15 the third boat pulled into the bank and clearly they had a good day. In fact, on the "last cast" of the day Gary hooked and landed the best fish of the trip, 30.5 inch rainbow! It was clearly the best day on the river and unfortunately we had to be off the river by noon and on our way to the airstrip for the 2:00P pick-up tomorrow.

Everyone was up and on the river at daybreak, our final few hours on the Kvichak. It was a clear sunny morning. Our group headed back to where we had finished up the previous evening, it took us a while but we dialed things in again. Unfortunately, the clock ran out as we were into the fish; the rest will have to wait for next year. The following are some random and depature photos from the trip:

We shall return...............

Silvers August 2008

2008-09-01T07:09:00.000-07:00

It was Saturday morning and Mike and I had planned to fly in his plane to the west side of Cook Inlet south of Anchorage in search of Silver Salmon. This day dawned like a lot of others this year, cool and rainy but good enough to fly. I met Mike at his home on the hillside in south Anchorage and we drove to Merrill field where we loaded the plane, gassed up and headed west and then south over the mouth of the Susitna Rivers.

As we flew south along the shore of Cook Inlet the weather improved somewhat. After about an hour we reached the mouth of the Kustatan River and we turned to follow the river upstream. The plane is equipped with large "tundra tires" that would allow us to land on a gravel bar or the bank of the river when we decided where we wanted to fish. We flew low and slow along the course of the river looking for salmon. As we came around one bend a large brown bar stood on the edge of a gravel bar, a good sign that there fish in the river. We also saw a couple of planes and people fishing in the lower reaches of the river. The stream narrowed and the vegetation along the banks of the river became more dense the further upstream we got and finally mike turned the plane back downstream as we searched for a place to land.

Finally, we agreed on a spot where the river narrowed below a bar. We circled to land on the right bank of the river but as we did I spotted something dark in the brush and suggested we look at it again to see if it was a bear; it turned out to be moose bedded down and so we landed.

We quickly pulled our gear from the plane, set up our rods and headed through the brush to the river. We waded down stream and out to the island we hand seen from the air. The water was knee deep between the bank and the island. At the downstream end of the island the river was about 60 feet wide between where we stood and the opposite (left) bank. Mike moved downstream and I worked my way up stream; we were separated by about 100 feet, or so. The idea was to dead drift flesh flies and streamers: cast upstream and across, allow the fly to sink and drift with the current, strip the fly back near the end of the swing and then repeat the process.

Thirty minutes went by quickly with no takes. We changed flies occasionally looking for the right combination. Finally, Mike had a fish on, almost to him, but the hooked pulled; he thought it might have been a rainbow. Another, 30 minutes and still nothing. Then WHAM, something took my fly at the very end of the drift, almost directly downstream from where I was standing. The fish charged up stream, my line rooster-tailing through the water. I wasn't sure what I had but it was fairly heavy fish. Then the fish charged downstream, very close to brush along the bank opposite me. I put pressure on it to keep it out of the brush, and when I did the fish came at me. I backed up as fast as I could, reeling as fast as I could, but I had a pile of slack in front of me and was sure the fish was off. Suddenly the line tightened and the fish headed down stream, still on! I worked my way down and up onto the bar. We did not bring a net and so I planned to beach the fish. Now I could see that it was a nice silver, bright, just out of saltwater. With Mike's help we got the fish onto the bank, snapped a picture and tossed it into the tall grass for safekeeping until we headed back to the plane.

Soon I had another fish on, a silver. It took my fly almost in the same spot as the first one and fought a similar battle. It wasn't long until we had it on the bank and in the grass next to the first salmon. Now it was Mike's turn. He hooked into a silver below me. The fish had more room to run where Mike was standing and it took advantage of that. After about 10 minutes we landed our third fish of the morning. It was now after 11:00A and so we agreed to fish for another 20 minutes and then head back to Anchorage. We both hooked and lost one more silver in the allotted time, then gutted the three fish we had and headed back to the plane.

It wasn't long until were airborne and headed north, back to Anchorage. As we flew over the mouths of the Sustina and Little Susitna Rivers we spotted large pods of Beluga whales pursing schools of salmon headed upstream into those drainages. It had started raining soon after we took off; the rain continued all the home.

Steelhead Back Roads, The Situk River, Alaska, April 2008

2008-04-27T20:45:00.000-07:00

On the morning of April 16, 2008 Jason, Mike and I flew from Anchorage to Yakutat, Alaska to try our luck on the Situk River for spring steelheads. Spring was late coming in south central Alaska and there was still a lot of snow on the ground when we arrived in Yakutat. Our plan involved staying in a cabin at Yakutat Lodge, and renting a vehicle to travel between the lodge and the river. There are two points of access to the Situk, one near the mouth and the other at nine-mile bridge. After checking in and being assigned a cabin we sorted out our gear,changed into our waders, rigged our rods and drove toward nine-mile bridge. The weather was cold, overcast and by the time we reached the river snowing.

We split up at the bridge, Mike and I going upstream and Jason downstream. We fished for a couple hours in increasingly heavy snow. With daylight fading Mike and I headed back to the bridge not having had any takes. We fly fish exclusively and release all fish. The Situk River is single hook, artificial lures only. Both of us dead drifted egg patterns using strike indicators. Jason was at the bridge when Mike and I returned and had hooked two steelhead at the tail-out of the pool immediately below the bridge and landed one.

The next morning dawned cold and clear, in the low 20s. We had decided to return to the nine-mile bridge and hike upstream. A compacted trial along the left side of the river lead us to a point upstream where the trail crossed over to the opposite bank. The three of us waded into the river and fished up and slightly downstream of the crossing. After a short time Mike an I followed the trail upstream for about 15 minutes and then fished several pools working our way downstream. The cold air caused the line guides to freeze quickly and so it was necessary to frequently clear the ice. We worked our way downstream toward the crossing and encountered Jason near a pile of logs lying almost completely across the river. It turned out that he had hooked a large steelhead in small pool at the base of a stump that broke him and had seen a second fish. After several minutes without a take we all headed back downstream to a whole just below the crossing. There were two fisherman already at the hole when we arrived and unfortunately we had to stand there and watch them hook three steelhead in about 15 minutes, one of which they landed. We worked past them and then proceeded to fish downstream toward the bridge.

The Situk is a relatively narrow river with numerous log piles in, or partially in, the water and lined on both banks with brush and alders. For that reason it can be a difficult river to fish and even more difficult to land fish if they decide to seek refuge under a log pile or amongst roots along the banks. We waded down the middle of the river working seams along the banks where the steelhead like to hide in the roots and brush that hangs down into the water. The water was about 36F and clear. We came to a large log pile at a 90-degree bend in the river and saw steelhead under logs in places that were impossible to fish. We were back to the bridge by noon without a take except for the fish that broke Jason's line.

Next we drove to the mouth of the river in the hope of intercepting new fish entering the river. The area we fished is an estuary and therefore affected by the tides. The afternoon was warmer and we fished for several more hours without a take. Drift boats which put in at the nine-mile bridge started showing up around 4:00P and the reports were not promising; they too had seen and hooked very few fish. We ended the day batting zero for three rods.

Our strategy for day three was to return to nine-mile and be the first to the hole where we had seen three fish hooked the previous day. We were up early and on the trail by by 6:00A. It was even colder day. We got to hole and waded out into the river between or dozen or so logs in water. The water felt even colder on this day. There was only room for two people to fish the hole so Jason elected to move upstream to the log pile where he hooked up the previous day. I was in the water 5 minutes when my guides were iced up and my reel froze completely. Mike was having the same problems with his gear. Jaison returned and the three of us rotated in the hole for almost two hours without a take.

Cold and disappointed we headed downstream. Mike hiked the trail back to the bridge and Jason and I waded the river. At the downstream log jam where we spotted fish the day before, Jaison found 3-4 large steelhead in a deep pool off the root end of a large spruce tree in the water. Not for the lack of trying, Jason was unable to interest the fish in the various flies he offered. We had been fishing primarily egg patterns, beads and occasionally black leeches.

Mike was at the bridge when we got there and had spotted several steelhead in the deep hole downstream of the bridge. The three of us tried a variety egg patterns and leeches without success. Fishing a deep hole directly under the bridge Jason hooked up with and landed an 8-10 pound dark, hold-over steelhead. He then moved to the right bank of the river at the boat launch and hooked and landed a nice chrome 10-12 pound female. Mike hooked what seemed to be another good fish but the hook pulled out. We were now three days into the trip and I still hadn't had a single take. After another 30 minutes or so without a hit we decided to return to the mouth of the river. It was late in the afternoon, we fished for maybe another hour then called it a day.

Mike left us on day four to return to Anchorage and then to Denver on business. Jason and I decided to return the mouth of the river and hike upstream as far as possible. We followed the trail on river-right as far as it went. It took us about 1.5 hours to reach the end of the trail. The air was noticeably warmer and the skies where still cloudless. The river made what looked like an S-curve and we started fishing in short pool near the midpoint of the bend. The sun was just clearing the tree tops when I lines hit the water. There was large jumble of logs downstream of the pool. We fished the hole together for a while and I then wandered downstream. I was out of sight long when I heard Jason call. Moving back upstream I could see that he was hooked up. The fish fought hard for a several minutes before we tailed a bright 10-12 female steelhead. We then switched locations and I fished the upper pool and Jason moved downstream.

Less than 15 minutes passed and I heard Jason again. This time I scurried downstream to find him with a big steelhead. At first he thought he had snagged the bottom until the fish started to move upstream. Jason worked to keep the fish out of brush along the bank. Suddenly the fish started to move up stream toward a downed tree in the water and in an effort to keep the steelhead from the snag the fish broke off. With that we started working our way downstream.

We traveled about 100 yards and the reached a point too deep wade. We climbed the left bank of the river and then worked away through the woods in deep snow along a long straight pool. Near the midpoint of the pool the height of the bank allowed us a good vantage from which to spot fish and we see 20-25 steelhead scattered about the pool and there had to be others which we couldn't see. Heavy brush made it impossible to fish from the side of the river we were on. We decided to work our way toward the lower end of the pool, then across the river and upstream to a point directly across from where we had observed the fish.

Our position left us in waist deep water amongst a nest of large trees. It took us a while but finally we located the fish near the far bank directly across from us. I had two takes in row and then finally hooked a good size steelhead. I struggled to keep it out of the trees on our side of the river when it turned and ran toward the far bank and then began a series of surface rolls suddenly broke me off. Jason and I hooked 10-12 steelhead in the hole over the next a couple hours landing 4 or 5. I was able to bring two good steelhead to hand, my first of the trip.

The last day of the trip dawned cool and sunny. We had a plane to catch in the evening so this would be a short day on the river. The plan was to retrace our path from yesterday. After breakfast at the lodge I went to start the truck to warm it up only to find a flat tire. Panic set in as I looked through the truck for the tools to change the tire. The jack, lug wrench and spare were all there but no jack handle! After some frantic phone calls we were instructed to use an old van parked in front of the lodge, with the keys in it. We quickly piled our gear into the van and headed back to the mouth of the Situk.

It was long before we were back to the hole where things started happening yesterday. Jason fished the head of the pool and I fished the tail-out. We expected the action to start quickly but it didn't. We tried various egg patterns and leeches but nothing. Finally, after jet boat plowed through the hole on it's way upstream Jason tagged a nice bright female steelhead. Unfortunately I had left my camera at the cabin and Jason's camera fogged up so there are no pictures of our final day of the trip.

We continued to work the pool and the one directly below it. Another fish was hooked in the lower pool but not landed. After about an hour we headed downstream to the pool that had been so prolific the day before. We crossed at the same point and took up our same positions between the jumble of logs but the result was disappointing. The fish were there but the bite was off. We made dozens of casts but no takes. Finally, after about an hour I hooked a good fish. At first I though I had snagged something on the bottom but finally realized it was a steelhead. I was using my 8/9 weight switch rod which has a lot of backbone but the fish was pretty much having its way with me. We had decided the day before that would be very difficult to tail a big fish in our position in the river and that we might have to take it downstream to a gravel bar on the opposite side of the river. After bring the fish into us three time only to have it charge back out into the river I decided to move the fish downstream and to cross over to the opposite bank in the process.

As I started to work down river the fish came with me; I was it waste deep water. Part way to the bar the fish crossed over to the opposite bank and started to take advantage of the current. I river makes a long sweeping bend and gains velocity at this point. Now my fear was that the fish would make a run and that I might not be able to follow it. I put pressure on the steelhead and gained some ground. Jason positioned himself to tail the fish when I got closer. Finally, after another 5 minutes or so the fish tired and we able to land it, a nice chrome 13-14 pound female. The fish was winded and we had to work with it a bit but suddenly it charged back into the current and was on its way.

By now it was time to head back to the lodge. On our way out we started seeing fresh steelhead in the river, groups of 6-10 fish. At one one point we saw 7 or 8 fish holding in about 2 feet of water. Unable to pass up a chance at another steelhead, Jason went down the bank below the fish and, acting as I spotter, I directed him from high up on the bank. After much coaching and several casts Jason's "aeropuff" drifted through the middle of the pod and suddenly the water erupted as one of the fish took the fly. Just out of salt water these steelhead have a lot of spunk. Jason landed the fish as quickly as possible and then took one more steelhead before we hand to start moving again.

We returned to the cabin to pack, shower and check in at the airport. Yakutat Lodge is next to the airport terminal and so burgers and beer at the lodge finished off a great trip. Tired, we both slept on the short plane ride back to Anchorage.

March Maddness, San Juan River, NM 2008

2008-03-08T07:56:00.000-08:00

This trip to the San Juan River had been in the planning for some time. An old friend from Alaska, now living in Estes Park, Colorado agreed to meet me at Navajo Dam, New Mexico (there is actually a post office) for a couple of days fishing; I drove up from Silver City, New Mexico. Chris, with Fisheads, was to be our guide for both days. We arrived on February 29th and fished March 1st and 2nd. The plan was to drift the first day and wade the second.

I arrived first, checked into the lodge and then drove down to take a look at the river, which was flowing well above any level I had seen in the past. Further, Simone Canyon was dumping reddish-brown muddy water in the San Juan, the result of local snow-melt. The muddy flow colored the north side of the river downstream for hundreds of yards. I later learned that 3000 cubic feet a second (cfs) of water was being released from the dam to make room for what will be a significant runoff when snow to the north begins to melt in a couple of months. At times, up to 6000 cfs is released, but the high flows normally occur later in the spring and early summer.

Saturday dawned cloudless, blue sky in all directions. We launched the drift boat around 8:30A. There were quite a few boats being launched. Visibility in the water was about 2 feet. We started fishing a yellow egg attractor and a #20 orange larva using standard nymphing techniques, a small split shot about 18 inches above the attractor and a strike indicator 5-6 feet above that. When the water is clearer 6-7x tippets are needed for these leader-shy fish, but with the low visibility 4-5x tippets work fine.

Fishing was slow for the first hour or so then picked up. Because of the high flows there was a lot of "stuff" in the water. We started picking up rainbows and browns -- about one brown for five rainbows -- around 10:00A. There was another lull in the fishing around 2:00P, but overall we had a good day. The weather stayed sunny and the temperature approached 70F. My fishing partner out fished me on day one; he got the most and biggest fish, a 19-20 inch rainbow, and lost an even bigger one in the closing moments of the day.

The temperature dropped over night and it was below freezing when Chris picked us up Sunday morning; it was also windy, a bad omen. The plan was to wade the pools just below the dam. The parking spot is on bluff above the river and there is switch-back path down to river-level that alternated between mud and ice. Once down at river-level we hiked along narrow channels of water running through 10-12 foot high brush. The channels result from water overflowing the banks due to the high flow; so at low flow these are dry. We even encountered rainbows in some of these knee-deep, 2-3 foot wide channels, in some cases we were 200-300 yards from the main river when we encountered them.

The water in the San Juan River is a about 40F year around due to the fact that it comes out of the lake. We spent most of Sunday waste-deep in that 40-degree water, with overcast skies, wind and in the afternoon snow. We used the same flies and techniques as the day before, but from the river rather than a drift boat. Luckily, in the morning the wind was blowing upriver, which made casting less difficult than if it had been blowing downstream. It was not long after I wet my line when I hooked my first fish, but then lost it. I was fishing on the backside of a brush-covered island in the river; my fishing partner was on the opposite side of the same island but the high brush made it impossible to see one another. Chris Taylor worked back and forth between the two of us all morning. I had several other strikes and then hooked and played a a nice rainbow, had it to the net, but lost it.

Chris returned and had me work downstream from where I had been fishing. Shortly after he disappeared to check with my fishing partner I hooked a good fish. It came to the surface initially, stripped line as it headed downstream with the current, and then rolled again on the surface. I could see that it was fairly thick-sided rainbow. I was by myself and so would have to land this fish solo. I got the fish over to the bank along the island where the water was slower and I had a better chance of slipping my net under it. I got the fish close and could see that it was at least 20-inches and was quite wide, a nice rainbow. The first attempt at netting it the fish was out of reach and then turned and took some line. I worked it back again and closer to the bank this time. I finally slipped the net under it, removed the hook, took a couple of quick photos in the net and then released it. It turned out to be the best fish of the trip.

We returned to the truck for lunch and to warm up. I removed ice from my guides all morning and that situation continued for the remainder of the day. We moved up stream after lunch and immediately got into some nice rainbows in driving snow. The fish were stacked up in about 4 feet of water from just near the bank out about 30 feet, or so. They continued to prefer the yellow egg pattern. After an hour or so we moved down stream just below the "cable hole" and got into another bunch of rainbows. On about 5-6 casts I hooked 5 trout. Snow continued to fall and the wind didn't let up; by now it was late afternoon and we were ready to call it day. The hot shower back at the lodge felt very very good. I don't plan on returning to the San Juan until late next fall.

Gila Trout

2008-02-28T15:53:00.000-08:00

The Gila trout is native to a small area of west central New Mexico and an adjoining area of Arizona in the White Mountains. It is a cousin of the Apache Trout. Early settlers referred to these trout as "yellow bellies" due their coloration. The US Geographical Survey collected specimens of the Apache trout in 1873 and referred to it as as Colorado River cutthroat trout. The Apache trout have fewer, larger spots than the Gila trout.

By 1967, when the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Serivce listed the Gila trout as endangered, the trouts range had been reduced from several hundred miles of stream to about 20 miles in the Gila Wilderness and Aldo Leopold Wilderness, both in New Mexico. This resulted from loss of habitat, over fishing (in spite of being closed to fishing in the 1950s) and cross breeding and predation by non-native trout. The loss of habit is attributed to cattle grazing, agricultural practices and fires resulting from human activity.

Following the trout being listed as endangered, USFWS began a program of stream restoration, removing non-native trout, restoring and repairing riparian vegetation, and restocking restored streams. However, the Center for Biological Diversity
filed a 60 day notice of intent to sue the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service due to a wholly inadequate Gila Trout Recovery Plan: "The plan completely ignores the effects of grazing on trout habitat. It only provides for down-listing,not de-listing of the species. And finally, the plan focuses on reintroducing Gila Trout to individual headwater streams, whereas the great weight of evidence indicates that only protection of entire watersheds will guarantee continued existence of the Gila Trout."

The species is now more secure than it was in the 1970s, having been moved to 10 new streams, though populations and habitat are still far below those originally established. A limited fishing season has been established in the Gila Wilderness.

Steelhead Back Roads, Northern British Columbia Fall 2007 -- On The Edge of Maddness

2008-02-24T16:28:00.000-08:00

I had just returned from four great days of rainbow fishing on the Kvichak River in Bristol Bay, Alaska and already I was thinking about fall steelhead fishing in British Columbia. I was booked for a spring 2008 trip with Gill McKean of West Coast Fishing Adventures out of Terrace, but something was nagging me that I should move the trip up 6 months. I called Gill to see what he had booked and how late he thought we could get fish. We talked about going north and fishing the Bell-Irving and Meziadin Rivers out of Stewart; the best time for me was late October. Gill had a potential client from Sweden that was also interested.

The Swedish client wouldn't commit and in the end I decided to fish by myself for 5 days starting October 23nd; the trip was set. I was to fly to Terrace out of Seattle, Gill would pick me up at the airport and we'd be on our way to Stewart, and that's the way it happened. We arrived in Stewart as it was getting dark, dropped the jet boat off at a friends home and checked into our hotel. After a couple of beers I was ready to call it a night, it had a been a long day and tomorrow would be here soon.

The next morning I met Gill in the restaurant. It was raining hard and as we ate breakfast and waited for our take-out lunches it turned to snow; it started to snow hard. It was still dark when we placed our gear in the truck and headed out of town. There is a long uphill grade as you leave Stewart, a pass, and the snow increased as we gained altitude. Plows had been through some time during the night but driving treacherous even with the big 4-wheel drive turbo diesel. At one point a grizzly crossed the road about 150 yards ahead of us; seemed late for him to be roaming around.

At the junction with 37 we turned south along Meziadin Lake; we were headed for the confluence of the Meziadin and Nass Rivers. The Meziadin is a short river that drains Meziadin Lake, it is clear whereas the Nass River carries a heavy load of silt. At an old logging road we pulled off the highway and dropped down toward the river. It continued to snow and the heavily snow laden alders were bent across the road in front of us. Finally, we reached the end of the road and I could see where the two rivers came together about a 100 yards from the truck.

It was long before the rods were rigged and we were following a path to the river. The water level in the Meziadin was low as we reached the bank of the river and started out into the current. I followed Gill as we worked our way toward the middle of the stream us above where it flowed into the Nass; the clear water of the Meziadin in stark contrast with the muddy Nass. We looked over the pools and Gill instructed me to cast to the seam between the two water colors. I was using my 8/9-weight switch rod with an egg pattern and strike indicator. I watched the line hit the water and followed the strike indicator as it followed the line between the two rivers and then suddenly the strike indicator went under and I was hooked into a good steelhead, on the first cast! At first the fish hung in the current but suddenly it came at me and I struggled to get the slack out. The fish came to the surface, rolled and my line went limp. I just wasn't ready for a fish on the first cast, and I blew the opportunity and I knew it. On the other hand I thought, wow, there must be a lot of fish here.

An hour later, I still hadn't had another take. We moved around a little, and changed egg patterns but nothing. Gill decided to move upstream so we hiked back to the truck retracing our drive in and then turning onto another logging road and down to a bridge that crossed the river. The river below the bridge fell-off rapidly in a series of rapids a rather sharp bend to the left; above the bridge was a long, wide pool 4-6 feet deep that looked promising. I moved up the left bank and out into the pool and started drifting egg patterns. A half hour later I returned to the truck to eat lunch.

After lunch I crossed the river and took a position on the right bank below the bridge. The river narrowed here and the current was fast. There was a deep seem in front of me and I cast upstream as far as possible to allow the egg to sink before hitting the hole. There was not much room to move down stream due to overhanging vegetation and the manner in which the bottom dropped off. I must have made 20-30 casts when suddenly I had a strike and hooked the fish. It had the current behind it as line started to peel off my reel, the fish jumped clear of the water and threw hook. It was over almost as fast as it started. I continued to work the hole for a while and then moved up above the bridge. The day ended steelhead 2, fly fisher 0.

The next day started cold and clear. We retraced the previous days footsteps and started at the confluence of the rivers. After a hour or so, not a take. We tried swinging some flies and still nothing. I went back to egg patterns and finally had a strike almost at my feet, it felt like a good fish but suddenly it was off and I was batting 0 for 3. After another 30 minutes or so and no take we moved back upstream, fished above and below the bridge without success and then had lunch. Tracks in the snow suggested that others had been to this spot earlier in the day. After lunch we crossed the bridge and drove to what looked like an old trail that paralleled the river. It was well above the river. Finally, we dropped of the trail and into the woods. The trailed ended up across from where we had been fishing in the morning. There was a large deep pool on this side of the river and it was immediately clear that if a hooked fish was allowed to leave the pool there would be no way of stopping it the turbulent water that rimmed the area. That didn't turn out to be problem because after an hour we didn't a single take decided to hike back to the truck and return to Stewart.

On day three we decided to move up the Casiar Highway to the Bell-Irving. This required the jet boat which we retrieved after breakfast. Cold and clear again as we pulled out of Stewart. As we headed north on the Casiar the mountains were heavy with fresh snow. The drive took about 1.5 hours on extremely icy roads; at one point a tractor-trailer lay on its side in a ditch. We came to a spot where the Bell-Irving was close to the highway and pulled off the road and down to the river at spot that appeared to be used to launch boats. Another guide with 3 clients pulled in almost behind us. They had fished this section of the river earlier in the week and landed one fish for 3 rods. They launched first and headed downstream, we followed and went upstream. The river was fairly low and log jams eventually blocked our progress. We beached the boat and waded upstream. We fished various holes for over an hour without any takes and then returned to the boat. We drift and fished from the boat, pasted the launch point and continued downstream. We saw several fresh bear tracks along the way.

We fished several stretches of river downstream without success. The clear morning turned to overcast and remained cold with occasional flurries. Discouraged we returned to the truck, pulled the boat from the river and motored back to Stewart.

That evening Gill and I decided to return to Terrace and do some late season coho fishing and to try for steelhead in streams along the way . The next morning we pulled out of Stewart and headed south. Me made three stops along the way but I luck didn't change; no steelheads. We pulled into Terrace late afternoon had and early dinner and I checked into a motel.

The next morning Gill picked me up a daybreak and we headed west toward Prince Rupert. Highway 16 follows the right bank of the Skeena River. At the Exchamsiks we pulled into a parking lot and launched the jet boat under the bridge. For almost an hour we ran up the valley which is lined by spectacular peaks with hanging glaciers and waterfalls. The weather was heavy overcast and raining.

The Exchamsiks snakes back and forth up the valley. Visibility in the water is excellent although the water is the color of dilute tea. The air temperature was considerably warmer than the past 4 days. We saw several groups of coho; the plan was not to stop, but to fish our way downstream. We went as far up the river as possible by jet boat and then got out to wade in a long deep pool. We tried a variety flies and caught one Dolley Varden and several white fish on egg patterns but no coho. We moved downstream where we spotted some coho earlier and I switched to clouser and finally hooked a good coho and then a second one shortly thereafter. The fish were still fairly bright considering how late it in the season. I hooked and released one more coho, a dark male, before we called it day and the end of my first fall steelhead trip.

I was disappointed that I had hooked 3 steelhead but failed to bring any to the net and Gill was generally disappointed in the number of steelhead we encountered. Commercial fishing near the mouth of the Skeena River earlier in the season had taken it's toll on the summer/fall steelhead return with the result that many guides had moved north in search of fish. That combined with evidence that individuals were using bait in the Meziadin (illegally) may have impacted that fishery, but for whatever reason the fish just weren't there. In spite of all that it was a fun trip and I will definitely do it again.

Kvichak Magic 2007

2008-02-24T16:26:00.001-08:00

Probably the best rainbow trout fishing in the world is found around Bristol Bay, Alaska near the head of the Alaska Peninsula. The rainbows exist because of the salmon that return to spawn in the rivers that feed into Bristol; they return by the millions. The rainbows thrive on the eggs, flesh and frey of the salmon. The Kvichak is one of best salmon and rainbow rivers in the region; it flows from Lake Iliamna to Bristol bay, a distance of about 60 miles. The best rainbow fishing is in the "braids" near the head of the river just downstream from the village of Igiugig.

Several members of AlaskaFlyFish.Net traveled to the Kvichak the last week of September 2007 in the pursuit of rainbow trout; I was one of the group. Planning for the trip started in the fall of 2006. The plan called for 4-8 days of fishing, essentially two 4-day windows; I was in the first nine-man group. We stayed at Blueberry lodge, which is situated on an island about 2 miles downstream from Igiugig. The braids are about 2 miles below the lodge.

Our group (nine) flew from Anchorage to Igiugig, a 1.5 hour trip. We departed Merrill Field at daybreak in a Navajo Chieftain, flew south and west across Cook Inlet,and then up through Lake Clark Pass. The Pass is the preferred route to Lake Clark when weather permits. The flight through the pass is up narrow canyons well below the surrounding peaks. Rivers flow through the canyons and we saw several brown bears on the gravel bars and in the water in their search for salmon. There was a lot of turbulence in the the canyons. The weather was overcast and flew through several rain squalls. We flew along the north shore of Lake Clark, over the village of Nondalton and then along the north shore of Lake Iliamna. As we approached the community of Iliamna the plane turned out across the lake toward Igiugig. As we approached Igiugig the plane made a wide, slow turn, I could see the Kvichak, braids to the south and the village on the south side of the river. The plane touched down and we taxied to the terminal where we were greeted by the owner of Blueberry Lodge and another member of our group that had flown in the day before in his private plane. It was raining when we climbed out of the plane.

Our gear was unloaded from the plane and placed in a waiting pickup truck. The group walked from the airstrip to the river where the gear was loaded in waiting boats for the 20-minute trip downstream to Blueberry Lodge. We unloaded the boats, picked our rooms and started getting ready for the afternoons fishing; the rain continued. The lodge owner lodge gave us a brief orientation, showed us the braids on an aerial photo and discussed what flies were working for the rainbows; beads had been working earlier but flesh flies were starting to be more productive. After a hurried lunch we were anxious to get on the river.

We used three boats with three to boat; this allowed two of us to fish while one rowed when we drifted. The boats raced downstream one behind the other; I fished with John and Mike. The water is crystal clear with a bottom predominantly of gravel, cobbles and some sand. As we approached the braids the boats split up in different channels of the river. It was over cast and raining when we started our first drift. We all started by dead drifting beads, a 6-8mm bead held in place about 2 inches above an egg hook, then a couple of split shoot about 18 inches above that and finally a strike indicator near the top of the leader. These rainbows are not leader shy and so 8-13 pound tippets are commonly used. We made a couple of drifts around the top of an island to a spot where there was a steep drop off. We picked up a couple of greyling but no rainbows.

From there we moved to a narrow channel between the island and the main bank of the river and waded several pools as we worked our way downstream. Toward the bottom of the channel where it re-entered one of the main channels we connected with several nice rainbows. These fish hit hard and fought hard. One of the their tactics was to race downstream and then do a 180 and come back at you jumping. During the next few days several nice rainbows gained their freedom that way!

After the hole quieted down we moved back toward the top of the braids and the main channel of the river and started a drift. The sky remained dark and threatening The river was 6-8 feet deep with a fairly strong current. We hadn't gone far when John hooked into a good fish and Mike eased the boat toward the bank so that John could get out to fight it. The rainbow took John almost into his backing, using the current to it's advantage. Slowly John worked the fish into shallower water and Mike was able to get the net under it. John definitely had the hot hand on day one!

We climbed back into the boat and continued our drift downstream. This was a day of exploration and learning the river. In the remaining hours several more rainbows were landed and we felt pretty positive about our prospects for the next few days. We only saw a couple of other boats that afternoon; this late in the season, the few lodges in the area are in the process of closing and so we had the river pretty much to ourselves. That evening at Blueberry Lodge we learned that that two 29-inch rainbow had been landed by an individual in one of the other boats.

Over the course of the next several days the weather was cold, clear, windy, rainy, sometimes all in one day. Rainbows were taken on beads, flesh flies, leaches, sculpins and streamers. The biggest rainbows included a 31, 2-29s and 28 inch fish. Numerous fish were landed between 25 and 27 inches. Pound for pound these are the hardest fighting freshwater fish I have ever caught. The following is a photo montage from the trip, it enjoy it:

San Juan River, New Mexico

2008-02-24T16:25:00.001-08:00

There's a spot in northern New Mexico called Four Corners, where you can stand on four states at one time: New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and Utah. Not far from there, near Aztec, New Mexico, the San Juan River begins it's journey to the Colorado River at the base of Navajo Dam, a large earthen dam completed in 1963. The dam impounds snow melt from the Colorado Rockies just a few miles to the north. The 400 foot high dam was constructed to provide irrigation water to the region.

The San Juan River below Navajo Dam holds about 80,000 trout, rainbows and browns, in the first 4.5 miles. It is one of the best tailwater fisheries in the United States and is designated quality water. The average trout is about 17 inches long, but there are plenty of trout over 20 inches. Trout thrive in the river because of the water released from the dam is 40F year around and as a result you can fish the river 365 days a year. I fished the San Juan on December 26th in 2007 and had a 20-fish day.

The first time I fished the San Juan was truly a learning experience; something I had never done before. The preferred technique is nymphing with a variety of #18-#22 midges and emergers, although dry flies and even wooly buggers can be quite productive. I use a 8'-6", 5 wt rod with a floating line, a 10-12 foot 5X tappered leader and a 6X tippet; these fish are very leader shy. Two flies are attached to the leader, an attractor, and then a second fly about a foot below that. Small split shot are pinched onto the leader about 18 inches above the attractor, and then a strike indicator is positioned several feet above the split shot; the exact position of the indicator depends on water depth. The idea is to get the flies down on the bottom and drifting naturally, which means absolutely no drag and a lot of line mending. You can fish from a drift boat or wade; I like to do both.

The relatively cold water and the presence of lots of insects insure rapid growth rates in the San Juan. I read somewhere that a San Juan trout has to consume about 3000 midges per day just to maintain its weight, even more to gain weight. If you do the math that means that each trout is taking a midge every 30 seconds! If you take a sample from the stomach of one of these trout it will generally be chock full of midges and other small insects.

At times there is a lot of fishing pressure on the San Juan and for that reason I prefer to fish it on weekdays between October and March and I have never had a bad day on the river, whatever that means. One might think that fish in a river like this would be "beat up", but I have found the fish to be in very good condition. In the first 4.5 miles of the river fishing is strictly catch-and-release with barbless hooks; although that is the only way I fish everywhere I fish.

Steelhead Back Roads, Spring 2007 Northern BC

2008-02-23T04:12:00.000-08:00

My first experience fishing for steelheads was in the spring of 2007. A steelhead is a sea-run rainbow trout. They return to fresh water to spawn and then, unlike a salmon which dies after spawning, they go back to saltwater. In North America, steelhead can be found from northern California to Alaska; they have also been introduced to the Great Lakes. In the Pacific Northwest many of the steelhead are hatchery fish, but in British Columbia there are still good runs of wild steelhead. Alaska steelhead are wild and can be found as far north and west as Kodiak Island and the Alaska Peninsula. The largest steelhead can get to be 40 pounds, although 10-20 pound fish are more common.

I chose northern British Columbia to try my luck at steelhead, specifically the area around Terrace. My route to Terrace was from Ketchikan by ferry to Prince Rupert, where I cleared customs, and then by Greyhound Bus to Terrace. Spring was late coming and the coastal mountains along the Alaska panhandle and British Columbia had about 140% of the normal snow pack. I arrived in Prince Rupert on March 30th . Had I arrived a day earlier I would have had to wait for an avalanche to be cleared from the road between Prince Rupert and Terrace, which follows the north bank of Skeena River. The Skeena river is rimmed by steep mountains, in many places almost to waters edge. It has an enormous drainage that includes some of the most famous steelhead rivers in North America, such as the Babine, Kispiox, and Bulkley.

Prince Rubert is the only connection to the Alaska Marine Highway System on Canadian soil. Historically, Prince Rupert was a commercial fishing center but now has a major port connected to the rest of Canada by the Canadian Northern Railway. It is about 150 km (90 mi.) from Prince Rupert to Terrace. In Terrace I was met by Gill McKean, my guide and owner of Westcoast Fishing Adventures. I spent the next six days fishing with Gill and staying at is lovely home in Terrace. The names of the rivers and places we fished are unimportant, but they were all within 100km of Terrace.

It seemed appropriate to start fishing on April Fool's day. It was clear and cold (-2C) when we left the house in the morning. We drove to the point where we launched the pontoon boat after lowering it down a steep bank onto a gravel bar. It was my first look at the river, which was gin-clear and about 150 feet wide at this location. The bottom of the river was carpeted with rounded cobbles. For the most part, the section of the river that we fished had a gravel or stony bottom, although there some areas where the bottom was sandy. The water depths varied from a foot or two to holes that were 10-15 feet deep. I classified the gradient of the river as moderate.

The plan was to do a combination of drifting and wading throughout the day depending on where we were in the river. I rigged my 8 wt. single-handed rod with floating line, a 12 foot leader and a 13# tippet. My plan was to dead drift egg patterns in a manner similar to nymphing. This required a couple of split shot above the egg and a strike indicator about 10 feet above that. Gill tied the egg patterns using a barbless #4 egg hook with a snell loop to hold the yarn-like material that formed the carefully trimmed egg. Over the course of the week we used a variety of colors and combinations of colors, mostly pinks, white and chartreuse.

I took the front casting platform and Bill, a friend of Gill's, took the back as we pushed out into the current. It was a gorgeous sunny morning, but cold for this time of year. Most days it never got warmer than 3C. The idea is to get your egg down near the bottom and drifting naturally in the current. This requires constantly mending line to prevent drag. We navigated along seams and drop-offs, sometimes along cut banks between long pools. The river meanders quite a bit. The heads and tail-outs of pools are particularly good holding points for steelhead. We reached a long straight run of water and pulled out to wade. The pool was less than 100 feet wide, 2-5 feet deep and over 500 feet long. Bill took the head of the pool and I moved toward the center. Bill switched from eggs to swinging a bright, pink streamer with his spey rod while I continued to drift egg patterns.

It was not long before Bill tied into a good fish. It stayed at the upper end of the pool and I was too far down stream to see what he had, but it wasn't too long before he worked a bright, 20-pound, trophy male steelhead to shore, lifted it from the water just long enough for Gill to snap a couple of photos and and then gently eased it back into the water. Not 15 minutes passed when Bill hooked a second fish almost in the same spot as the first one. This turned out to be a bright chrome female, not as large as the male but still a very nice fish; these were probably a mating pair. The following photos are Bill's two fish.

By now the upper part of the pool had been pretty stirred up and we continued to wade downstream. Finally, I had a couple of takes just below where a side stream entered the main channel from the opposite bank and hooked what turned out to be a nice cutthroat trout, not what we were after, but beautiful specimen that at least broke the ice. In the end, we caught a couple of more cutthroats and then broke for lunch. During the week we caught other cutthroats but no rainbow or dolly varden trout in this river. The following is a photo of me holding a typical cutthroat; notice the stony bottom and clear water.

In the afternoon I hooked a steelhead from the boat partway through a fast section of water. The fish immediately headed upstream as we continued downstream and then suddenly it was off. I never saw it but it felt like a good fish. I had one more take that day, which I failed to hook, and we saw another nice steelhead from the boat as we drifted downstream. At about 5:30P we reached the takeout point; the the sun was low on the horizon and I could feel the air temperature starting to drop. We had to pull the pontoon boat across a gravel bar, into a slough and then another 100 yards or so to the where the truck had been shuttled during the day. With the pontoon boat loaded on the pick-up we headed toward Terrace and that ended my first day of steelhead fishing, a great day inspite of not having landed one!

That evening Frank from Tucson arrived in Terrace. We had never met, but for the next 5 days we would fish together. Frank had fished with Gill before, but in the fall, never in the spring. There are basically two migrations of steelhead a spring run and a fall run; some rivers have both. Like Bill, Frank is a spey caster. The next morning was cold and clear and the river had obviously dropped during the night, which wasn't a good omen. Steelhead are sometimes spooked by clear water and bright sunlight with the result that they head for cover, deep holes and log piles. This isn't fatal when you're fishing with spinning rods and fresh eggs, but it makes fly fishing very difficult. Frank and Gill swung flies and I continued to dead-drift egg patterns. We had a couple of takes during the day but no steelhead were hooked.

The third day dawned even colder, it was -3C when we started our drift. Over night the river had fallen another six inches; more clear, cold weather and not a take all day. The forecast for the next day was for more cold clear weather and that evening it was decided to move to another river the next day.

On day four we hiked into a small coastal stream; it was -4C when we headed west from Terrace. We hiked into the stream from the road. It was a much smaller flow, with dark water, characteristic of British Columbia and southeastern Alaska rivers. The color comes from organics. The stream was 30-40 feet wide, had a relatively steep gradient, with steep side slopes formed by exposed bedrock. The dark water and bedrock, often slippery, can make wading treacherous. Several hours fishing resulted in one rainbow. Clearly the steelhead had not moved into the river. By the time we returned to Terrace the temperature had risen to 6C and it was cloudy; hopefully it would stay warm and create snow melt to cause the rivers to start rising.

When I woke the next morning there was a mixture of wet snow and rain and for the first time since I had arrived in Terrace the temperature was above freezing. After breakfast we headed back to the where we had started the week and clearly a melt was underway. The water at the launch point had some color, which is what we had hoped. We quickly rigged up and pushed off. A short distance downstream we pulled out to wade a straight section of relatively fast water that was about 2-4 feet in depth; we had three rods fishing. It wasn't long before I hooked a fish, it took line and put a pretty good set in my 8 wt rod; hopefully this was a steelhead. Finally, as I worked the fish into shallow water it was clearly a small male steelhead, not the trophy I had come for, but my first steelhead and hopefully a sign of better things to come. After a couple of photos I released the fish and all three of us grabbed our rods with renewed enthusiasm.

Not much time had passed when Gill hooked a really good fish. It put a good set in his heavy spey rod and was clearly a big fish. The fish stayed in the middle of the river hugging the bottom. For several minutes the fish didn't move much up or downstream. Slowly Gill gained line, and after maybe 10 minutes the fish was in knee-deep water and appeared to be large chrome female. I don't think Gill realized how large the fish really was until he looked at the photographs that evening; our guess is 18-pounds. It was taken on a pink streamer while my earlier fish was taken on an egg pattern. Things were looking up!

We fished this section of the river for a little longer before getting back into the boat to work our way down stream. We fished the hole hard where Bill had caught 2 big steelhead a few days before, but except for a couple of cutthroat trout, nothing. At about mid-afternoon, I was in the front of the boat as we approached a spot where a side-stream entered the river. There was a fallen tree at the upstream side with branches pointing downstream into the current. As we neared the tree Gill instructed me to drop my egg directly off the tip of the branches. My fly hadn't been in the water 30 seconds when the strike indicator went under; I quickly pulled up and was hooked into a heavy fish. At first, it came to the surface, which confirmed it was a good size steelhead. Then the fish decided it wanted to go upstream toward the fallen tree. I didn't want to put too much pressure on it and break it off, but I also didn't want wrapped up in the tree. Gill slipped over the side of the pontoon boat and worked it toward the middle of the river to give me more fighting room. Finally, the fish turned and started to come toward us and then headed downstream. By this time we were in shallower water, almost on the opposite side of the river, and Gill had me slide over the side so I could fight the fish from shore. Several more minutes passed and now the fish was in shallow water near my feet; it was a nice bright female. Gill tailed the fish, a 15-pounder, we took some photographs and then released it; as far as I was concerned my trip was complete.

By now it was fairly late in the day and so we continued downstream. I had one more strike before we reached the takeout but did not hook-up.

The following morning was rainy and 6C; this would be our last day and Frank still needed a steelhead. We reached the run where I had gotten my first steelhead the previous day and we spread out; I took the head of the run near the far bank. After about 15 minutes I had a strike and it felt like a good fish. I worked it for a short period and then suddenly I realized I was hooked on the bottom, but well above the point where I had felt the initial strike. Finally, I concluded that I did, in fact, have a fish on, but it had taken me upstream and in the process my line got under a rock and the fish broke off. For the first time we saw another angler ahead of us on the river.

After a while we continued our drift downstream, reaching the pool where Bill had taken the two steelhead. Gill took the head of the pool, Frank the middle and I started just above where a side-stream entered the river, and where I taken a couple of cutthroat. This time I fished further downstream, around a bend and then along a cut bank with fallen trees along the edge. The water was the color of weak tea, having darkened some over night from the snow melt and light rain. I tossed my fly just upstream of one of trees, mended the line, and watched the strike indicator pass along the edge of the log. As the strike indicator passed the point where the log disappeared into the water it suddenly went under and I set the hook in a heavy fish. I could feel it shaking its head, it came to the surface and rolled and then went under again. I was out of site and sound of both Frank and Gill, and so whatever was going to happen here was going to be all my doing. I wanted to keep the fish away from the tangle of trees on the far bank and tried working it toward the middle of the river. It started to come my way. I was hoping that either Gill or Frank would show up, for moral support. Suddenly, my line went slack; the hook pulled out. As I started upstream toward the boat I saw it coming toward me and slipped over the side and back into it when it reached me. We fished the remaining section of the pool where I had just missed the steelhead, but without any luck.

It was starting to rain harder now, and getting darker and foggy; the trip was almost over. Frank was at the tail-out of a large pool, probably the last one we were going to fish. The river made a sweeping bend at the tail-out then dropped quickly through a series a rapids into another pool blow, forming a kind of S-curve. The current was very strong at the tail-out. Frank was casting toward some brush in the water on the opposite bank and letting his fly sink and swing just above where the rapids started. He must have made 20-30 casts when suddenly I heard a yell. At first I thought it came from above me and I looked toward Gill. Then I heard Frank holler again, and this time I looked downstream and saw that he was hooked into a good fish, which was rolling and thrashing on the surface. Frank had been waist-deep in the river when the fish struck and he was trying to back toward the bank and keep the fish from going into the rapids. By now Gill was aware of the situation and yelled for Frank to let the fish run, that we would follow it to the lower hole, with the boat if necessary. It was about that point that the fish broke off, so close yet so far. We drifted a few more holes as we worked our way toward the take-out, but it was pretty dark by now and clear that the trip was over.

In the Beginning

2008-02-22T08:51:00.000-08:00

To someone not familiar with the state, New Jersey is often associated with buildings, concrete, asphalt and other urban infrastructure; believe me there is a lot of that there. However, I grew up in New Jersey surrounded by farms and wood lots and learned to hunt and fish at an early age, along with many of my friends. As kids we fished with spinning rods and worms and became quite proficient at catching sun fish, rock bass, cat fish and trout in the Raritan River and the many small streams that feed it. As I grew older my fishing techniques got more sophisticated and eventually I became interested in fly fishing; I even learned to tie my own flies. It was in high school that I decided I wanted to go to Alaska and that desire stayed with me through college. Following my graduation from the Pennsylvania State University in 1969, I joined the the Navy, became a SeaBee and, as luck would have it, in 1970 I was stationed in the Aleutians at Adak, Alaska. I left Adak in 1972, was discharged from the Navy and immediately returned to Kenai, Alaska to take an engineering position.

Kenai is located on Cook Inlet at the mouth of the Kenai River, one of the most prolific salmon rivers in the world. The Kenai River has large runs of King, Pink, Red (sockeye), and Silver (coho) Salmon. The Kenai Kings are the largest in the world and fish over 90 pounds have been caught. The salmon also support large numbers of wild rainbow and dolly varden trout that flourish on the salmon eggs, flesh and fry. I am fortunate to have fished the Kenai in the 1970s before the onslaught of power boats and guides. Most of my fishing in Alaska from 1970 to 2000 was with spinning gear and focused on salmon.

A few years ago I returned to fly fishing and since then the vast majority of my fishing has been for rainbow trout and steelhead (sea-run rainbows), exclusively with a fly rod and all of it catch-and-release. Yes, sometimes there are easier ways to catch fish than with a fly rod, but then sometimes it is the only way to catch them; however, there is not a more challenging or satisfying way to catch fish. So, I have rediscovered fishing and there is no better place in the world to do that than Alaska.......................long live the wild rainbow!