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The Moods of Mexico
by Pudge Kleinkauf
You may not think of Mexico as moody, but this year she was. Especially when it came to water temperature, she stubbornly refused to provide the warm water fish needed to move into the azure waters of the Sea of Cortez. As a result, we failed to encounter the marlin and dorado that we usually see on our annual trips.
Instead of those usual species, however, we did battle with the gold- spotted sierra mackerel of the legendary teeth. It's been several years since we've caught sierra on our annual March safari to Mexico, and I didn't realize how much we'd missed them. Their slashing strikes and eager takes had more than one of us squealing with delight. Of course, those razor-tipped teeth of theirs also had us wailing with dismay when a fly got sliced off and the line suddenly went slack. Sierra are one of the mackerel that is good to eat, and we took full advantage of that fact. Some days we kept a couple of fish for fresh ceviche (that's a marvelous combination of finely chopped peppers, onions, fresh fish and spice which is absolutely incredible on chips), and some days we kept a couple for beer battered fish fingers to have with our evening margaritas. We also encountered our special friends the skipjack tuna again this year, and more than once, all three rods on the boat were bent at the same time playing these eager and scrappy metallic-sided beauties. "Gosh, someone remarked as we were releasing a fish, "I can't believe this guy only weighed ten pounds. It felt like at least a twenty pound king salmon while the fight was on." That was a typical "skippy" living up to the reputation of his species. Jack cravalle, the wide fish with the black spot behind their eye, proved cooperative on several different days. They, too, are eager to take a fly when we find a school. Red and pink seemed to be their favorite colors this year, and that had us emptying fly boxes like mad trying to come up with anything in those shades. One windy afternoon, another "jack" an 8lb amberjack, also joined the party. The fishing was often hard, but we kept reminding each other that, "they don't call it catching." |
Moody Mexico also sent us some of her winds. Just like last year, one of our groups couldn't fish at all one day so we hopped on the 4-wheelers and traveled up into the mountains to one of the area's freshwater springs. Along the way we braved some steep, curved and deeply rutted trails, but seeing the view out to the ocean, the groves of elephant trees, and the ficus trees that grow right out of the rocks made up for it.
Both huge and tiny creatures also brightened our days. Several times we cruised by swimming sea turtles and the gray whales breached and blew right around the boats. One group followed a cow and her calf for some time. Whenever we sat on the patios outside our rooms, exquisite humming birds would flit by as they fed among the blooming boganvellia, hibiscus, and orange blossoms and stopped to drink at the bubbling fountains that dot the hotel grounds.
We'll be back next year, same time, same place. It's just too wonderful an escape from winter to miss. The dates will be March 8-14 and 15-21, 2001. We'd love for you to go along.
Pudge |
It was another wonderful year. The little sand crabs scuttled into the surf when we trained our flashlights on them during an evening walk on the beach, and each day the sunrises vied with each other to see which would provide the most dramatic photo op for us.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
This year's Brooks River trip was very, very beary as well as very, very fishy. Because the summer's run of sockeye (red) salmon rivaled that of last year's spectacular trip, there were nearly as many bears fishing as people.
When we first arrived, the reds were just starting to show up in the crystal-clear Brooks River, so there were just three or four bears around. As the week went on, however, we began to see bears scouting the River for fish several times each day. Two adolescent bears (thought to be siblings and referred to as "the twins") were having a great time chasing fish and each other. They finally seemed to learn the herding technique used by their elders to drive a school of fish into the shallows where they were more easily caught. Then, a pounce or a grab with their great paws usually produced the reward of a flopping fish. Bears catching fish at the world-famous Brooks Falls was another spectacle we enjoyed. Hiking to the falls on the newly completed elevated walkway took less time than ever this year, and we made the trip at least once each day. There, one can see bears standing patiently waiting for the salmon that must jump the falls to continue their spawning journey. The snapping jaws of an 800 lb brownie await those fish that successfully negotiate the natural barrier. Bears that can't get a spot on top of the falls, snorkel for fish in the plunge pools below. It's quite a show. There were lots of fish to be caught. Salmon surged up the river in great swirling, frothing masses only temporarily deterred by the pontoon bridge spanning the River just before it enters Naknek Lake. Fishing below the bridge, where it is legal to keep one fish a day, and where shallower water makes it easy to sight fish, proved to be fantastic. Hook-up after hook-up after hook-up provide lots of opportunity to practice playing a fish on a fly-rod. "I've sure learned to let go of the wind knob when the fish is running," Joanne said. "Sure glad you showed me how to palm the reel instead." As the days went by, we ended up breaking off more and more fish as bears appeared. The Park Service Rangers from Katmai National Park require that people keep a 50 yard distance from the bears and that they break off a fish they may be playing when bears arrive on the scene. Those rules help minimize bear-people confrontations and insure that bears will not learn to associate people with fish. |
Although both people and bears get salmon-fever at Brooks, there are fish other than salmon to be caught. This year, feisty rainbows were extremely cooperative on small dry flies due to clear water and some good hatches of caddis and mayflies. As more and more sockeye enter the River, however, the rainbows become harder to find and often harder to catch, except on dries. All to often, a sockeye will take a wet fly intended for a rainbow and end up breaking the leader. Nevertheless, we persist in order to match wits with the wily bows of Brooks. One warm (and very buggy) afternoon, we landed over a dozen gleaming beauties.
There are some pretty unique places in Alaska, but none of them can beat Brooks. The combination of a great setting, great fishing, and bears in their natural setting, is something you'll have to see for yourself. We'll be waiting for you next year. (While at Brooks this year we also did some filming for an up-coming segment of the new public television series, Alaska Magazine Television. Call your local public television station to see if they're airing the series yet. If not, encourage them to do so.)
Pudge |
Some trophy-size arctic grayling also call the Brooks River home. Until the salmon choke the River, they, too, await our dry flies. A size 12 elk-hair caddis usually does the trick. It did for Winnie. "My first fish on a dry fly," she announced proudly. But, this was not just any grayling. It was a spotted, sail-finned beauty nearly as long as my arm. She'll be spoiled from now on.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Bad weather but great grayling fishing nevertheless! Would you believe new snow on the mountains nearly every morning while we were at Tangle Lakes this year?? It was rain at the lower elevations where we were, but boy, was it ever cold. Folks were heaping on all the clothes they'd brought along and wearing several layers in the tents at night. A glass of wine or a cup of tea by the fire were particularly welcome those cold evenings. It hardly seemed like early July.
The water was high due to the rain and the continuing snow run off, but surprisingly clear just the same. The fish could see our size 12 elk hair caddis just fine. They didn't have any trouble with our size 12 gold-ribbed hare's ear nymphs either. These two consistent producers for arctic grayling never fail us. The hatches of caddis usually started by mid-morning and, when the air warmed in the afternoon developed into some serious bug activity. Several good hatches of mayflies also rewarded our persistence and then a size 12 or 14 parachute adams did the trick. As usual there were lots and lots of tiny six to eight inch fish falling all over themselves to get at our flies. Some were so small they couldn't begin to get the flies in their tiny mouths. Thankfully, the bigger guys were also around and very cooperative if the fly drifted to them correctly. We worked on our dead drift techniques as well as our line and leader mending to get the correct drift. When we got it right we almost always were into fish, many up to fifteen or even sixteen inches. Grayling are the slowest growing of all Alaska's sport fish, so a fifteen or sixteen inch specimen is a good fish. |
One afternoon we got lucky and enjoyed a great afternoon fishing the mouth of a lovely creek as it poured into one of the myriad of lakes in the area. As we hiked up river we encountered two different fresh piles of bear scat. After that we made lots more noise as we went along. But no encounters of the big brown kind to report. Only some lovely fish with aqua sides and fuscia-tipped fins.
Our last morning one of the group even landed a seventeen inch fish with the unique split dorsal fin. The huge, sail-like dorsal of some large grayling occasionally split in the middle, and biologists don't really know why. But, we know that these are extra special fish that we handle with extra special care. It wasn't all rain and wind and snow on the nearby mountains. We had a few hours most days where the temperature rose into the 60s and a couple of warm languid evenings when the bugs were so bad they had us all running for our head nets.
Grayling may not be Alaska's largest fish, but they're certainly among its most beautiful. The Tangle Lake habitat seems somehow to be the perfect setting for them. Why not join us and see for yourself next year.
Pudge |
Like always, it was a super trip, no matter what conditions we faced. The wild flowers were particularly prolific this year, and on more than one occasion we broke out the flower book to look up species that no one could name.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Alaska's record setting July rains this year had swollen both the Talachulitna River and the Skwentna River into which it drains by the time we arrived for this year's schools. Our favorite fishing hole at the mouth of the Tal was virtually unfishable at the beginning. Nevertheless, we took advantage of the high water to get up-stream in the boats to places that we usually must reach on foot. The water was much clearer there.
Fishing these upper stretches of the river helped us connect with some of the Tal's gorgeous rainbows holding behind the king salmon that had entered the river late in June. Even though most of the time we fished salmon egg imitations, our dry flies also brought both iridescent arctic grayling and fat and sassy rainbows to hand. "I love fishing with the dry flies. Seeing the fish take the fly is so exciting!" someone remarked. "And the casting motion is so lovely and graceful," someone else added. Sue and Liz, our very first mother/daughter students particularly enjoyed that as they'll be doing a lot of dry-fly fishing when they get home. The rainbows were great, but everyone was anxious to get a shot at the three species of salmon we knew were in the river. Pink, chum and lots of sockeye were finning slowly at the river mouth, and it was there that we had to fish for them. As the water slowly dropped we just had to fish from the boats to reach them. We generally don't focus much on fly casting from a boat in our schools, but this year there were a few days when we had no choice. These women were more than up to the challenge. As we would locate small windows of visibility in the murky water, the sheer numbers of waiting fish spurred everyone's persistence. "Why are most of the fish we're catching pinks (humpies) or chum (dog) salmon? There seems to be a lot of sockeye (red) salmon down there too. Don't they like our flies?" They asked. "Since most of the chums and pinks aren't good to eat any more, how can we get more sockeye?" "Sockeye are the hardest of all the salmon to catch," I told them. "They were plankton eaters when they were young and are thought not to have the same chase-instinct as other salmon. For that reason, only the occasional sockeye will take your flies. Just keep casting and watch your line for even the smallest movement. Set the hook when you notice anything that is different." |
Sockeye really aren't picky about what fly they take, they just want whatever it is to come to them right at mouth level. When we achieved that, we'd have fish on (at least momentarily.) Very soon, though, the arriving silver (coho) salmon more than made up for the un-cooperativeness of the sockeye.
Silvers have a great chase instinct, and barrel-down on a rapidly stripped fly with amazing speed. There was seldom a question about when a silver was on the line. Whether it was bright, sparkly orange or fuscia crystal chenille flies or large, dumb-bell eyed maribou and flash creations, the silvers chased them all. Mother nature took pity on us and finally brought better weather. The river cleared quite quickly then and we could once again fish both salmon and trout from the bank. That's when we worked on various casting methods, practiced heaving the large, weighted flies that take salmon, and got used to the ever-present split-shot that weighted our leaders.
Pudge
P. S. --
P. P. S. -- |
By the end of the schools, everyone was casting both the 5-wts and the 8-wts with ease and confidence. "How wonderful to spend so much time on the water, and to be learning so much as well," Didi wrote upon her return home. Like all our students, she promised that she will be back.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
J
ust like the fish, we had a smorgasbord of women fishing this year. An Alaska Railroad conductor, a carpenter and retired flight attendant, an Alaska Native Corporation executive, and a housewife trouped off together on our annual drive/camp trip that samples a little bit of everything Alaska has to offer.
We started off early in the morning at a great little river north of Anchorage that gets four out of the five types of Pacific salmon-chums, pinks, silvers, and kings. We were hoping to see some silvers, but settled for lots and lots of chums and pinks. It was a beautiful day and it didn't take long for all four of the 8-wt rods to be bent with fish. Many of the chums were in the 14-15 pound class, and they gave everyone a real work-out. Patience was the key as the big fish just hugged the bottom of the river daring us to try to match our strength against theirs. Eventually we prevailed, but not without some pretty sore arms. The pink salmon were even more cooperative than the chums and easier to deal with. They especially liked the fuscia and orange and green fish candy flies we offered them. Their head-shaking antics belied their four and five pound weight, and they didn't come in easily either. By mid-afternoon we pushed on to our next destination on the west end of the Denali Highway where arctic grayling awaited us. At the lovely little Brushkana Creek campground we set up camp and started dinner. Unfortunately, the rain storms that plagued Alaska all summer suddenly paid us a visit and made fishing that evening less attractive. We did hike down the river after dinner checking out water levels in the Creek and locating spots where the wild blueberries were ripe. We set up the 5-wt rods but decided to make it an early night with an early start in the morning. Next day wasn't much better as far as the weather went, but we set off right after breakfast. Fishing was tough even with nymphs but we did manage to hook a few little beauties. When the air warmed a bit the fish were more responsive to dry flies. We fished down our favorite stretch of water and up at the bridge, where everyone caught fish, and then decided to head back down the highway to get campsites at our favorite lake-side campground. |
It was still raining as we made camp, but the canopy on Lynn's camper saved the day. It was nice to eat all warm and dry and watch the fire while protected from the rain. The only problem was that the canopy proved nearly impossible to retract when we tried to leave.
Next morning it was still raining but we broke camp and headed out float tubing for rainbows. It was just misting as we launched the tubes and paddled off to an area that usually proves very productive. Just a few fish were interested in our olive size 10 gold-ribbed-hare's ear nymphs, but that was better than the response to our dry flies, which bombed completely. The highlight of the day was the pair of common loons that dove and swam right under our tubes. Often they were so close they actually brushed our legs. As they'd emerge from the water with velvet heads dripping, they'd sit and converse with us and each other, completely unconcerned about our presence.
In spite of a week-end of mostly bad weather, a tent that sagged on one side, and some uncooperative fish, we had a great time. A little bit of salmon fishing, a little bit of grayling fishing, and a little bit of float tubing for rainbows makes for quite a smorgasbord. It's a great way to try out fly fishing and some fun fishing spots not too far from Anchorage. Come on along next year. Pudge |
The loons on this lake are known for taking a fish right off an angler's line, and they watched us intently to see if we were catching fish. We waited in vain for that performance. Maybe we just weren't catching enough fish!
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Since the Aniak was high and dirty, and fishing had been almost totally non-productive, this year we made a switcheroo and headed off to Hook-M-Up Fishing Adventures' "upper camp" on the Kuskokwim River instead.
The Kuskokwim is Alaska second largest river, so it's huge and always silty. But two of its tributaries lie within close distance to the camp and provided us with great alternatives to the Aniak. Hook-M-Up's rustic but comfortable "upper camp" is situated high on a bluff overlooking the River with white wall tents on raised platforms, a sauna, a funky semi-outdoor shower with hot water (after the guys chop wood for the boiler), and a great main building housing the kitchen and dining area and lots of space to relax and tie flies. Best of all, there's a great little river with lots of silver salmon not five minutes away. Silvers were holding right where the clear and murky water met and were eager to do battle with us. It was surprising just how fresh they were after such a long journey up-river. Julia just couldn't seem to keep them off her flies that first night. Probably that was because they were her first ever silver salmon. The next day we set out early for the river that is about a 45 minute boat ride up the Kuskokwim and arrived to see silvers rolling again right along the line between the clear and cloudy water. The bank was muddy and, the closer we had to stand to the to the bushes, very buggy. Thankfully, everyone had a headnet. These fish were worth the hassles, though.
Jane, Julia, and Hannah, Doc, and Ginger all switched off from time to time to bright orange maribou concoctions that also got the fish all excited. |
Finally Hannah headed down the bank and caught several fish in quick succession on a purple fish candy fly. Ginger joined her after awhile and landed the biggest fish of the day, one that we originally thought was a king salmon. Not only was it huge, it was the same dark coppery red that kings turn when spawning. We had to check out its spots to be sure which it was. Kings have spots all over their body, but silvers only have spots on the top of their body and their tail.
The next day we returned to the little camp-side river and took turns fishing the mouth for silvers and fishing up-stream where Woody was able to take the small jet boat. The arctic grayling were most cooperative on dry flies for both Jane and Ginger in the morning (another "first" for Ginger) but less so in the afternoon. That morning also produced two sheefish, much to the surprise of everyone.
On the way home from salmon fishing the next day, we talked Woody into stopping at one of his favorite blueberry picking bluffs and everyone piled out of the boats with plastic bags in hand. As we slogged along through the soft and spungy tundra searching for berry bushes, Ginger remarked that it was like "walking on angel food cake." We spent the ride home debating whether we should have blueberry pancakes or muffins for breakfast. We always spend our last night at Hook-M-Up's Aniak headquarters and while we showered, packed, ate, and visited in front of the fire, one or more of the group always seemed to disappear down the bank with a fishing rod in hand. Finally, Corrina (Woody's and Jeannie's daughter and right-hand helper) had to take the four-wheeler down to the beach to collect all the catch. They just couldn't stop! And you won't be able to either if you join us next year.
Pudge
P. S. -- |
With polaroid glasses we could see pods of twelve to fifteen pound silvers finning slowly in the clear water next to the bank. A #4 silver flash fly or purple egg sucking leech, stripped fast, managed to entice one after the other to break ranks with the pack and give chase. Usually, we could see them come for the fly, open their mouth for the take, and then manage to set the hook just as they closed their mouth and turned. What a blast!
The up-river stretch provided incredible arctic char fishing for Hannah and Julia that afternoon. Hannah accidentally located the char when one unexpectedly took her sunk caddis fly. They switched to an egg pattern, and it was like somebody turned on the spiggot. Double after double after double resulted in some of the most beautiful scarlet spotted and painted char that I've seen in a long time.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
First cast, and a twenty-inch grayling rose gracefully into the air and inhaled the tiny fly on the way back down. Except for the type of take, it was to be like that almost the entire time we fished in Nome this year. The fish were so eager, it was as though they'd been waiting all summer just for us to arrive.
Golly, how I love them! There's just nothing to compare with that flared dorsal fin (the largest of any fresh water species) atop the aqua shaded body arching into the air for dry flies. Most species rise to take the fly from below, but grayling often prefer to take "on the down." Watching them do it is so incredible it's easy to forget to set the hook at times. But not this time. Carolyn lifted the tip of her rod gently, and the fish, realizing he was hooked, took off for the far side of the river. Grayling fight strongly but generally don't waste energy jumping. Not this guy. He treated us to several up-close gyrations as he attempted to throw the hook. Carolyn had done her job well, however, and he finally came to rest next to her for a picture. Again and again it happened for all of us. Each time we marveled all over again at how a fish could be that dainty and yet that beautiful. "Look at this one, look at this one, look at this one," is all we seemed able to say. You have to look because it's nearly impossible to describe those fuscia and aqua-dotted caudal fins, or the huge, spiny, sail-like dorsals decorated with the same colors. Because the color fades almost immediately, it's also nearly impossible to get a good picture of this incredible fish. The gold or aqua-brushed gill plates are simply too delicate to capture well on film and the sheen on the distinctive scale pattern needs water to enhance it. People who haven't fished for trophy arctic grayling like these have missed one of the premier experiences in all sport fishing, I believe. The silver salmon were neither so plentiful nor so cooperative this year. The run was poor (but hopefully just late) so far this year and there were only occasional small pods of fish in the many places we stopped to look for them. The hook-ups were few and far between. Again, on the first cast in a run flowing just the correct resting speed for the fish, Sandie hooked one of the few fish we landed. A big male with a hooked jaw, he represented his species well. Because there were virtually no salmon eggs in the water to attract the grayling, dries, nymphs, and attractor patterns such as white woolly buggers and an orange and white polar shrimp were the flies of choice. |
It was the dry fly action that was the most fun, of course. Who doesn't thrill to see that open mouth sip in the floating fly? While grayling are particularly cooperative in that respect, they are not always the "push-overs" that some people believe them to be. In fact, they can be quite fussy.
Mostly, grayling require that the fly come to them dead-drift and squarely in their feeding lane. As the fish takes the real thing just a couple of inches away from a fly drifting just outside the feeding lane, it's easy to see how important accuracy is. Carolyn was struggling with that concept in a perfect run hidden in a back channel that we usually don't fish. "I can see him rising. He's right there." She said. But she just wasn't in the lane. When finally her fly arrived just where and how the fish liked it, he finally took it. "This is a big one, I think" she said. "Just look at the bend in my rod." Bend in her rod was right! Her 5-wt was being put to a real test. The fish turned out to be 22 inches long. The largest of the day and the largest of the trip! There really isn't anyplace like Nome or like the Council area 75 miles away where we fish. The stark beauty of the mostly bare hills and mountains along the drive remind me of the vast reaches of Montana or Colorado where I grew up. While they seem barren of life, we frequently see hawks, and fox and other small wildlife. This year we spotted a blond-caped grizzly along a small creek below the road and a small herd of reindeer grazing on a wind-swept hill. We looked in vain for the musk-ox that frequent the area. Maybe next year.
We're sorry you couldn't be with us in Nome this year, but our next year's dates will be August 18-22, 2002. If you start planning now, you'll be all set to join us. We'll be waiting for you, and so will those unbelievable grayling.
Pudge |
The other special wildlife that enhanced the trip this year was George, the raven. Orphaned by his mother, he'd hung around the camp all summer, getting used to gobbling up any and all scraps left for him. He appeared regularly to see what was available and stashed what he couldn't eat right then. One day he was busy trying to stuff a cigarette butt into a hole behind the boat seat. When we ran him off he proceeded to peck at our fly rods to see if they were edible. They weren't.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
We landed in Cordova in gusting wind and pouring rain this year. Since that can be pretty typical weather for Cordova, we just wadered-up and went fishing anyway. Well, the bad news was that it had been absolutely pouring for a day or two and all the rivers were completely blown-out. Refusing to believe it, we slogged in to one of the small clear-water tributaries of a Copper River slough hoping that it was not as affected as larger streams. Wrong! Our lines were wet, but not from fishing, when we turned around and slogged back to the car.
The next day was gorgeous! The old growth forest smelled like heaven and the mountains glistened in the sunshine. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that the water had gone down much. Forever the optimists, we wadered up once again, grabbed the rods and hiked into a glacial river, reportedly full of fish, were it was apparently still possible to fish. The hike across the narrow boardwalk traversing the red and gold fall colors of Fall on the tundra was worth the effort, even though we found LOTS of people fishing when we arrived. They hadn't hiked, however, they'd come down river by boat. Suffice it to say, it was hard to find a place to fish among them. A few hits was all we had to report at days end. Finally, the next day rivers were starting to clear and we flew out to one of Fishing & Flying's remote camps along a river that was in pretty good shape. BINGO!!!!! All the rain had brought in fish like crazy, and they were just waiting to see a bright orange or sparkly purple concoction appear in front of their noses. Fish On! Two of us stood side-by-side along one back eddy and hooked probably thirty fish in an hour. These were really big silvers, too. In most rivers cohos average around 12 pounds. Not these brutes. Several went close to twenty pounds! We kept thinking they'd get smart and stop taking our flies, but they didn't. Fresh from the sea, they lived up to the reputation their species has for incredible runs, twisting leaps, and dogged persistence. It was wonderful!! |
We couldn't remain long in that spot too long, though, because the tide was falling, and we had to leave while we could still get the boat down river. On the way out, however, we stopped at a location where we had fished earlier and it, too, was full of fish. We'd spooked a bear as we drove up, and we fished with one eye out over our shoulder. Finally, the tide was falling so fast that we had no choice but to head back to camp and dinner.
The ride back to Cordova was surprisingly calm given that we took off from a wild, wind-swept beach on Alaska's incredible "Outer Coast" in screaming, 45 mile-an-hour winds. It was just part of a true Alaskan wilderness experience. The adventure just goes on and on, and it'll be waiting for you Sept 7-10, 2002.
Pudge |
It rained all night and we despaired of our chances for fish the next day, but luckily, the river wasn't too colored-up and we once again absolutely slammed fish until it was time to head back to the plane.
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