March - Baja, Mexico | May - Float Tubing | June - Brooks River | July - Tangle River | July - Horseback Trip | July - Cordova Flyfishing School | August - Aniak River | August - Nome | September - Cordova | September - Kodiak
Other Years' Fishing Reports: 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Even though I wasn't able to go along this year, our groups still had a great time during our annual trip to Mexico with Baja On The Fly. I got lots of reports from those that attended, so I'm compiling them in this year's trip report.
The first group was lucky enough to have bag-piper, Rick, in attendance, so they got serenaded in ways they never expected. No one expects bagpipes on the white sand beach. Not only did Rick entertain them, he also hooked into several great fish, from what I heard. He hooked the only rooster fish of the trip. Unfortunately, he lost it during the battle. The same thing happened with a gorgeous golden dorado, apparently. He was using his new 9 wt fly rod, so at least he got it christened with some real saltwater beauties. The tuna were out to play, as they most always are when were in Baja. Triples after triples were reported by various folks on every boat on lots of different flies. Skipjack are especially cooperative saltwater fish and this year was no exception, apparently. John even lost a fly line on an especially active one! Alison also had a fly line crisis, but hers was on a very large dorado. After playing it to the boat four different times, it finally managed to snap her line just where the sink tip meets the running line. So, somewhere in the aqua Sea of Cortez, there are two fish swimming around trailing fly line. If you should catch one, please return the line. Another dorado that Alison hooked didn't get away and neither did lots of bonito, skipjack, and even a yellow-tinted lady fish. She reports also catching a pargo from the beach when her group was 4-wheeling along and fishing the surf. Sandra also got a couple of pargo one day when the two were fishing in-shore from a super panga. |
Gary Graham of Baja On The Fly hosted both groups at his annual cocktail parties with fresh guacamole and his special margaritas. Some hot fly tying and beach casting also went on afterwards, folks said. Alison also tells of the day that Tim, one of the guides treated them to a beach fire and a great lunch of sierra mackerel cooked up with butter, onions, red peppers, orange and lime juice and some fried potatoes one day. Another sierra mackerel provided the basis for some fresh ceviche with warm, just-made chips on the deck of the hotel with the margaritas another evening. One of the dinners everyone raved about was a wonderful shrimp chipotle. (We never go hungry at the Buena Vista Beach Resort).
The whales joined the groups this year again, as did hundreds of dolphins. They entertained everyone and made the trip special just with their presence. Many years we hook into yellow-fin tuna schooling up with the dolphins, but in spite of lots and lots of looking, none of them showed up this year, apparently.
I guess 2004 also saw some hot ping-pong tournaments and tons of card games under the umbrellas on the flagstone patio of the hotel. I had bought some kites for flying on the beach, but they're still in their wrappers. We'll just have to try them out next year. Sorry you missed it all??? So am I!!! But, there's always next year. We've already got our 2005 dates set up. They are, Group #1: March 27-April 2; Group #2: April 2-April 8. So now's the time to start making your plans to go along. You know you'll be ready for a vacation by next March, so why not take it with us?? Drop us an e-mail today!
Pudge |
by Pudge Kleinkauf
This year's spring tubing trips were filled with fish, sun, and great women. We had a blast. Our weather had been chilly and often very windy, so we were prepared for more of the same. Luckily, the sun warmed our fishing instead and we went jacketless most days.
The rainbows at the bottom of the hill saw us coming and didn't particularly care. They were busy chasing each other around in their annual attempt at spawning. We say "attempt" because the lake we were fishing doesn't have an incoming or outgoing stream so the fish's eggs can't hatch. It's an exercise in futility. Nevertheless, the fish are not actively feeding, so it's often difficult to get them to strike our flies. Just as in past years, a #10 olive bead-head lake leech did the trick for a while. Corky had an 18-inch fish just as we were paddling out from the shore. Her very first fish on a fly rod, she was nervous about losing it. It didn't take much coaching for her to let it play, strip line when it rested, and manage to get it to her tube skillfully. Boy, was she ever proud of that fish! She landed four more during the day, one that was a 21-inch fish! When the lake leech stopped doing its magic, we switched to black leeches and brown woolly buggers to turn the fish on again. The fish often take very lightly in the spring, so the tubers would often be hooked up and not even know it. Needless to say, several of those fish got off. Kathy and Natha were also fly fishing for the first time at the urging of their friend and co-worker, Julie. Natha hooked up first and played her fish like an old pro. She knew instinctively not to hold it too tight and to relax and take her time getting in in. It took awhile to get the hook out as the fish had managed to get the fly tangled in the landing net while it was still stuck in his jaw. Finally, when he was free it was more important for us to release him carefully, so we didn't get a chance to measure him. |
Julie got the next fish, but we weren't able to measure it either. It thrust itself out of her hand even before she could paddle around with one foot to create a current to revive it. We got most of the other fish measured, however, and they ranged from 16-19 inches in length.
In the afternoon we headed over to another place on the lake where we had seen fish rising. Everyone got re-rigged with nymphs and emergers while we tried our luck. It was a little frustrating because every time the breeze ruffled the water, the fish rings stopped. Then, when the water would calm, the fish would be rising in a completely different place. As we fished we also enjoyed watching a pair of common loons dive for fish all around us and an eagle scout for prey from above. Then, as if that weren't enough, a pair of snow-white swans flew low overhead. We could even hear them talking to each other as they headed for a landing on the lake.
The hare's ear seemed to be the most successful fly of the day. Everybody got more fish before we finally had to call it a day. It was just as hard as it always is to put our float tubes on our backs and hike to the vehicles, but we'll be back. Guaranteed. Calm waters,
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Finally, with an olive gold-ribbed hare's ear on everyone's line, the fish decided to turn on again. Kathy, who had kept patiently casting even though she hadn't yet hooked up, finally got a solid take. "Yippee," she said as she paddled backwards to keep the line tight. She did a perfect release from a tube on her 18-inch fish.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
The sockeye salmon were in, the bears were everywhere, and the water was higher than I've ever seen it in all my years of traveling to the Brooks River in June. The heavy snow-load from the winter of 2003/2004 plus lots of rain made spring runoff last much longer than usual this year, and that made the fishing tough.
Try as we might, we just couldn't wade to many of our favorite fishing spots without having our waders fill up with very cold water. Just to add to our problems it poured rain again the second day we were there. That's all we needed--more water! The high water enabled the salmon to spread out and head up-river in channels that are typically too shallow for them to use. That also kept them out of reach. All in all, it was tough fishing. In spite of the high and dirty water the rainbows would rise in many of the old familiar places. Some would be taking bugs and some would be taking the little salmon smolt that were headed back down-river toward the sea where they would spend their growing up years. Often, however, they were just so far away in the high water that we couldn't reach them, even with our longest casts. We never saw even one rainbow caught during our entire trip. Everyone was having the same problems as we were. By the end of the trip, the water was finally dropping and clearing and the fishing improved dramatically. Sockeye were pouring into the river from the lake nearby, and if we waded into the one or two spots that were now accessible to us, we hooked fish. One accessible spot was right at the river mouth. With a beautiful, long stretch of water, back casts were no problem, and the fish rolled right in front of us. We hooked them pretty regularly, but didn't always land them. Their bony mouths require a hard hook-set that is often difficult to achieve when the fish doesn't grab the fly. Besides, we were constantly looking over our shoulders watching for the bears that seemed to appear out of nowhere right on the bank up-river of us or on the lake shore behind us. There was no shortage of bears this year. Sows with cubs seemed to be everywhere. The result of several years of great salmon runs, moms had two, three, and even four little ones, an unusual occurrence. There were two-year old cubs, one-year old cubs, and even brand-new spring cubs hurrying along to keep up with their mother as she scanned the water for fish and wandered well away from the large boars that would eat her babies if given the chance. |
Time after time we were called off the river and onto the observation platform by a Park Service Ranger because the bears made an appearance. We had front row seats as the mom snorkeled in the river and the babies watched intently from the bank, learning the skills needed for eventually feeding themselves. What a show!!
We also hiked up to the famous Brooks River falls to watch the bears feed and interact in one of nature's most beautiful settings. Again, safe on the observation platform, we watched bears emerge from the woods along the water, wade out to fish in the plunge pool below the falls and then climb the rocky outcroppings that form the falls to fish from that vantage point. Sockeye attempted to jump the falls relentlessly. Many actually made it and also eluded open bear mouths along the way. One particular sow arrived at the falls quite regularly. She'd wade in, quickly manage to catch a fish, and then hurry back to the woods where her cubs made quick work of the meal she had brought them. With four cubs, she had to work especially hard to put food on the table and feed her 800 lb body at the same time.
We might not have caught as many fish as usual this year, but the unbelievable bear watching helped make up for it. I'm willing to bet that next year things will be back to normal and we'll have incredible fishing and catching to report. Want to go along? Dates will again be in late June so let us know if you're interested and we'll get you booked.
Pudge |
I treated myself to a day of pike fishing in the boat before heading home. Naknek Lake, into which the Brooks River flows, has some great out-of-the-way pike bays that are seldom fished. Not only was this huge lake glassy calm that day, but we also spotted a moose swimming a wide channel between two islands. The sun was out, and the fishing was great! Pike after pike fell for my special bunny-tail flies and my guide did a great job of releasing every fish un-harmed.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Thank goodness rivers pretty much stay put. I'm always anxiously awaiting my first glimpse of the clear, tannic-colored water of the Tangle River as I come down the hill toward the campground. In spite of very low water this year, it was still gurgling along just waiting for our arrival.
This July Alaska has been filled with wild fires, and we'd been worried about the smoke. Luckily, the winds had shifted just before we arrived and the skies were bluer than blue and the air was clean. We couldn't have a campfire, but we figured that was a small price to pay for fresh air. We got fishing right away. With water conditions like this, the Arctic grayling we were after tend to hunker down in whatever deep holes they can find in order to stay oxygenated. Unfortunately, that makes them particularly susceptible to mass slaughter by people who don't understand that grayling are the slowest growing of all of Alaska's sport fish and harvest limits must be strictly observed. We were careful to move around from place to place to avoid putting too much pressure on any one group of fish. Hiking away from the crowds led us to some lovely water where the fish were more than eager to take our elk-hair caddis, humpies, and nymphs. With dorsal fin fully flared, they'd grab at the fly as it drifted by or, in quieter water, swim leisurely up to sip off the surface. Polaroid glasses enable us to see their gorgeous aqua coloration and their striped and spotted fins as we bring them to hand. A grayling's colors must be appreciated while it is still in the water. They are one of the fish whose brilliance fades quickly when taken from the stream. Some are golden-hued, some are distinctly blue-green, and some are gun metal gray, but all have the distinctive sail-like dorsal that characterizes their species. "This is a big one," I think, Carolyn announced to the group as she lifted the rod tip when a white mouth inhaled the caddis fly she had drifted exactly where she'd been spotting fish-rings. Sure enough, she was right. Her rod tip bent sharply as the fish moved out into the current for the fight. Since grayling are delicate fish their fight is not as prolonged as their rainbow cousins, but, on a light weight rod, it is no less thrilling. "I don't want to tire him out," Carolyn said, but he sure doesn't want to come in." Eventually, he did, though, so we could all admire his beauty. He was such a perfect specimen the group had the opportunity to see that his dorsal was sharply pointed. |
"Female fish have a more rounded fin," I told them.
We were just getting out the tape and the camera when the fish decided he'd had enough of being admired and, fully revived, escaped back into the current. "That was easily a 15-inch fish," I told Carolyn. "Maybe larger. Big for this area." Although she caught many other fish that day, this prize would be the one she would remember. "I can't get over how beautiful they are," she said. "I could fish for them forever." Others in the group had the same reaction. Roseann, on her first-ever fly fishing outing, was doing a great job of getting her fly to dead-drift and getting hits in the process. She was quickly learning that grayling, while cooperative, also require that the fly come to them correctly before they'll take. "Got one," she finally reported. "All by myself. When I get it right, the fish sure will take it."
Driving back from one of our excursions, we stopped to watch an eagle dive-bomb a mother duck and her babies on a lake next to the road. Even though he had to eat too, we cheered each time he missed. Farther on we saw the swan family that always inhabits another lake nearby. This year the pair had six cygnets! Finally on our last morning, the smoke from the fires blew back into the area and the sun turned to a sickly orange-colored globe in the sky. While the fishing continued to be good, we were just as glad to be leaving. Come on along next year to see what you've been missing.
Pudge |
Tilly reported the same thing. Working on her mending, she knew exactly when she'd gotten it right. From 8-inch fish to 15-inch fish, she caught all sizes. Most were taken on dry flies but many of the largest were taken on nymphs. In one particularly good nymphing stretch of water, she landed probably fifteen fish. In that same area we had our first glimpse of a cow moose and her new-born calf crossing the river below us. We were to see them again each of the remaining mornings we were there.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Six and one-half miles the horses took us into the Kenai Mountains to beautiful Crescent Lake and Crescent Creek for our 2004 adventure. The day was sunny and warm, the trail was in excellent condition, and we were looking forward to our comfortable camp and some good Arctic grayling fishing.
We started the day with a hearty breakfast at the Blue Moose Lodge in Soldotna. We'd packed up there the night before so we could get an early start. Connie and the C&C Stables horses met us as the trailhead. Loading up the packs was done in short order and we were on our way. The forest smelled wonderful as we headed ever higher along the way. Ripe salmon and watermelon berries provided tasty snacks on our rest stops. Soon, the steep hills on either side of the trail gave way to wide, stunning vistas of mountains rising from the rushing creek below. Then, the aqua lake came into view along a track flanked by fireweed flowers and ripening black and red currant bushes. Even though we walked funny for a while after dismounting, the ride was over all too soon. Luckily, the camp site we had scouted out last fall was available and we set to work putting up the tents and getting out our fishing gear. After a quick lunch we were off to the creek while Mike, our wrangler finished setting up the camp shelter. The fish were small but eager. After getting the hang of dead-drifting their dry fly, everyone's hits increased. The fish were there, but were being picky. We spent the afternoon on a lovely stretch of river with plenty of room to back cast. The water was low, due to the lack of rain, so the fish tended to be concentrated in certain deeper runs and holes. Finally it was time to head back for dinner. Because of the dry conditions, all open fires were banned in the area so we had our evening glass of wine by the lake. Soon, Mike announced that dinner was ready. How he managed to produce turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy on that two-burner camp stove is still a mystery to me. We pumped up the float tubes in anticipation of some after dinner fishing, but everyone ended up opting for an early evening instead. It wasn't long after crawling into our sleeping bags that dead silence reined in camp. Mike, however, decided to toss a few flies before heading to bed, so he waded out and cast from shore to the rises visible all across the lake. It was raining when he finally went to bed. The next morning we ate a hurried breakfast and pointed the float tubes out onto the perfectly calm lake. Unfortunately, there were no risers then. So, we trolled instead along the shore and where the lake begins to form the outflow river. The fish had lock-jaw. We realized later that morning just why. A change in atmospheric pressure soon resulted in a wind strong enough to send us off the lake. |
Never willing to give up, we ate lunch and decided to hike up the creed to some particularly tantalizing water that we had seen from the trail. The creek crossings and bank bushwhacking brought us to some low but lovely water. The last of the summer wildflowers were blooming on the bank and we admired the wild geraniums and columbine as we hiked along.
The fish were cooperative for awhile, but then, the storm that had threatened us in the morning returned and put them down. With Mike's help we found our way back up onto the trail where we could get some easy walking back to camp. The view down to the creek was gorgeous.
We'd run into some U.S. Forest Service workers who told us that the burn ban had been lifted after the rain, so we gathered wood eagerly and had a great smelling fire going in no time. Now the wine that had been chilling in the lake tasted especially good. By bed time it was raining again. The 80 mile an hour wind gusts woke us all during the night roaring through the trees and billowing the tents. The plan had been to float tube again on our final morning, but the wind, which had abated considerably, was still blowing. Connie and the horses were returning about noon for our ride back to the trailhead so we all got our sleeping bags and gear packed and took down the float tubes. As Mike took down the camp we headed back to the creek for a little more fishing. We'd found a large, deep hole where fish after fish rose to our elk-hair caddis and red humpies and we had a ball catching them. There was even a small patch of slick water next to a strong current that had fish jumping out of the water for our flies but nearly always missing due to the speed with which the water moved the fly. That didn't stop us from trying, however.
Of course, we walked funny again when arriving at the trail head and everything we had smelled like horse, but we hated to see it end. We certainly plan to do it again next summer. Give us a holler if you want to "cowgirl" with us
Pudge |
The rain tapered off as we headed back down the trail, but a couple of small bridge crossings were slippery for the horses and we slowed down to make sure there were no falls. Of course, the horses knew they were headed back to the barn, and they moved right along.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
We couldn't have asked for better weather for the 2004 fly fishing school! Cordova and Prince William Sound were uncharacteristically sunny and warm nearly the entire time that we were there! Coupled with thousands upon thousands of pink (humpy) salmon, we had the ingredients for a great trip.
The staff from Orca Adventure Lodge picked us up at the airport and has us to the dining room in time for a glass of wine and dinner on the first night. Afterwards we had our first lesson on the gear that everyone would be using the next day. Rods, reels, lines, and flies were everywhere. Then it was early to bed for an early rise the next morning. We headed out early in the skiff in order to maximize our fishing time at nearby Humpback Creek, before the tide flooded in. A matched pair of bald eagles, each perched atop an old dock piling, bade us good morning. And, a good morning it was. After shedding some of our heavy clothes, we were ready for the first lesson on the overhead cast. Very quickly everyone was eager to trade pink yarn for a real fly and get to work. The humpies were more than willing to cooperate. There were so many fish in the creek that it was impossible to avoid snagging some of them in their great, humped backs. After a lesson in correct catch and release, students got back to fishing as soon as possible. As they worked on their casting and mending techniques, more and more fish got hooked in the mouth. "Wow, what a fight," Chris cried out as she landed a 8-9 lb fish. "I've certainly never caught a fish this big at home," she announced. All the other students expressed the same sentiments. "I finally got one in the mouth," Laurie announced to her friend, Karen. Karen had a fish of her own on, and they were almost able to land them simultaneously. I had the camera ready, but Laurie's fish took off before we could get a picture. They were almost glad to rest their arms at lunch. By the end of the day the in-coming tide had moved us up-river to a different channel where we had our first lesson in safe wading. First we practiced buddy-wading. Then, the collapsible wading sticks were deemed a "must-have" piece of equipment as they were put to use. Knot tying and leader construction were the lessons for later that afternoon. We put 100-watt light bulbs in the lodge lamps and set to work. Nail knots, blood knots, and improved clinch knots came out perfect as we quit to head to dinner. They were ready to do their own knots on the river the next day. Day two saw us headed out on the lodge boat for a lovely small cove with a swift little stream pouring into a narrow bay between steep hills. Fish by the hundreds spooked out from under the approaching boat. We lined up and got down to casting to the salmon until the water got so high that we couldn't reach the fish. Then the first roll cast lesson was in order. We had the perfect location with bushes right behind us. The afternoon ended with another visit to humpback creek so they could all put their new-found skills to use. |
Our third day was spent flying out into spectacular Prince William Sound for a day of fishing for Dolly Varden char and sockeye salmon at a lovely river flowing out of a high-mountain lake. The float-plane flight was incredible, with glaciers all around and moose visible on the ground.
After a morning fishing at the lake outlet, we decided to hike down to a spot that is a favorite of lodge guests. What a challenge!! The water was high after lots of rain so the going wasn't easy. We slogged through muddy sloughs and scrambled over big round boulders, but we made it. A long, easily waded gravel bar gave us easy access to lots and lots of fish. Judy caught the first char of the afternoon. "Boy, are his pink spots ever gorgeous," she said. "I hardly even felt him bite." While everyone was concentrating on Dollies, Chris managed to hook up a spawning sockeye salmon on her 5-wt rod. Although she was afraid of breaking the rod on a fish larger than it was supposed to catch, she did just fine. The bright red fish with a green head made quite an impression on everyone. Patti caught a similar fish later in the afternoon. We slogged back to the pick-up spot for the float plane, arriving just as the plane touched down on the quiet lake. Gayle Ranney, Alaska's most famous woman bush pilot, treated everyone to a glacier flight-see as the early evening light glowed against the mountains on the way home. Our last day we headed out to catch chum salmon. The creek flowing out into the bay was filled with fish that were visible with Polaroid glasses. Once again, we had until early afternoon before the tide came in and flooded our fishing hole.
Just as in every other trip, time to head home came all too soon. These women were now accomplished fly fishers, able to tie their own leaders with knots that held, able to release a fish correctly, able to use the casts they needed, and much more. Want to learn what they learned? Then plan on attending our 2005 fly fishing school. We'll be returning to Talstar Lodge on the Talachulitna River the end of July next year. Come on along!!
Pudge |
Patti hooked the first chum that day. "I can't believe how much bigger and stronger this fish is than the pinks we've been catching," she told the others. "Just wait till you hook one." Karen hooked up next, and then Charlotte and Laurie quickly followed. Patti was right, they all agreed.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Wow, wow, and wow, was all we could say for the 2004 trip to the fish-filled Aniak River! While we might not have caught as many rainbow trout as we would have liked, the thousands of silver (coho) salmon and Dolly Varden char more than made up for it.
One of Woody's fabulous egg & sausage breakfast casseroles started off our first morning in style. Afterwards we loaded bags, fly rods, and all the perishable food in the waiting jet boats and took off for the 35-mile ride to the up-river tent camp that would be our wilderness retreat for the next four days. We ready for action in no time. Chum (dog), pink (humpy), red (sockeye) and silver salmon were spawning everywhere throughout the upper river. All we really had to do was pull the boats onto one or another long gravel bank, get out and start bouncing our egg-imitation flies along the bottom to start catching char. Time after time after time I looked down the river to see all six rods hooked up simultaneously! Believe it or not they even got tired of hollering, "fish-on!" A roaring beach fire welcomed us back at camp late that afternoon, and we relaxed over a glass of wine before a great meat-loaf dinner with vegetables fresh from the garden and home made rolls that Woody's wife, Jeannie, had sent along for our first night. Yum! We told some tales and swapped some stories over a cup of tea in front of the fire before heading off to the sleeping bags and some dreams of the next day's fish. And those fish turned out to be every thing we had hoped for. Pulling in to a small creek, the dark bodies of resting silvers were easily spotted through Polaroid glasses. Switching from the 5-wt rods to the 8-wt rods, we launched our purple egg-sucking leech flies into the tannin-colored water. "Let your fly drift down to the fish's eye level and then strip like crazy," Woody and I told them. "Silvers like to chase a fly." That seemed to be all it took for the hook-ups to start. Bill and his wife, Mimi were the first to hook up using one split shot about a foot up on the leader. Donna and her husband, Cliff, started keeping count of how many times they had fish on simultaneously, but they got so excited they kept losing count. Maggie, the shortest person on the trip, couldn't wade in as far as the others, but she had no trouble hooking up. "Once they see the fly they take right off after it," she said. Both she and Cliff ended up on their butts in the suck-foot mud along the bank as they backed up to land fish. Trisha, who was just starting her fly fishing career, also did well. "This is a lot different than fishing for the "dollies" she said. These fish are a lot more powerful." |
A great shore-side lunch of fresh grilled salmon gave us plenty of time to rest our arms and plan for more "dolly" fishing that afternoon. Those fish proved just as cooperative as they had the day before.
That night, just after we'd finished a super steak dinner in front of the fire, it started to rain. In seconds, what started out as a big, plopping raindrops turned into a pouring deluge! It happened so fast we barely had time to get our inside-out waders off the old tree stump where we had them airing out. I was the last to get mine and they ended up spending the night in the cook shack trying to get dry. The rain continued on & off during the night, but the next day was great. The water had come up somewhat but was still clear enough for good fishing. Because of the rain the fish were now taking a somewhat different colored bead than the day before. We experimented until we found the right color, and it was like turning on the light. Fish, after fish, after fish, fell for our fake eggs. When Woody called us in for lunch, another silver was baking over the coals. Along with rolls, corn, and some of Jeannie's great cookies we were in seventh heaven. Then just as we were returning to the water, someone hollered, "bear-across the river." Sure enough a three-year old brown bear was ambling along sniffing the old dead fish lying on the bank. There were enough good smells on his side of the river that he didn't need to come over to check out the last of our lunch. As we watched he crashed into the river and quickly emerged with a wriggling fish in his mouth. Surprisingly, however, he didn't eat it, but just charged right back in for another.
We watched the best we could with the binoculars as he suddenly decided to abandon his fish cache and head across the river to our side. We quickly finished picking up the last of the lunch stuff, put everything in the boats and prepared for a quick retreat just in case he came our way. Luckily, he either laid down for a nap or headed up-river and away from us, as we never saw him again. We headed back to Woody's on our last day and fished for silvers to take home right along his beach, but the wind was howling! After lunch we tried another nearby creek where we could put the wind at our back. The water was high and the fish were a long cast away, but the group prevailed. A great end to a great trip!! We'll be fishing the Aniak again next year in early August. Come on along. You've been missing all the fun!!
Pudge |
by Pudge Kleinkauf
When it comes to big Arctic Grayling, there really is no place like Nome! Again this year, they came to our egg-imitation beads, our dry flies and nymphs, and other wet flies with the consistency we've come to depend on. They are cooperative as well as beautiful fish.
The first group started us off with a bang. Because of the thousands upon thousands of pink (humpy) salmon that choked the rivers this year, there were millions and millions of salmon eggs available for hungry fish. And, the grayling and Dolly Varden char took advantage. We started out by learning the "bounce" technique that makes the egg imitation fly or bead tumble along in the current just as the real eggs do. Once they "got it" they really "got it." Then, it was just a matter of matching our fakes to the color of the real thing for the action to turn on. After that, it was hook-up after hook-up, after hook-up. One gorgeous nineteen-inch fish with an incredible sail-like dorsal fin that Jerome caught was quickly matched by another one just as beautiful that his wife Judith displayed. They matched each other fish for fish nearly every day. We tried dry-fly fishing (to imitate the reported preference of grayling), but for most of the time, it was eggs that they preferred. Still, #12 elk-hair caddis worked the same magic as they do every year, as did Royal Wulffs, humpies, and large yellow & orange stimulators. Several fish were so stuffed that they "up-chucked" eggs as we were releasing them. Slowly over the course of the week, the availability of eggs diminished, and other offering proved more appealing to our discriminating prey. We stood in one lovely drift just below an incoming creek alternating dry flies and eggs for one memorable afternoon. Sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen-inch fish were common with a few nineteen inchers thrown in for good measure. On occasion a pink-spotted Dolly Varden char would grab the egg before the grayling could get to it. It was great to be able to catch both species in one spot. The second group did just as well. They also wanted to learn how to "bounce" egg flies, so we rigged up the short leaders with one split shot and spent the first day in several productive stretches of water.
Just like every other fly fisher the world-over, they just couldn't get enough of seeing the fish rise to take their fly. |
The first few times they saw the grayling take "on the down" they rushed to tell the others about the flared dorsal fin, the gleam of scales in the sunlight, and the need to wait just a second more before setting the hook to give the fish time to actually "get" the fly. (Often grayling will rise up out of the water and then grab the fly as they re-enter the water.) It was magic.
Nicole and Anna were both on their first fly fishing adventure and they were intense and focused students. They had lots of questions. The frown lines on both their foreheads were clear indication of their concentration and focus. By the end of the trip they could count themselves as fly fishers! One afternoon the two of them and Pam fished a slow stretch along a sloping bank and had a ball practicing their accuracy. They set out to fish "only to the rises" making it their goal to dead-drift their flies to the exact spot where they'd seen a fish rise. They got better and better at it as time went on.
High water from lots of rain seemed to make the fish harder to find at times-or maybe it was just that they were harder to entice to our flies. But, these were tenacious fly fishers and they prevailed. That had to be at least in part because of the wonderful dinners that John Elmore's wife, Fran, produced for us every night. We'd unload the rods and gear from the boat, head back to the camp, and enjoy a glass of wine on the brand new cedar porch on our cabin before heading over to the main lodge for dinner. Whether Fran surprised us with her home-grown cole-slaw, chocolate (from scratch) cake, turkey and dressing, or steaks right off the grill, we managed to clean it all up every night. On our last day the fish seemed to turn up their noses at all of our offerings for a while. That sent us back to our fly boxes to look for "something different." That something turned out to be ant patterns. The famous Chernobyl ant, with its red foam cap produced a 20-incher, the largest fish of the trip for John, Nichole's dad. She tried and tried to match it but never quite did. Anna took the last fish on a fly that she was determined to drift to a rising fish. It was a beauty. I've never seen fatter grayling in my thirty-five years of fishing Alaska. There's no telling what next year will bring, though. Why not plan to come along on one of our very favorite trips. You won't be disappointed!!
Pudge |
By their second day it was clear that the egg phenomena was over and that dry flies would produce more fish. Pam was the only one of the group that was an experienced dry-fly angler. Although it had been a few years since she'd fished with us, she hadn't forgotten how to achieve the dead-drift required to get grayling to hit a dry fly. The others, however, required a little instruction and practice until they could see clearly that their fly went down-stream before their leader, and that the leader clearly preceded the line.
There's nothing more beautiful than an Arctic grayling with the sunlight glinting off its spectacular, flared dorsal fin. The group never got tired to saying to one another, "look at this one, look at this one." No two fins are every quite alike. Different colors, different spots, and different shape make each one unique.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
What a trip! The coho (silver salmon) were everwhere! The weather was good, and the catching, as well as the fishing, were awesome!
We spent our first day (shortened a bit because of a flat tire right off) touring the Cordova area. We headed out the road to view the Childs Glacier and stare in awe at the huge slabs of ice calving into the Copper River below. Then, we took a short hike out onto the world-famous Million Dollar Bridge to watch the ice floes from the nearby Miles Glacier floating underneath. A real spectacle of nature On the way back we stopped several times to watch the swans and their cygnets feeding serenely in various ponds next to the road. And, as we drove from Cordova to the lodge, lots of sea otters were feeding and playing all along the beach. A great wildlife day. The fishing days were pretty great, too. We took the lodge boat out the first day to an area where the silvers always school up in preparation for spawning and everyone got lots of practice stripping in the fly to entice the fish (which were otherwise concentrating only on each other) and then setting the hook numerous times to keep them solidly connected. We cast egg-sucking leeches, fuscia bunny flies, chartreuse rabbit leeches and red and silver flash flies, and they all seemed to work. These were "first salmon" for several in the group, and I could hardly tear them away for the trip home for one of Denise's great dinners at the lodge. The second day we enjoyed a fly-out to one of the area's many salmon rivers. Flying the plane was Alaska's most famous woman bush-pilot, Gayle Ranney. Silvers were finning in just a foot of water right next to the beach as we landed, and we couldn't get in the water fast enough. Margo hooked the first fish, followed almost simultaneously by her friend, Chrys. "Yippee," was about all they could say for the fantastic leaps and acrobatic jumps of these fish, just in from the salt water. Small pods of fish created pools of dark water, and all they had to do was cast right into that water to hook up. Meanwhile, Cheryl had headed a bit down river and also had a fish on. Brooke and our other Chris were nearby casting to fish of their own. Silvery fish backs and dorsal fins poked out of the water nearly everywhere we looked. "There's so many fish, it's hard to pick just one place to cast," Chris said. |
Brooke was the newest fly fisher of the bunch, but I've never seen a more determined angler. She'd hook up at first, but forget to set the hook a few more times and would quickly disconnect. She'd be right back at it just a second later, however, knowing that some fish would give her another chance to practice. Pretty quickly, she was hooking and landing with the rest of them. I couldn't run up and down the beach fast enough to help them release fish. "Stop for awhile," I begged at one point. "I have to go to the bushes." They laughed and kept right on fishing. We waited to keep our daily limits until just before Gayle was scheduled to pick us up, but then they kept me busy gutting fish right up until the plane's wheels touched the sand.
The trip back was unbelieveable!! Gayle, who doesn't often get to fly a plane load -of women, treated us to an unforgettable, smooth as silk, glacier-filled flight-see that knocked our eyes out! We saw glaciers hanging off the sides of towering peaks, glaciers calving into the sea, and glaciers winding down through miles and miles of mountains. It was even more awesome than the fishing! Just when we thought our third day couldn't possibly measure up to the other two, it did. We headed out by boat on a glacier-fed river that was boasting one of it's largest silver runs in years. "You won't be able to see the fish this time because of the glacial silt in the water," I told them as we stepped out onto a large gravel bar. "Just fish close to the bank where they always hang out and also watch for fish-wakes as they move around." That's all it took. They were off and running again.
Boy, did we ever hate to leave. It was just one of those trips were absolutely everything went our way. Weather, companionship, food, and fish, we had a blast. Come along next year and we'll see if we can do it all over again!
Pudge |
It was Cheryl who landed the first fish this time, but Chrys was right behind her. Brooke, Chris, and Margo may have taken a few minutes more, but soon they were also hooking up right and left. By now, they were getting adept at releasing their own fish, and at knowing which ones were the better "keepers." Ten, twelve and fourteen pound silver shapes weighted down the stringer attached to the boat in no time.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Four fantastic fly fishing machines accompanied me to Kodiak Island this year for our annual September trip. I picked them up at the airport about 7:00 a.m. and we were on our way. Their rooms at the hotel weren't ready for them, so they changed into their waders in the lobby and the bathroom, grabbed their rods and rain coats and were standing out on the street before I could even get a cup of coffee.
Nichole and her dad, John, had also fished with me in Nome this year, (the trips being part of Nichole's college graduation presents) and had had good success with catching silvers there. They knew exactly what to do. SueAnne and Marvin just needed a little coaching before they, too, were confidently casting to the swarms of fish we could see holding in the current that poured into the first large pool we stopped at. A careful look at the fish told us that many of the shapes in the wide black line in the water were either chum or pink salmon mixed in with the silvers we were after. Unfortunately, these two species were also more interested in taking our flies than the silvers were. It was an "almost every cast" situation for awhile, but they were wearing their arms out with fish they didn't want. When visibility is good it's easy to distinguish the large, black-tailed silvers from the striped chums and the smaller, hump-backed pinks. So, moving farther down the pool where the water was clear and low, we were able to target individual fish. That increased our catch rate substantially. It was soon "fish-on" for John and, then also for Sue Ann. It took Nichole and Marvin just a bit longer. "This is more like it," they remarked. Sue Ann and Nichole both found a way to wade to the other side of the pool so they could cast to fish that were resting in some spots shaded by the large birch and alder that were just starting to take on their fall color. The low water had concentrated the oxygen-starved fish in such a small area, that it was almost impossible not to snag one as the flies drifted through the pack. "Is it in the mouth?" they'd ask each other when a line would tighten on a fish. Often as not the answer was "no." These experiences taught them some valuable lessons about how to get a fish off the line, however. Sometimes they'd just relax the tension and the hook would come loose, and sometimes, they'd use the "point your rod tip at the fly and pull straight back" technique. Both worked. Their successes came from different methods. Nichole hooked a fish when she switched to a purple egg-sucking leech from a bright orange bead head fly. Sue Ann, connected by using the "strip with a short, fast retrieve" technique. They kept each other, and Marvin and John on the other side, informed of what was and was not working. Marvin, who patiently stood his ground where we had started out, was rewarded with the largest fish of the day, however. |
We headed out to some of the other Island rivers the next couple of days, and were lucky enough to be able to fish some of the prime spots. Since the rivers were not yet open above the highway bridges, anglers were concentrated in fewer spots. Still, since we were willing to hike, we managed to have some spots pretty much to ourselves.
One of our hikes took us down river beyond lots of people standing on the bank. We searched the deep holes beneath the under cut banks- a favorite holding place for silvers- but came up short. As we headed back to the van, a small group of folks was vacating one of the good runs nearer the road. They graciously let us in to fish it as they gathered up their belongings, and John hooked a fish almost immediately. While the others "held" our spot, Nichole and I waded back to the car to make lunches. Then we took turns eating and fishing for the next couple of hours. On the way home we stopped for some Dolly Varden char fishing, but weren't very successful. The next day, though, when we were able to fish above the bridges, we encountered a couple of runs that were chocked full of "dollies." John and Nichole put on egg-imitation flies to pursue them while Sue decided she'd stick with the silvers. She took two good fish while the others "played" with the char. "I don't think these dollies are very smart," Nichole said as at least twenty pink-spotted fish competed for her offering. "They all rush out together to compete for the egg floating by and most of them miss." "Just keep fishing," her dad told her. "You've got lots of fish in front of you."
Our last day we spent prospecting at several locations. All the fish were released, however, as the group had taken the catch from previous days in for smoking and packing and didn't want to take any un-preserved fish home in their suitcase. "They may not have all been silvers," Sue Ann said as we grabbed a quick hamburger while waiting for the plane, "but I sure caught a lot of fish." "My back hurts," Marvin chimed in, "but it was definitely worth it." John and Nichole just grinned and nodded their heads.
Pudge |
Soon, the light changed and Nichole was able to see the fish grabbing for her egg and then almost instantaneously letting go. "Dollies are pretty quick to realize that our bead imitations are hard and not soft like the real thing," I told her. "They're actually smart enough to know that something is wrong. That's probably why they let go so quickly."
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