March - Baja, Mexico | May - Float Tubing | June - Salcha River School | June - Brooks River | July - Horseback Trip | July - Talstar Flyfishing School | August - Tangle Lakes | August - Nome | August - Talachulitna River | September - Cordova | September - Kodiak
Other Years' Fishing Reports: 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Baja Mexico is very hard to beat in late March. We're all sick of winter then and just the idea of white sand beaches and swaying palms gets us all excited. The trip never disappoints. As we arrived, Baja On the Fly had everything all set up for us (as usual). The hotel was as comfortable and welcoming as always, and the food as good. The fishing wasn't bad either!
Because of large swaths of warm water coming into the Sea of Cortez from the Pacific Ocean, there were more marlin around than we've seen in several years. That certainly got everyone going. We headed out bright and early the first morning to the area south of the hotel where the marlin were being caught and rigged up to troll for them. Suddenly we were into a huge school of marlin. There pointy dorsal fins were slicing the water all around the boat, and occasionally one would jump clear out of the water chasing some elusive bait fish. As we watched them with fascination, a large sea turtle swam into view and then rested so we could watch him. He seemed as interested in the spectacle as we were. After awhile he lazily swam off and we turned our attention back to the fish. It wasn't long, however, that with heart-stopping ease, the humped back of a gray whale also surfaced among the feeding marlin. Obviously, there was lots and lots and lots of bait fish around and everybody was taking advantage, including us. Both boats had numerous hook-ups, but we weren't always successful in bring all the fish to the boat. We did land four fish, each in the 100 lb range. On the last day of the trip, one of the guys that joins us each year hooked into a marlin that was in the 140-150 lb range and he fought it for one and ½ hours. After getting it to the boat four times, he finally lost it when it jumped, waved its bill, and cut the leader. What a disappointment! We fought the wind several days, having to give up one beach fishing day because of 50-mile an hour winds. We headed up into the mountains behind the hotel on the 4-wheelers instead. |
Everybody had a great time marveling at the huge elephant trees, the many-trunked ficus trees that grow right out of the rocks in the canyons that have secret underground springs, and the rare birds and the iguanas that scurried along the sun-warmed rocks as we passed by. We also enjoyed some great salt-water fly fishing techniques during an afternoon fly casting clinic that Baja On the Fly and the guides put on for us.
We caught many of the other species that we look forward to each year, including bonito, skip-jack tuna, and a couple of amber-jack (cravalle) that don't visit very often. The Skippies were as cooperative as usual with all three rods on the boat bent with a fish on simultaneously, time after time, after time. The Skippies may not be huge, but there is no more cooperative fish in the sea of Cortez. We were hoping to run into some sierra mackerel, so we could have the hotel make ceviche for us to have with our margaritas on the deck before dinner, but had no luck. We did keep one small yellow fin tuna that the hotel made into marvelous fish fingers. We had also missed the rooster fish that we had hoped would be around while we where there, but no luck. It may have been the wind that kept them deep or maybe some of the colder water temperatures. We'll never know for sure. All we knew is that we were disappointed.
Let's go to Mexico together in 2006... Drop us an e-mail today!
Pudge |
Many of you tell me that you read our stories of trips longingly and hope to "someday" go along. Well, my advice to you is to stop procrastinating, and just decide that 2006 is the year. Our dates will be April 14- 20, 2006. If you book now, that will give you more time to set up a payment plan and get your travel agent started watching for good bargains for you. Get in touch with us right away and we'll reserve a space for you. (Trip cost will be up on the web site as soon as we have it from Baja On The Fly. It should be in the $1,700 range-double occupancy. Stay tuned.)
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Lake fishing from a float tube just can't be beat. Especially in the spring when the fern heads are popping up in the woods, a ptarmigan is walking ahead of us on the trail, the loons have returned to nest and raise this year's babies, and the rainbows are hanging out in the shallows just waiting for us.
We carefully peeked over the edge of the bank to see if the bows were where we usually find them in the spring, right in the shallows; and, sure enough, there were at least twenty beauties finning and chasing just out from the shore. We were ready for the action and we hoped they were too. The couple of gals that were with us this year, took the usual ten minutes or so to get acclimated to the tube and master how to move it around and then we were off. As usual, we entered the water carefully so as not to spook the fish and then lined up about thirty feet off shore so we could cast in toward the bank. The "takes" were often so subtle that we didn't even realize that we had a fish on. It was only when someone was ready to lift her line out of the water to cast again that she realized that she was connected to a fish. At other times, the strike was forecast by just a slight hesitation on the line. But, no matter how the fish took the fly, once they were on the battles were great. Strong, hard fighting silver bullets, these fish gave great account of themselves. Sixteen, eighteen, and even twenty-inch fish got fooled by our bead-head lake leeches, small wooly buggers, and olive gold-ribbed hare's ears flies. |
Because the fish were more interested in each other (they were mimicking the spring spawning ritual, which they cannot complete because there is no running water to oxygenate the eggs) than in our flies, they would refuse any of our offerings for long periods of time. Generally, we could turn them back on with a change of fly and a different stripping technique, at least for awhile.
We ended the first day of the trip with a glass of wine and some great steaks grilled on the deck of the little cabin that is our headquarters for the trip. An early night and an early start the next day gave us a repeat performance.
It's always like that in the spring. It's the one time of year where the angler can sight-cast to fish and often observe the hook-up as well. If you haven't yet tried float tubing or lake fishing, plan to join us next year for this annual trip. It's a blast, so e-mail us!
Pudge |
As the fish would cluster together we'd position ourselves on either side of the spot and cast right into the pod. Frequently, two hook-ups at the same time resulted. For awhile we took turns being a spotter up on the bank pointing out to the tubers in the water exactly where the fish had moved to. They usually didn't have to move far to be into fish again.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
 Our "mini" fly fishing school on Interior Alaska's lovely Salcha River took place in mid June. The early spring melt water was gone and the river was at an absolutely perfect level. Cookie, Salcha River Guest Camp's trusty river boat, transported us from the boat launch to the camp in real style. After lunch, our first casting lesson was held beside a lovely set of riffles in the hot sun. We ended the afternoon by putting flies on the end of our lines instead of the colored yarn we'd been using and set our sites to pursuing the Arctic grayling that the river holds. Only a few small fish came to our flies that sweltering afternoon, and it was good to head back to camp for a cool glass of wine on the screened porch of the lodge for our first knot tying and leader construction lesson. Dinner was an absolute delight! John, our host, boat driver, and chef, treated us to one of his special salmon recipes that had us asking for seconds and even thirds. An after dinner nature walk (complete with head-nets) helped everyone identify a variety of plants and birds native to the boreal forest in which the Camp is located. In fact, the group discovered the secret ground-level nest of a junco that held four tiny baby birds calling for food. The mother bird flitted in and out filling their open beaks. We were up early the next morning and after custom-made omelets we once again donned the waders and headed out with Cookie. Rigged up with white-eared royal wulff flies for visibility, we had the first lesson on how to drift a dry fly to a fish. Success came quickly. The base of a small run where the river deepened and widened proved to be the "hot spot' of the morning. Judy and Cherry took turns at the top of the run while Stephanie and Billie concentrated on the fish at the bottom. Their confidence built quickly. After a short trip to a different section of the river, we planted our behinds on a long spruce log that had washed up on the beach and absolutely devoured our lunch. |
Then it was time for the first lesson in safe wading. Armed with Folstaf collapsible wading sticks, the group got a first hand experience with the challenges and difficulties of wading a river. They learned how to lock elbows and "buddy" wade, and how to use the wading stick. "Boy, the water is just over my ankles and I can hardly stand up without the stick," someone remarked. "I can really understand how wading can be so dangerous," someone else replied.
During lunch we'd seen fish rising in a short section of the river above us, and we headed right there after the wading lesson. Cherry and Billie took the first fish while Stephanie wandered up river a bit to land her fish. Judy wasn't far behind. They admired one after the other sail-finned grayling that had very cooperatively taken their flies. What a great little spot! We headed back to the lodge for more lessons on gear and flies, and then went wild over a pork loin that John prepared on the grill for us. One of Kathy's great desserts topped off the meal. After dinner the anglers joined Kathy in her craft studio above the original lodge building for some rock painting.
We fished our way back down to the boat launch among intermittent showers and were sad to have it all end. All agreed, however, that they definitely were going to be doing more fly fishing from now on. That's what it's all about. E-mail us to try a trip next year!
Pudge |
Our last day brought nymphing time, and these women quickly got the hang of it. "It's different not being able to see my fly," Billie said, but she quickly hooked fish nevertheless. The others did the same. As they fished, we also had a lesson in reading the water. It wasn't long before they were assertively picking their fishing spot and going right to work. A bead-head gold ribbed hare's ear nymph resulted in success almost no matter where they fished.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Bears, bears, and more bears! That's what we had on both of this year's trips to the Brooks River in Katmai National Park Time after time we had to pull our lines out, break off fish, or stop casting because bears were approaching.
As soon as the sockeye salmon arrive in the Brooks River, the bears appear to take advantage of the run and bulk-up after the weight loss they experience when hibernating. There were only three or four sightings of different bears until we arrived. And then, within a day, thirteen bears were in the area. That increased to nineteen bears by our second day. People at the lodge asked us if we brought the bears, but I think our arrival just happened to coincide with the arrival of the fish. We could see the sockeye finning away right at the bridge that leads across the river to the trail that takes visitors to the famous Brooks Falls. Since the group wanted to keep fish if they could, we had to follow the regulations that require that such fish be caught below the bridge. So, we lined up along one of the two main channels that the fish use and got busy. The short-distance "plunk" cast that is used to catch sockeye was successful as soon as the group realized that just the quiver or the stop of their line indicated they had a fish on. Just as they were getting the hang of it, a bear appeared and we had to back out of the water. Each time that happened we retreated to the safety of the observation platform next to the river where rangers from the National Park Service worked to avoid encounters between people and fish. As the bears would wander off we'd return to fishing, and soon Cliff had the first fish "bagged" and put in the freezer as they must be at Brooks. Donna and Maggie took a little longer to land their fish due to almost constant interruptions by the bears. These were huge, old boars, three-year-olds just out on their own, a courting pair, and lots of moms with cubs. If that weren't enough, we also hiked up to the falls to watch the bears fishing there. The group also took an afternoon to go rainbow trout fishing on the upper river and we thought we'd have fewer problems with the bears there. We had a wonderful, uneventful afternoon hooking rainbows on nymphs until Maggie looked up and saw a mom with two cubs right across the river from her. We got together to "look big" as biologist recommend and backed down the river. After deciding we were far enough away, the sow walked into the river and sat down right where we'd been fishing. Then she softly grunted to the cubs to tell them to follow her as she headed to the other side. They walked up onto the trail and we never saw them again. Although it hardly seemed possible, the second group encountered even more bears. Over and over, we tried to fish, got run off, tried again, and got run off again. They were feeding right where we were fishing. The moms with cubs seemed to especially like that area. Apparently, that is because the big boars, that will kill and eat the cubs if they get a chance, were less likely to inhabit the lower river. |
One mom had three cubs, which for reasons no one could explain, were three different sizes. Rangers knew that they were all born the same year and thought that one was just the runt of the litter. In spite of the fact that it is discouraged, people had named the cubs Huey, Louie, and Duey-Duey being the runt. We watched them nurse, sleep, play, and concentrate intently on mom's fishing techniques.
Another mom had just one cub that had also endeared itself to rangers and visitors alike. Because of his tendency to stick close to his mom, he'd been nick-named "velcro." The fact that he'd been sighted riding on his mom's head as she crossed the river because he didn't like to swim probably also contributed to his name. In spite of all the bear activity we did get in some fishing time. As the pods of sockeye would mill around just below the bridge, we'd get hooked-up, but a poor hook-set or a fish that broke off just at the bank, made them hard to land. During the time that we were there, our fish were the only fish in the freezer.
Brooks is unique in all the world. Join us in 2006 to experience it!
Pudge |
The second group also opted for a morning at the upper river rainbow fishing. It was an absolutely lovely day with absolutely no bears! Brooke counted at least ten "hits" there and Cynthia hooked into an absolute monster fish. It's first spectacular jump clearly displayed a vivid, carmine stripe or we'd have thought it was a salmon that she'd hooked by mistake. She played it carefully, but even so, the fish broke her off just as we were about to land it. It would have gone five or six pounds, I'm sure.
Later in the afternoon Chris also hooked a beautiful rainbow, and managed to land it. She rigged up with a size 12 bead-head prince nymph, and connected on her fourth cast. Because we were in the bear corridor, we watched closely for the furry intruders as she played the fish. Luckily the bears were all elsewhere, and she brought a 22-inch beauty to the bank. It ended her trip on a great note.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
This year's horsepacking trip took us to a gorgeous lake deep inside one of Alaska's premier canoe systems on the famous Kenai Peninsula for some fun float tubing for rainbows. We started the trip at Mike & Ellen Adlam's cozy Blue Moose Lodge where we spent our first night and packed up for an early start with the horses the next morning. We hit the sack early and were up at the crack of dawn to get going. Connie and Carly of C&C Stables were waiting for us at the trailhead along with the horses, which were all saddled and ready to go. The narrow, buggy trail soon gave way to gorgeous birch and spruce forest, from which a view of the lake appeared from a high vantage point. While Mike set up the sleeping tents and the screen house that would be our kitchen and dining room, we ate a quick sandwich and got ready to fish. With the tubes inflated and the rods rigged, we were on the water in no time. More than twenty common loons and what seemed like a convention of red-necked grebes greeted us as we slogged our way through the tall reeds on the bank and emerged into the clear, blue water. After a few tips on casting from a float tube, we were trolled down the lake with our sink tip lines and brown wooly buggers. Only a few small fish seemed interested in our offerings, and several changes of flies did nothing to improve our success. We finally returned to camp, settled in, and relaxed with a glass of wine while Mike fixed dinner. His specialty of turkey and mashed potatoes, cooked on the camp stove, disappeared in no time. Our after-dinner tubing didn't produce much better than our afternoon efforts, although Sue did get the first respectable fish of the trip. As the sun dipped behind the trees, the air quickly cooled, and we retreated to the warm sleeping bags. Our second morning was cloudy and cool. Rain spattered on the tent fly and the screen house as we boiled water for coffee and cooked breakfast. Then, the sky opened up and it absolutely poured. Warm and dry with coffee and food, we waited patiently for the rain to stop, and it finally did. With cooler temperatures and overcast sky, the fish were more cooperative. A twenty-one inch beauty started us off. Sue hooked it right along a sharp drop-off just as we started paddling down the lake to an area where we could see fish rising. It was as pretty a rainbow as anyone could wish with silvery sides and the characteristic red stripe down its side. |
As we were about to turn the tubes around and start casting into the weeds visible just below the surface, Alethia was startled by the take of a very large fish. Since this was her first fly fishing (and camping) excursion, it was understandable that she forgot all about keeping the line tight and paddling away from the fish. She quickly settled down, however, and got busy reeling and paddling as her fish turned and headed right toward her. Alternating jumps and runs, the fish showed off his bulk and his shine to impress us with his prowess. Alethia proudly landed him and held him high for a picture.
Kay was next to play a rainbow hooked just on the edge of the weed-beds. She got to experience the same blazing runs and spectacular jumps before bringing the fish to the tube. As we headed to the bank to "go to the woods" we noticed a large dragon fly, just emerged from his shuck, struggling to dry his wings and get airborne. Right nearby we found the perfectly intact shuck, which provided the opportunity for an interesting study in entomology. As we paddled off, Alethia played and landed an 18-inch fish that was every bit as feisty as the other three. We headed back to the tents for lunch and a rest, and headed out again for more action. The weather had something else in mind, however. Two fronts were quickly moving in on us with the wind rising, the clouds building, and the temperature dropping. Since the morning storm had included lightning we made the decision to paddle back to the tents and, after dinner, headed to the sleeping bags. Only the sounds of the loon calls broke the stillness of the night.
The horses knew they were headed back to the trailer and moved right along on the soft, spongy trail. No stopping for quick bites of grass this time. The ride was over all too quickly. The beauty of the forest and the easy gait of the horses made us want it to go on forever. Next summer, we'll be hooking up with the horses again for another great Alaska adventure. Come on along!
Pudge |
Our last day was gorgeous, but without the large fish of the day before. Several small rainbows were all we had to our credit as we paddled back to camp to head home. We deflated the tubes, packed the waders and made a quick lunch while Mike & Connie re-packed the horses for the return trip.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Gosh, it was wonderful to be back at Talstar Lodge for our 2005 fly fishing school! From the eagles in the huge cottonwood trees, to the family of river otters swimming in the river right in front of us, everything and everyone welcomed us back with open arms.
The students disembarked from the float planes that brought us from Anchorage to the Skwentna River, oohed and ahhed over the incredible flight, and hopped into the boat for the ride to the Talachulitna River and the lodge. After the short walk from the boat launch through the head-high ferns, plus some coffee and muffins in the lodge, they headed to their cabins to get wadered-up for the first casting lesson on the beach. It wasn't long until the lines were shooting out in perfect candy-cane loops and they were ready for the real thing. That afternoon's fishing produced some of the lovely rainbow trout for which the "Tal" is famous, and the group got their first taste of what playing a fish on a fly rod was all about. They practiced their delivery, mended line, and worked on avoiding drag until they declared that they were ready for salmon fishing the following morning, even if the alarm would go off at 5:00 a.m. We headed back to the lodge and had our first knot-tying lesson with a glass of wine and some wonderful stuffed mushroom appetizers. During the rest of the school they'd tie their own knots (right out on the river) as they increased their self-confidence and their ability to fish independently after the school. To get them ready for the next morning's fishing, Robert, the lodge's legendary chef, served one of his special salmon dishes along with warm fennel bread, sautéed squash, and a great pineapple upside down cake. We were stuffed, and pooped. The boats left the launch at 5:45 the next morning and we were fishing before 6:00 a.m. Glacial water from the Skwentna River had pushed up into the mouth of the "Tal" and forced us to start fishing higher up than we usually do, but it didn't take long until everyone got the hang of casting split shot and avoiding getting it stuck in the rocks. Then the hook-ups began. Calls of, "got one," and "fish on," kept me running from Carol to Sheila to Tanya to Carolyn to Kay and to Chris showing them how to set the hook or how to let the fish play so it didn't break off. "Whew," someone remarked, "these pink salmon are sure bigger than yesterday's trout." As we hiked back for brunch that morning Robert met us along the trail to tell us about the black bear that the dogs had chased up a tree at the lodge. We crept quietly toward the towering cottonwood tree to get a glimpse of the large black body with the cinnamon colored snout that was huddled on a branch about two-thirds of the way up the tree. We decided to head in for lunch and let it climb down and retreat in safety (for it and for us.) After a great brunch, we headed back out for more trout fishing. This time we had a lesson in dry-fly fishing along a beautiful long gravel bar with plenty of room for back-casts. Soon, some drag-free drifts began to get the attention of the fish and we were seeing hits all down the row of drifting flies. Now, they all had to learn how to set the hook on a fish with a dry fly. |
They were having so much fun it was hard to tear them away for the fly and gear selection lesson that came with that day's wine on the lodge deck. Robert had promised them corn bread stuffed pork chops for dinner, however, so they weren't too reluctant. When he surprised them with a magnificent chocolate cake for dessert they were glad they'd come home.
The third morning's salmon fishing was increasingly productive. They were really getting the hang of the cast, the drift, the hook-set and letting the fish play while keeping a tight line. We also had lots of practice in the techniques of catch and release. Chris caught a sockeye salmon, but couldn't keep it because of an emergency closure of that fishery due to low returns. As though he'd been invited, our black bear friend re-appeared at lunch. The dogs quickly treed him again, but this time we got to see him clammer up the large cottonwood right outside the window. As soon as we brought the dogs into the lodge he climbed back down and took off into the woods. We never saw him again. The afternoon brought some wonderful trout fishing. After a lesson in reading the water, Tanya and Chris located a lovely little run just packed with rainbows. The group took turns fishing it and everyone caught fish on their dry flies. They really had something to celebrate at that afternoon's wine & lesson. The chicken and apple strudel dinner topped it all off.
As usual, we hated to see it end even though the plane ride home produced sightings of bears, swans, and lots of moose. It was quite a school. Drop us a line and come on along next year!
Pudge |
Our last morning's fishing started out in rain and fog on the river plus even higher glacial water from the Skwentna River. So we headed up-river to fish. Soon, we beached the boat and waded into a lovely run along a bank topped with huge ferns and beautiful white birch trees. A pair of eagles watched the action from a nearby spruce. Everyone landed a salmon this time. Tanya, fishing the end of the run, was trying a leech pattern for the trout that she figured were holding behind a pair of spawning king salmon there. Suddenly, instead of a trout, one of the kings took the fly. The 25-30 lb fish was almost more than her 8-wt rod could handle. Although the fish was too big for the net, we managed to land it. It was a huge dark red fish ready to spawn. Just as we got it by the tail for a picture it threw the hook and took off back into the water. What a thrill!
by Pudge Kleinkauf
We just can't let a summer pass by without heading north to the lovely Tangle Lakes/Tangle River area of Interior Alaska. Located along the famous Denali Highway, the remoteness of the area, the myriad of birds and wildlife (to say nothing about the fish), and the relaxed wadeability of the area's creeks and rivers make this a fly fisher's dream.
As usual, we started out right smack in the middle of the crystal clear Tangle River near the campground. Even though it is quite accessible, the tree-lined back channels give this stretch of river plenty of "all to ourselves" fishable water. The gals had had some experience fishing with dry flies several years before, and only needed a few reminders about drag free drift, and narrow feeding lanes to start hooking up with the unbelievably beautiful Arctic grayling that populate this and every other waterway in the area. "Elk hair caddis, parachute Adams, and yellow humpies, the fish will take them all," Cynthia observed. "I love it when I don't have to spend lots of time trying to figure out what fly will bring success," she added. One right after the other, the sleek 10-14 inch fish were wrapping their small mouths around nearly every fly she cast to them. She was, needless to say, delighted. The others were having equal success. Mostly it was a matter of locating the narrow feeding lanes that grayling prefer. Just a few inches off and the fly will be ignored, they learned. Grayling simply don't like to move laterally to take a fly. They much prefer waiting patiently for their food to come to them just right. Up-river, down-river, and right at the spot where the river dumps into the lake, grayling lay in wait just for us, it seemed. We weren't able to fish the outlet of the upper lake because repairs were being done on a day-use parking area and a "keep out" sign marked the spot, but there were plenty of other possibilities. An evening glass of wine and a hearty dinner at the lodge sent everyone off to bed early, whether they were camping or staying at the lodge, and new adventures greeted us each day. Driving along the bumpy dirt road (rather mis-characterized as a "highway,") creek after creek offered fishing delights. After stopping to eat our tail-gate lunch one day, we decided to celebrate the gorgeous wild-flower dotted tundra with an up-river hike to some less accessible water and were rewarded with some absolutely 'wow!" fishing. |
The group had been working on learning some nymphing techniques and felt like they'd found the promised land in one long stretch of absolutely perfect grayling water.
Grayling like the edges of currents, long slow glides, water where two currents meet, and the very bottom of deep white water. Even though dry flies will take fish in all these circumstances, fishing deeper, more riffled water with weighted nymphs and a small split shot always seems to bring the big guys out to play. This trip was no exception. Soon there were matching each other fish for fish. "Look at this one," they'd call to one another, "look at this one." And, these were fifteen and sixteen-inch fish with spiny, graceful dorsal fins glowing with pink and aqua spots and gill plates gleaming mother of pearl tinged with blue and green. Their golden eyes looked directly into ours during each release. "I may not ever be able to leave this place," Chris said. "I thought I was hooked on salmon fishing, but this is every bit as wonderful. Fly fishing just seems to get better and better each time I do it," she added. The Tangle Lakes are a hard place to leave. Even though it's the fish that beckon us there, it's also the birds, the flowers, and the wildlife that make the trip so special. We made our routine stop at one of the small road-side lakes to watch the tundra swans that nest and raise their cygnets there each year, and scanned the red and gold hills for the white breasts and haunches of the caribou bulls leading the ever-moving herds on their southward migration. The ptarmigan and her almost grown-up chicks, along with the v-shaped flocks of honking geese, reminded us that the Alaska summer was all too short.
Pudge |
Our trip was all too short as well. I'm already dreaming about next year. Why not come along with us and try your hand at dry-fly and nymph fishing for Alaska's most under-appreciated fish.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Our annual trip to Nome on Alaska's Seward Peninsula just seems to get better and better every year. The Arctic grayling that we catch there also seem to get more and more beautiful the more often we see them. It isn't just the fish themselves, however, that make the trip so special, it's the fact that we can catch them on the surface so consistently.
Every morning we tumbled out of bed for bagels, cereal and coffee and made our lunch sandwiches in record time. Layered warmly against the morning chill, we were ready for the fish just as the rises began. At the outlet of a small feeder creek where salmon were spawning, we'd park the boat and wade in. We especially love grayling fishing, because, in spite of the fact that they are feeding on the eggs the salmon are laying, they will still take a well-placed elk-hair-caddis, yellow humpy, royal wulff or parachute Adams. As we see these sail-finned beauties drifted to the surface and opened their mouth, the group quickly learned to watch for one of their characteristic feeding method. Grayling frequently rise up over the top of the fly and take it as they re-enter the water. "Taking on the down" it's called and it's wonderful to see. Anne would station herself down river of the boat and proceed to cast away, moving slowly along every few casts. She soon saw for herself the fact that the largest grayling were generally at the head of the run, with the fish getting somewhat smaller as she moved downriver. Chris learned the same thing in a different spot, remarking on the fact that after awhile she figured that she'd caught every fish in a particular feeding lane and moved on to different water. Jill was learning to cast the fly and soon was able to put it just where she saw a fish rising. Then, of course, she had to work on the technique of setting the hook so as not to pull the fly out of the fish's mouth. The time absolutely flew by. Fishing below a different feeder creek one day we also located a gorgeous, slow run filled with both grayling and Dolly Varden char. Because the "dollies" were unexpectedly taking dry flies, the group had a great time trying to predict which species they had on the end of their line as the fly would disappear into a fish's mouth. Although all of them caught fish over 20 inches, it was at this little creek that Anne caught a 21 ½ inch grayling. It was a dazzling pewter gray with lustrous lavender spines and dots on its massive dorsal fin and a subtle glow of aqua on its shining gill plates. "Wow," she remarked. "This fish is really something special." She was right. A trophy grayling is typically no longer than about 18-inches, so a 20 or 21-inch fish is something to crow about. While they all hoped for one of the even-larger fish that are known to inhabit this river, it was not to be. Anne's was the trophy of the trip. |
Naturally, since there were salmon spawning, we also fished with egg-imitation flies. Chrys and Jill had the "bouncing" technique that we use down pat in no time, but Anne had more trouble with it. Being used to dry fly fishing with long casts and perfect accuracy, she struggled to get the hang of the short-line, short-distance method of getting the egg to just tumble along the bottom as the real thing does. She declared that she much preferred the surface fishing that she was so good at.
We also fished awhile for the silver salmon that were in the river. Having both 8-wt and 5-wt rods in the boat meant they could trade off when they wanted to. There were so few salmon around, however, that the Ak Department of Fish & Game instituted a ban on fishing for them when were there. Each afternoon we'd head back to camp, clean up, and then join John & Fran for a glass of wine on the deck and one of Fran's delicious dinners complete with homemade dessert. Our last afternoon, we headed in a little early because Fran had promised us some great blueberry picking right behind the camp. We stayed in our waders because the berry bushes were wet after the rain, traded our rods for pails, called the dog to accompany us as an early warning system for any bears, and took off.
Come next August we'll be right back to visit the grayling. Why not come along??
Pudge |
Fran was right. It was just a short walk to bushes absolutely bent-over with berries. We sat among the deepening reds, golds, and russets of the Fall tundra, marveling at the bright red low bush cranberries among the blueberry bushes and the stiff, white lichen moss that the caribou eat on their annual migration and thought about how lucky we were to be here. We picked until dinner time, then cleaned the fruits of our labors, stuffed ourselves, with a steak from the bar-b-que, and headed for bed. Unfortunately, we had to head home the next morning, but the berry picking was a great ending to a great trip.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
Big bows, small bows, medium bows, leopard bows and regular silvery bows, we caught them all on this year's Rainbow Heaven trip in late August. The fishing was absolutely marvelous!
The beauty of the Rainbow Heaven trip is that participants get to fish for all the gorgeous wild rainbows the Talachulitna River has to offer as well as the silver salmon that are returning to spawn in its upper reaches. That combination makes for outstanding fishing. As we do most years, we fished for salmon in the morning and rainbows in the afternoon. We'd pile out of bed before dawn, bleary-eyed and coffee dependent and head for the river. Bundled up to stay warm in the chilly pre-dawn air, we'd un-hook the fly and go to work as soon as the boat was beached on our favorite gravel bar. While silvers are notorious for their "turn on-turn off" behavior, mornings usually find them eager for the fight. These fish were no exception. Hook-ups occurred almost immediately every single morning. They certainly kept Justin and Matt busy cleaning and vacuum packing fish for the bar-b-que. It took awhile for some of the group to keep the fly hooked up to the fish, however. It's hard to explain just how bony a salmon's mouth is until someone actually has one on the end of the rod one second and gone the next. Most of the group had to learn that multiple hook-sets are required to stay connected to an eager fish. Chris and Mimi needed to practice that a bit before proceeding to land every fish they hooked. Whether our flies were fuscia, chartreuse, orange or purple, the fish were most accommodating. And, when things slowed down, we just changed to a different fly and typically turned them back on again. It was not unusual for everyone to have their limit of two fish within the first hour that we were fishing. That's hard to beat. It was the rainbows that we were really targeting, though, and after a humongous brunch at the lodge around 10:30 or 11:00 a.m., we headed up river with the 5-wts. Pink salmon were spawning in the river by the hundreds and eggs from chum and King salmon were also available. It was a veritable smorgasbord for the rainbows. Our job was to determine just which color the fish were taking, however, and then to match it as exactly as possible. Fortunately, there were enough loose eggs in the water that we could just pick some up and do a color comparison. Plastic beads generally give us the widest range of colors, but soft, chenille eggs are also successful. The group went to town with both types. We found rainbows waiting behind the salmon in almost every section of the river. Once everyone mastered the technique of bouncing the eggs along the bottom with a short line, leader, and split shot set-up they caught fish. At the beginning, though, I found myself saying "shorten your line" over and over again as their eggs floated rather than bounced. |
An up-river island proved to be great spawning habitat and thus great rainbow fishing. We'd work both sides of it, fishing our way slowly back toward the lodge for the various appetizers we knew were waiting before dinner. Then, once we those treats were gone, we'd head inside for Robert to surprise us with one of his culinary creations. He is a master, and never fails to have us stuffing ourselves to get fortified for another day of fishing. It seemed that Anne, Mimi, and Chris were constantly asking him for one recipe or another. Bill and Dave were eager for information on one dish or the other as well.
Most days the group landed so many fish in the 16-18 inch range that I had trouble keeping count of them for my guide report. I asked everyone to remember their own numbers so we could compare notes in the evening. Anne, who had just been fishing dry flies for grayling, admitted that she'd rather be catching the bows with dry flies too, but once she realized that these fish simply would not rise when there was so much protein in front of them, she got down to business with "the egg thing" as the others were doing. It was absolutely amazing this year how many of the rainbows caught were the very special leopard rainbows for which the Tal is known. Often one of the group would have a regular rainbow on when someone else would hook into a leopard. As the result they had a number of opportunities to see the two fish side by side and see for themselves just how different they can be. Leopard rainbows have a more caramel coloration and more blunt heads, while regular Tal rainbows sport the typical silvery sides and more pointed heads that people are used to seeing. They are a distinctly different strain of fish, and occur only in a few of Alaska's wild rivers.
Talstar Lodge always provides us with super trips. Whether it is the food, the fishing, or the hospitality, people never go away without great experiences. We have both our July fly fishing school for women and the August Rainbow Heaven trip planned at the Lodge again for next year. If you want to go along, you'd better get in touch with us soon. Both trips fill up fast.
Pudge |
Bill, an experienced trout angler, had never caught a leopard rainbow, and he was constantly showing the ones he landed to his wife, Mimi. One afternoon, it was she who absolutely couldn't miss, however, and she did the same to him. Chris and Dave were comparing notes with each other as well, but all of them as well as Anne were proud of their success.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
We arrived in the coastal town of Cordova to high winds and driving rain. "I hope this isn't a portent of things to come," someone said. As we drove into town from the airport we could see that the sloughs and channels of Prince William Sound's massive Copper River were indeed swollen with rain water. It was possible that some of the places that we'd likely fly out to would be less affected, so we headed to the lodge for dinner and some planning for the next day.
While the following day didn't prove much better as far as weather goes, we did get in some great casting practice in some ponds right near the beach that hold returning coho (silver) salmon and that were somewhat protected from the wind. We even got some hook-ups. T The following day was beautiful. Clear skies and no wind meant that we could fly or take the boat out to find silvers. Steve, the owner of Orca Lodge, opted for the boat and he loaded up, us, lunches, rods, reels, etc. and we took off. The Sound was gorgeous! The far off peaks, hung with glacier after glacier stood in sharp contrast to the water and the robin's egg blue sky. We stopped briefly to watch 100 or more sea otters feeding and playing around some kelp-covered rocks and took pictures like mad. "This is what I came to Alaska to see," Gary said. His wife, Sheryl agreed. It was the portent of good things to come. We hit the beach at one of Steve's favorite fishing spots and headed right to the waiting silvers. They were stacked up in some great holding water that was an easy cast from the beach. Victoria and Sheryl were new to fly fishing and still had some of the basic lessons of setting the hook and letting the fish play that every flyfisher ever born has had to learn. The two of them had do some practicing on some pink salmon that were still around, however, as they would take the flies meant for the silvers. Still, that proved to be good practice. Gary, Ray, and Marlene being more experienced, were hooking up regularly. The day provided everyone a chance to experience the acrobatic leaps and runs of bright fish just in from the ocean, and it wasn't long until everyone had fish. Many were keepers, but some proved to be the "tomatoes" that were turning a rusty red color as they prepared for spawning. They were still aggressive enough to hit the fly, though, and we carefully put them back to continue their mission. Steve flew us out to a crescent beach sporting a small creek that emptied into the surf for our next day's adventure. After a spectacular beach landing, we piled out and headed to the creek. Steve would return for us later. This creek is always something of a surprise because people can hardly believe that it holds fish. But, several wonderful pools up-stream were loaded on this particular day. I warned the group to be on the lookout for bears, as there were tracks and poop all around. |
Luckily we didn't see any of our 4-legged fishing friends, so we caught fish, released fish, and kept some fish throughout the day. When Steve returned he loaded the fish in the plane and hurried to take off with the in-coming tide practically lapping at the tires of the plane.
The following day Steve's mom, Gayle Ranney (the most famous woman bush pilot in Alaska) flew us over the incredible glaciers and ice fields on our way to another great area river. This time, the flooding that was so evident around Cordova also made this river nearly unrecognizable from the air. "The fish are in some different places because of the high water," Gayle said, but she managed to find them and put us down right next to them. Everybody was raring to go. Fish were moving just off the bank, and a few well placed casts began to produce results. In spite of the flooding, the water was shallow, so we had to wade carefully so as not to spook the fish away from us. As new pods of aggressive fish came in from the ocean, the action would get red-hot for awhile, and then calm down. The old expression, "I caught fish until my arms hurt," certainly held true this day. In mid-afternoon, Gayle quickly herded us all into the plane for the ride home as she had received a report of bad weather closing in fast. We just managed to beat it back to the Cordova airport before fog, clouds, and rain would have obscured her vision. Bad weather the following day kept us pinned down, so we traveled to a mountain-ringed lake that was reported to hold both cutthroat trout and silver salmon. After Ray hooked a silver on his third cast, all thoughts of cutthroat disappeared. They wanted silvers-and they got them. Once they figured out that the fish were laying just beside the main flow of the incoming creek, they placed their flies just the right spot time after time.
High water or not, it was a great trip. Lots of fish, great folks that enjoyed fishing together, wonderful staff at the lodge, and a flight back to Anchorage that was nothing short of spectacular. Why not come along with us as we head back in 2006??
Pudge |
Our last day found us stranded at the lodge with the boat that was supposed to take us fishing out of service. So, we made lemonade with the lemons and took the 40 mile drive to the breathtaking Childs Glacier and newly renovated Million Dollar Bridge (originally built in 1920). Along the way we saw swans and cygnets resting in a roadside pond preparing for the southward migration.
by Pudge Kleinkauf
It was a year of very low water, high winds, and one very cold and rainy day. Not the best of fishing weather, but usually the fish don't mind. This time, however, the silvers decided quite decisively that they would not enter the rivers without more water. We hunted for them at the river mouths on the in-coming tide, up-river in some of the few holes that had enough water to hold fish, and in lots of places in between, but the "biters" we were looking for were few and far between.
In spite of everything, this was one of the most persistent and intrepid groups that I've had the privilege of guiding in quite awhile. They simply refused to give up. They hiked, they waded, and they cast again and again to the few fish that we found. Catching mostly chum and pink salmon, instead of the silver we were after, they got disheartened, but didn't let that stop them. The first day out, they worked on their casts, their hook sets, and their reel-palming skills while catching lots of chum salmon with the brilliant red stripes that form as they head for their spawning grounds. These were large fish that put their 8-wt rods to the test. Teresa landed a fish that was easily twenty-pounds! They all managed to hook into a silver or two, but lost them during the fight. The thousands of pink salmon in the rivers proved easy to catch and there was no shortage of opportunities to practice catch and release. Finally Theresa successfully landed a silvery fish just in from the saltwater to the cheers of her compatriots. It was her first silver on a fly rod and she was justifiably proud of it. Our next day proved wet and very windy. Layered up for the conditions, we braved stinging raindrops and gusts so strong they made it impossible to cast. Finally we retreated to a nearby roadhouse for a hot cup of coffee and a hamburger. After drying out somewhat, we stopped at river on the way back to town to try out luck with Dolly Varden Char. We didn't get much cooperation there either. Wet, cold, and bedraggled, we headed in for dry clothes, a glass of wine, and a good dinner. Another memorable morning we stood at the mouth of the Pasagshak River just as the tide started to come in to see if we couldn't ambush some silvers just as they entered fresh water. With their backs completely out of the water, the fish or two that attempted the entry headed by us so fast we barely got three or four quick casts to them before it was too late. Both Joan and Teresa found it impossible to set the hook satisfactorily on the few hits that resulted. Four large seals paroled the mouth of the river discouraging many of the fish from even attempting to get by them. |
As the tide water rapidly filled the basin where we stood in quickly shifting sands, we could see small pods of fish actually turning around and returning to the salt water because the river was so low. It was interesting if discouraging.
The rivers had opened for fishing above the highway bridges that day, so, in the afternoon we hiked up to see what we could find. There weren't many fish up-river either, but we found one hole that held several silvers and lots of Dollies. The day was warm and the water low, but we didn't let that stop us. The fish were finning almost motionless in the oxygen-depleted water and Teresa took that opportunity to cast repeatedly to a fish that was holding just off the bank. He was having none of it, though, and even a couple of fly changes didn't manage to excite him. Pam had rigged up for Dollies and was having some success. A few of the carmine-spotted beauties took her pink bead convinced that it was a salmon egg. Soon, however, she switched over to try for the silvers that moved sluggishly in the pool and landed a large buck for her efforts. Another, smaller fish quickly followed. Finally we had something to show for all our effort. Since at least some fish were entering the rivers on the in-coming tides, (even though they frequently turned around and went back out again) we figured that our best chance for fish was at the mouth of one of the rivers. So, on our last day we headed to the beach and cast away as the water rose. Pam and Joan both stood right in the midst of several small pods of fish swimming back and forth and managed to get several bites. Setting the hook proved difficult, though, because we couldn't tell which direction the fish's head was pointing.
What a great bunch of women. What a non-stop effort to catch fish. And, what a great time we had in spite of the reluctant fish. May next year provide better results!
Pudge |
Soon, the water was too high to cast into the main channel where the fish were, so we took down the rods, took off our waders, and headed back to town. WE had a couple of hours before we had to catch our plane so we visited one of the lovely small museums that was open and enjoyed wine and appetizers before heading to the plane.
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