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The northern pike can
attain massive sizes, especially in the vast, remote, and virtually unknown
watersheds of Alaska’s Yukon River drainage. As pike angler Boris Popov
says, “Nowhere else in North America can you truly pioneer an area where the
odds of catching a 30-pound-plus pike are as good as anywhere in the world.”
Layers of gray hang in defiance of the promised sun. What
there is of terra firma nearby exists as mere clumps of soggy earth,
chaotically arranged between the myriad waters that stretch out like so many
veins of life. Space is pronounced up here, the surrounding landscape as
vast as the heavens that loom overhead.
The flat-bottomed riverboat softly sways on water so still
one forgets there is any breeze at all. An angler’s arm arcs back for a
final time, the rod loads in a deliberate forward stroke, and line sails
into the crisp spring air, settling lazily on the undisturbed surface. He
strips once, then twice; short, quick movements of his hand, as he fully
descends into that murky realm between feeling and understanding that only
anglers share. His eyes follow the inkling of a wake that trails the bulky
fly, and the world grows dull.
There are other eyes following the streamer creation, for
beneath the placid exterior lurks one of the planet’s fiercest ambush
predators. Old Eskimo and Athabaskan lore recalls giant marauders willing to
take on the largest of prey, even man. It’s in those haunted waters that the
angler works his fly.
As he strips line and the surface ripples spread into a
tailing V, the devilfish lies in wait. Like a tyrant it stalks these
northern waters, its baleful golden eyes searching for that ideal
opportunity to spring from the shallows in a lightning swift strike.
Suddenly there is a swish of movement. Breathing stops, the water swirls,
and the fly disappears in an explosion of sight and sound. The line snaps
tight and the rod buckles as an angler and his quarry begin their timeless
dance. It’s a scene of exhilaration, a battle waged against only the most
rapacious of freshwater fish—a battle waged only when the hunter becomes the
hunted.
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PREDATORY PERFECTION
The northern pike has been harpooned with a much-maligned
existence in Alaska, for many of the reasons that make it such a
sought-after species in other regions of the world. Old Sourdoughs and
commercial fishermen alike disdained the species. Tradition and life itself
revolved around the Pacific salmon, and the pike, with its well-earned
reputation as a piscivorous glutton, was viewed as a threat. It still is in
many Alaskan eyes today.
This stealthy predator makes its living by vanishing into
bottom structure and submerged weed beds and then simply waiting for its
prey to swim by. With a powerful thrust of its tail, the pike will rocket
from its hiding place to attack. Concentrating on larger forage, they will
often swallow fish a third their own length, sometimes even attempting to
eat prey over one-half their size or larger. This insatiable penchant to
feed, coupled with the tremendous size mature specimens have been known to
achieve, makes the pike an inviting target for sport fishers the world-over.
It’s one case where the nature of the fish and the nature of the fisherman
combine to form the perfect compliment to each other.
Northern pike are opportunistic, voracious feeders
programmed to eliminate the weak. Their keen predatory disposition is
matched with endowments perfectly suited for the job. Their coloring varies
and often depends on the waters where the fish can be found, an evolutionary
development that relates to their ability to conceal themselves. In clear
water under a bright sun, their visual acuity is excellent, especially
upward and to either side, which allows them to hold in concealment while
scanning their territory for another victim. The inner ear and a long
lateral line detect the slightest vibration, another advantage in locating
prey. Once located, that prey doesn’t have a chance. A single, soft-rayed
dorsal fin situated far back on the body works in conjunction with ventral
and tail fins to provide incredible acceleration, aiding the slender, almost
serpentine pike in both open-water pursuit and when attacking quarry from
cover. After arriving at their destination, the pike employs the
approximately 700 backward-slanting canine teeth that adorn its duck-billed
jaws, tongue, gillrakers, and the roof of its mouth to grip and devour the
overmatched prey.
Pike are known to travel extensively in search of food,
and a single specimen will annually consume three to four times its body
weight. Fish are the preferred fodder, and it really doesn’t matter which
kind. They will feed on whitefish, suckers, Cisco, grayling, trout, juvenile
salmon, and even other pike, as well as insects, frogs, mice, shrews,
ducklings, and shore birds. The biggest pike have even been known to make a
meal of larger animals such as the beaver and the muskrat.
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PIKE PARTICULARS
The pike (Esox lucius) enjoys a circumpolar range—from
northern Italy and Spain to Scandinavia and from Ireland to the far eastern
shores of Siberia. In North America, pike are home in northern freshwaters
from Nebraska to the Arctic coast. It is the most widely distributed
freshwater fish in the world and has obviously been around for some time.
Esox is the old Latin name for pike and was used as early as Pliny, who
wrote in Rome in the first century of the Common Era. Lucius likewise
derives from the Latin, and probably evolved from the Greek lukos, “wolf,”
an obvious allusion to the predatory habits of the fish. The common name is
short for pike-fish, a reference to the long, pointed snout resembling the
pike, an iron-tipped staff much used as a weapon since at least the
thirteenth century.
While well documented in the angling literature handed
down through the ages, the pike is perhaps only recently beginning to gain
serious attention as a gamefish in Alaska, and much remains to be learned
about this hardy predator and the vast northern watersheds it inhabits.
It is known that most Alaska pike overwinter in the deep,
slow waters of large rivers and lakes, as their shallower counterparts
become depleted of oxygen. With the onset of the thaw, adult northerns
migrate en masse from their deep-water winter retreats to take up positions
in the shallow margins of lake shores, slow-moving streams, sloughs, and
flooded areas of vegetation, where spawning commences. After completing
their reproductive duties, the spent adult pike remain in the shallows for
anywhere between one and four months and engage in a feeding frenzy. They
are extremely vulnerable to anglers both during spawning and immediately
afterward.
The robust nature of the northern pike is legendary.
They’ve developed an almost uncanny ability to infiltrate new watersheds,
which again contributes to the mantle of contempt that’s been bestowed upon
the species by their many critics. During recent decades, pike populations
have become established in streams south of the Alaska Range, most commonly
through illegal transplants. Specifically, they can now be found prowling
waters in and around Anchorage, on the Kenai Peninsula, and especially among
the many slow-flowing sloughs and clearwater drainages of the Susitna River
system. However, the pike is indigenous to much of Alaska and has long been
a favorite of the Yupik people in Southwest and Interior subsistence and
sport anglers. Their native range extends from the Alaska Range north to the
Arctic coast, from the Canadian border west to the Seward Peninsula, and
from there southwest to the Bristol Bay drainages. Other than a small,
isolated population near Yakutat, a remnant of the last ice age, the pike is
absent from Southeast.
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PIONEERING FOR PIKE IN THE LAST FRONTIER
Still virtually untapped, the northern pike fishery in
Alaska is as filled with potential as it is immense. Millions of acres of
prime habitat make the Last Frontier a prolific pike territory, and though
tales of the quantities of fish that can be found might seem less than
credible, it’s not just a numbers game. Larry Dahlberg, one of the world’s
foremost anglers and an expert on pike behavior, has spent several summers
in Alaska’s more northern latitudes exploring for monster fish, and he
maintains, “The next world-record pike will come out of Alaska.”
Sport fishing for northerns hasn’t always been a popular
topic for many Alaskans, and it still isn’t in several areas of the state.
However, northern pike are an integral fish to their home waters of interior
and western Alaska, where they have established a balance with other native
species. One only has to look at an area like the lower Nushagak River to
see this natural balance working perfectly, as a healthy pike population
coexists with the hundreds of thousands of salmon that return annually to
the waters of the Nush. They are not native to Southcentral, though, and
northern pike are capable of rapidly altering the entire species complex of
a watershed when they invade—or are illegally introduced—into a new
environment.
As late as the 1950s, there were no pike present in upper
Cook Inlet drainages. It’s now theorized that the species was able to gain a
foothold in the Susitna River system through a series of illegal stockings,
and by the 1997-1998 fishing seasons, the harvest of northerns from the
Matanuska-Susitna Valley had surpassed that from the state’s interior areas,
the previous leader and the region where the largest native pike populations
can be found. As a whole, the Susitna drainage covers tens of thousands of
square miles and contains innumerable shallow lakes, sloughs, and clearwater
tributaries that are prime northern pike spawning and rearing habitat. The
drainage is also a hotbed for salmon-chasing sport fishermen, who have a
legitimate gripe with pike. Currently, the Alaska Department of Fish and
Game estimates that as many as 30,000 fewer adult salmon return to the
Susitna drainage each year due to the illegal introduction of pike.
Unlike these Mat-Su watersheds, where pike have been
documented in more than 80 lakes and 45 streams, not much is known about
current populations on the Kenai Peninsula. However, a dead northern was
found at the confluence of the Russian and Kenai rivers in 2000, which was
enough to make nearly every Alaskan angler’s heart skip a beat. The most
recent discoveries have been made in several Anchorage area waters, though,
where pike have been reported for over a decade and seem to have gained in
strength. The ADF&G website (www.sf.adfg.state.ak.us) has a list of known
and suspected Southcentral pike waters, as well as detailed directions to
some of these lakes and streams.
As you move north and into the pike’s native range in
Alaska, especially around the bountiful waters of the Tanana River and the
sprawling reaches of the state’s two largest river systems, the Yukon and
the Kuskokwim, logistics become more difficult. The best pike habitats are
in low-lying floodplains, lakes, and wetlands and are usually accessible
only by plane or riverboat.
The Tanana is actually a major tributary of the Yukon and
originates from meltwater draining off immense glaciers in the Wrangell
Mountains. Since much of its nearly 500 miles is silty from the glacial
influence, the bulk of the sport fishing potential is concentrated in upland
tributaries and in the sloughs, lakes, and slower streams of the area’s
flats. Some of the most prolific pike waters in the region are found in the
Minto Flats, an 800-square-mile wetland complex in the Tolvana River
drainage west of Fairbanks. Another productive drainage is that of the
Kantishna River, which hosts abundant northern populations in East Twin,
West Twin, Mucha, and Wein lakes. Lake Minchumina and many smaller waters,
including more than a few within Denali National Park, are also noted
producers, as is George Lake near Delta Junction, Fish Creek, and the oxbow
lakes and sloughs of the Goodpaster Flats area.
Moving west from where the Tanana empties into the Yukon
near Manley Hot Springs, one encounters phenomenal pike habitat nearly every
step of the way. Boris Popov, who has a self-proclaimed passion for pike
fishing, has chased the toothy predators throughout the U.S., Canada,
Russia, and Germany. Over the last decade he has focused primarily on the
Yukon River and its tributaries, however, and maintains that conquering the
logistics of fishing such a massive and remote watershed remains the most
daunting task. “Getting to the Yukon is never easy, or cheap,” Popov
explains. “If one wants to fish the upper river, a flight to Fairbanks with
a connection to Manley Hot Springs is fairly routine. >From there one can
slide down the Tanana River and in a few hours be fishing the Yukon, making
it as far as Galena in a few days time.” The main stem of the Yukon itself
doesn’t yield the extensive sport fishing opportunities of its many
clearwater tributary drainages, due to a turbid nature that’s especially
prevalent in summer months. Popov added his belief that a knowledgeable,
effective guide is a must for success in this river system, as the number of
likely looking watersheds can be astronomical.
The Yukon Flats, an expansive wetland between Circle and
Stevens Village, is one such area, noted for its tens of thousands of
interconnected lakes and slow-moving backwaters, many of which hold copious
populations of pike. Farther downriver is the confluence with the Wild and
Scenic Nowitna River. The surrounding wetlands within the Nowitna National
Wildlife Refuge, which contains more than 14,000 lakes and small ponds, are
yet another haven for significant numbers of northern pike. Also productive
among central Yukon tributaries are the Melozitna and Tozitna river systems,
the latter of which contains a profusion of whitefish for the pike to prey
upon.
If possible, the Yukon River becomes even more remote and
the pike fishing less charted in the next leg. As Popov explained, “In the
area between Galena and Holy Cross you have a few hundred miles of what
seems to be the wildest portion of the river, with a multitude of rivers and
slow-moving creeks that offer pike possibilities.” Near the end of this
stretch, anglers can first encounter the Innoko River drainage, perhaps the
greatest trophy pike producer among all of Alaska’s world-class habitat. An
enormous lowland tributary of the Yukon with plenty of meandering,
interconnected sloughs and lakes, the Innoko features a rich environment for
northern pike: big, slow water and abundant Cisco and whitefish populations.
The Innoko’s major tributary, the Iditarod River, is itself nearly 350 miles
long and is thought to be another phenomenal producer in an area already
recognized as one of the world’s great pike locales. Popov cements that
reputation. “It was in this area we experienced one of our most memorable
‘pike frenzies,’ when four people stood at the bow of the boat, made four
simultaneous casts, and caught four pike—all over 20 pounds and all on video
for the skeptics.”
Continuing toward the coast leads one into a broad,
isolated delta where the two largest rivers in the Last Frontier spill their
waters within 200 miles of each other. It is one of the planet’s great
wetland habitats and as a sport fishery, remains nearly unexplored. “The
Yukon River below Holy Cross to the Yukon Delta is an enormous question
mark,” agrees Popov, “but an exciting one. Even a quick look at a map will
yield thousands of lakes and rivers that cry out as pike habitat.” At least
two drainages in the area—the Wild and Scenic Andreafsky north of the
village of St. Mary’s and the Anvik—are known to contain good to great pike
fishing opportunities. “Locals do tell of large pike being taken here,”
Popov said. “But very little, if any serious sport fishing has taken place.”
It’s his intention to change that. “In 2003 we’re embarking on a ‘pike
hike,’ a dedicated two-week exploratory trip from Holy Cross to St. Mary’s.
I anticipate we’ll find pockets of fantastic pike fishing interspersed with
hours of bone-rattling river travel and frustration from too much or too
little water, fuel scarcities, and the Alaska climate.”
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TARGETING THE ULTIMATE HUNTER
Pike that inhabit lower latitudes are quite predictable;
they usually can be followed in their spring, summer, and fall migrations
without much difficulty, especially the lake fish. One key is water
temperature, as pike are very sensitive and move to remain within their
limited comfort zone. Another is the pike’s love of a good meal. For
example, a typical Hexagenia hatch in the summer will bring smaller pelagic
fish into the shallows to feed on the insects. The pike in turn follow and
target the baitfish. As Larry Dahlberg explains, though, the extreme water
fluctuations from early snowmelt and the large amounts of forage available
can combine to make Alaska’s northerns more of a challenge to locate. “The
transient nature of Alaska pike makes them unique; they follow the food and
subtle temperature changes in many major river systems. Couple that with the
fact there is such tremendous spawning habitat in the spring with the high
water and their river range is expansive.” Boris Popov agrees. “I love to
fish and I love to hunt,” says Popov, “but what I love most is when I can
hunt for fish. The pursuit of trophy Alaska northern pike requires, actually
it necessitates, that you hunt for them.”
To begin with, the spring angler should focus his
attention in the shallows around weed beds. Typically, the pike will migrate
towards near-shore heat-gathering basins and bays for the spawning season.
The darker bottom in these areas is often significantly warmer than the
surrounding cooler and deeper water. Also, don’t discount any oxbow lakes or
flooded back channels on salmon streams, as in Alaska, small baitfish can
often merely be a compliment to the stronger, river-bred pike’s diet.
After the spawning season ends sometime in early to
mid-June, the larger fish will linger on the edge of deep water and heavy
vegetation until freeze-up. However, Dahlberg explains that because of the
Far North’s relatively stable cold water, anglers must remain mobile. “In
Alaska, water fluctuation is more important than temperature. The pike move
around a lot, so location is everything.” Later in the year, when water
temperatures do rise, the bigger fish will again travel to find comfort.
Look for a location where cool water flows into an isolated spot that allows
it to collect (a lot of current will dissipate the fresh influx of water and
negate its effect). Specifically, backwater sloughs and in the glacial-green
mix where slow-flowing streams empty into silty rivers are good places to
begin.
Dahlberg explained that he uses a systematic approach to
find pike in unknown water, and then he concentrates his efforts there. This
method is similar to fishing for steelhead in the big rivers of the Pacific
Northwest, where an angler will create an imaginary grid over the river and
cast a searching pattern to each section until the fish are located. Lure
selection and presentation can be fine-tuned after the fish have been found.
Still, even veteran pike anglers can find themselves
grasping for answers when searching for the water wolf on some of Alaska’s
more remote waterways. “As we expanded our exploration of the Yukon/Innoko
area in the early 1990s, we slowly began to understand how truly unique this
pike fishery is,” remembered Popov. “It demanded a different approach, and
it demanded patience, because of the fickle nature of these rivers and
because they encompass such a huge area. In my frequent conversations with
Alaska fish biologists, the consensus was that there just was no consensus,
that the pike fishing could be fabulous or nonexistent in certain vast
reaches of the Yukon watershed. No one really knew, or knows today.”
But that’s part of the allure of chasing these sleek
predators: the unknown. From the literature of antiquity to legends passed
on in the dancing hues of a smoldering campfire, what is fact and what is
myth seems to blur when it comes to northern pike. There is no universally
accepted world-record pike, and almost no one will even attempt to argue
that the standing Alaska record, a 38.5-pound hammerhead taken in 1991, is
the largest pike caught in the Last Frontier. The last year alone has
produced several unauthenticated reports, dimensions, and photographs of
supposed bigger fish. As Larry Dahlberg, Boris Popov, and countless tales
from Alaska’s fraternity of anglers—ancient and modern—attest, the monster
pike are out there, prowling just beneath the surface of waters both known
and unknown. For some, to chase them is to forge a living bond with the
wild, with the past, and if justice reigns, with the future as well. These
adventuresome few will inevitably find themselves alone one gray Alaskan
morning, drifting on some secluded waterway a hundred miles from nowhere,
hardly daring to breathe as a streamer settles onto the surface, and
wondering just for a moment if what they hunt might not also be hunting
them.
The author would like to thank Larry Dahlberg, Boris
Popov, and Fish Alaska technical editor Tony Weaver for relating their
wealth of pike knowledge and angling experience, which aided
immeasurably in the completion of this article.
Troy Letherman is the editor of Fish Alaska
magazine and can be reached at
tletherman@fishalaskamagazine.com
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