|
“I’ve got him this
time,” Patti said as the tip of her 5-weight fly rod danced with the heft of
a nice Arctic grayling. She’d had several hits-and-misses as her elk-hair
caddis drifted down the tea-colored water of the Tangle River, but this was
a solid hook-up. “I finally remembered to wait just a second or two before
lifting the rod tip when I saw the hit,” she reported, “and it paid off.”
Paid off is right! The bend in her
rod indicated a larger fish than is typical for the area, and it took some
patience for her to land it. Finally, there it was in all its shimmering
glory, a 17-inch hog with a spiny, florescent-dotted dorsal fin so long that
it lay draped over the fish’s tail.
“He was definitely worth waiting
for,” she said while admiring the catch and lifting his prodigious fin for a
picture before carefully removing the hook. He rested briefly in her hand as
he revived and then darted away.
Although not all this size, it’s the
presence of Arctic grayling in every stream and every lake in the Tangle
Lakes area of Alaska’s Denali Highway that makes the region so famous.
The Tangle Lakes Region
The only road link to Mount McKinley
National Park from 1957 when it opened until the completion of the Parks
Highway in 1972, the 135-mile-long Denali Highway now connects the Parks
with the Richardson Highway north of Anchorage. It offers the traveler two
possibilities for access to Tangle Lakes. The first choice is to enter from
the west via the town of Cantwell, at Milepost 209 of the Parks Highway. The
second option is to begin on the eastern end from milepost 185 of the
Richardson Highway, a road famous for its hummocks turned to corduroy by
winter frost heaves.
From Cantwell, the drive to Tangle
Lakes is a 100-plus-mile marathon on a narrow gravel road, so most anglers
use the Richardson Highway entrance on the east. From there it’s only 22
miles on a paved road to reach the water. The paved section takes off from
the tiny hamlet of Paxson, where a famous lodge serves the best hamburgers
and pie for miles around, and ends at the Tangle Lakes/Tangle River area of
the highway.
(Click
for larger view)
Besides leading to this premier
dry-fly grayling fishery, however, this end of the highway is also a scenic
delight. Shortly after leaving Paxson, the first pullout along the road
provides a stunning introduction to the area. On a clear day, views of
Icefall Peak and the Gakona and Gulkana glaciers rise above an unbelievable
panorama of lakes, valleys, and mountains.
In spite of the paving, this portion
of highway always feels particularly remote and inscrutable to me. The area
is more hilly than mountainous, and constantly shifting cloud-shadows lend a
secretive quality to the vastness spread out in every direction. Here tiny
lakes, resting at the base of glacier-carved valleys, sparkle like jewels
tossed randomly across the treeless expanse. In a land of few roads, the
Denali Highway is unique in its desolate beauty and mystery.
The Tangle Lakes and Tangle River are
an integral part of that mystique. This area harbors the remnants of a
nomadic people who for thousands of years engaged in a subsistence lifestyle
centered around the migrations of caribou that modern hunters refer to as
the Nelchina herd. Over 400 excavated sites contain “some of the densest
concentrations of archaeological resources in the North American
sub-arctic,” according to a BLM informational brochure on the area.
The presence of these ancient hunters
seems to manifest itself in the shifting veils of rain or fog that often
obscure the hills, and in the caribou bones we find buried among the soft
tundra moss. At times I can almost feel them with us on the river; I even
find myself expecting to come upon them as we turn a brushy corner on a
stream or top a hill that we are approaching. Surely they, too, fished for
the native grayling and lake trout on their journeys across the area.
Unlike the hunters of old, who
wandered far and wide throughout the region, most of today’s civilization
centers around the Tangle Lakes. The area boasts a large campground on a
ridge overlooking Round Tangle Lake and a smaller wayside and camping area
tucked in beside the Tangle River as it emerges from Upper Tangle Lakes.
Both have boat launches. Two well-known lodges provide services for
visitors. Both offer food, lodging, cocktails, tire repair service, showers,
and information. One has gas for sale (usually), and the other is known for
its birding tours and expertise. Both have canoe rental services.
Modern day visitors are both
recreationists and hunters. The caribou, the scenic location, and the
abundant fishing opportunities in the area afford lots of possibilities.
It’s the myriad of waters that make it all possible.
 The Lakes and the River
The wide, hilly expanse of the Tangle
Lakes area creates the geographic divide between the Delta and the Gulkana
rivers, both designated National Wild and Scenic Rivers. Anglers, canoeists,
hikers, mountain bikers, birders, and, when in season, hunters, all use the
area extensively.
A series of long, narrow lakes, the
first two of which are connected by the Tangle River, form the headwaters of
the Delta River. A popular float trip begins at the boat launch at the
campground and proceeds through Round, Long, and Lower Tangle Lakes to the
Delta. Rafters can then continue on for a 29-mile float, including a
half-mile portage around two falls to the takeout at Milepost 212 on the
Richardson Highway.
The Gulkana River drainage can also
be reached from the area. That trip begins at the wayside boat launch at
Milepost 21.5 on Upper Tangle Lake and requires a mile-long portage from
there to Dickey Lake in the Gulkana drainage.
The Tangle River, draining Upper into
Round Tangle Lakes, rushes and tumbles along a rocky, meandering course
interspersed by small brushy islands. The slightly rust-colored water in
riffles and pools shadowed by birch, alder, and willow makes for perfect
grayling habitat.
The Fish and the Fishing
Arctic Grayling
As we arrived on the creek early one
morning, dimples, swirls, and blips marked the places where the grayling
found their sustenance and identified the feeding lanes for the anglers. We
were ready to get to work, and the fish were ready to cooperate.
Karen had selected a spot where the
water dropped off a small rock ledge and then continued down a beautiful
slow run. Fish rises broke the water everywhere. “I can sure see why
accuracy is essential,” she commented as I waded down to see how she was
doing. “If my fly is even a couple of inches out of the zone, the fish won’t
move over to get it. It really is important to be ‘right on’ the feeding
lane.” Every time she was able to put that rule into practice and drifted
her #14 yellow humpy to the fish just right, she was hooking up.
“Look at this beautiful girl,” she
said as she lifted a 12-inch prize just above the water so everyone could
see what she meant. This fish had freckles!
Grayling typically have a black spot
or spots along their sides just behind their gill plates, and each fish’s
spot pattern is different. This fish’s spots were unique because they were
so small and because they were right on her gill plates. I’d never seen any
grayling quite like her. Too bad none of us had a camera capable of doing
her justice.
As they increase in size, Alaska’s
grayling exhibit brilliant aqua, fuscia, purple, and azure hues along their
dorsal, ventral, and pectoral fins. A pearlized emerald glow typically
rouges gill plates and tail. The dorsal fins can be huge, especially in
large males, and it is not uncommon to see them drape along beyond the
adipose fin and across the tail. Patti’s fish was a good example. Until
taken from the water, the iridescence of the colors is absolutely
indescribable. As all grayling anglers know, pictures hardly ever do them
justice.
Both dry flies and nymphs were
working this particular morning, and fish after fish came to hand. No one
was going without fish, and no one was complaining if their “trophy” was
only 10 or 12 inches long. Everyone simply marveled at the quick response
from the fish to a well-placed offering.
Across the river some anglers fishing
with extra small spinners were also doing well. They were using single,
barbless hooks and also releasing fish. One of that group also had a fly rod
with him, and we watched him switch off to it when he noticed us doing well
on dry flies. “There really is some magical connection between grayling and
flies,” he laughed.
He’s right. Study after study has
proven that grayling’s preferred diet is aquatic and terrestrial insects, in
all stages of development. Their cooperative nature and their penchant for
bugs are two of the things that make them the perfect fish for anglers
wanting to learn to flyfish.
“Why is it that grayling are so
cooperative?” someone asked. “They never seem to stop eating, yet they are
relatively small fish.”
A seemingly endless appetite
characterizes grayling as much as does the sail-shaped dorsal fin. Yet, they
are the slowest growing of Alaska’s sport fish. Studies show that a
twelve-inch fish is probably already five to six years old, while a
nineteen-inch fish can be ten years old or more. Recent studies indicate
that grayling may have a much longer life span than originally thought. A
fish over seventeen or eighteen inches in length is considered a trophy
anywhere.
In spite of their voracious feeding
habits, the grayling’s small size can be attributed to their harsh
environment and their failure to feed in winter. Grayling spend the winter
in deep pools under the ice. They survive there in oxygen levels much lower
than either rainbows or char could tolerate and feed very little during that
time. Since grayling spawn in the spring, they must feed ravenously all
summer to develop the eggs and sperm for the following year’s spawning
before winter arrives. No wonder they’re eating all the time!
Just because grayling are small fish
doesn’t mean they can’t put a real bend in a 5-weight rod, however. Their
eagerness to take a properly presented fly and their plucky spirit when
hooked make them a favored sport fish of Alaskans and visitors alike.
Because they are so cooperative and
so slow-growing, though, grayling populations are easily impacted by
over-fishing. Single barbless hooks are recommended and the “limit your
kill, don’t kill your limit” ethic is also embraced by many who fish the
area. Both efforts help to ensure the continuation of healthy, strong
populations of fish.
Lake Trout
Anglers at Tangle Lakes also target
lake trout, especially in the spring and fall, when they are known to feed
at the mouths of the creeks that enter or drain the lakes. Fishing for them
can be dynamite. And just to make things more exciting, sight-casting is
usually possible at these times.
“What’s that?” Linda cried as a
large, dark shape drifted into view among the eager grayling that she was
casting to one June day. This phantom dwarfed the fifteen-inch grayling she
had just released. “It looks like that big fish was trying to eat the fish I
just released,” she said. “Is it a pike?”
“Nope,” I told her, “It’s a lake
trout.”
We were fishing just up from the
mouth of a small creek that fed one of the tundra lakes along the highway in
which lake trout are known to be present. As she peered down in to the
deeper water just where the creek entered the lake, she could see several
more large shapes. “There’s more of them right here,” she told the group.
“Let’s fish for them instead.”
I had brought a couple of 8-weight
rods along and told the group to keep fishing for grayling while I walked
back to the van to get them. Soon, a couple of #4 olive zonkers and
sinking-tip lines were busy tempting lakers.
Following my advice to “make your
flies look like fleeing little bait fish in the shallows,” both rods were
soon hooked-up. The gyrations that lake trout are known for soon resulted in
a “fish-off” for Joanie, however. Seeing that, Barb quickly set the hook a
second time so as not to lose her fish, too.
“Wow, this is one strong fish,” she
announced as her arm got more and more tired. “This must be a monster.”
When she finally brought her fish to
the bank, she was surprised that it was only about a four or five-pounder.
“He certainly fought as hard as a ten-pounder,” she declared. His large head
and yellowish spots were something they wouldn’t soon forget.
Because aquatic insects and forage
fish, such as sculpin, are both available in the shallows in the spring,
that’s what anglers need to imitate. Spinners or streamer flies are both
effective at this time, as are nymphs such as gold ribbed hare’s ears and
pheasant tails. Black woolly buggers, large, silvery smolt-like patterns,
sparkly zonkers, and even large pike patterns work well throughout the year.
Spinners and spoons in black, silver, gold or chartreuse are also deadly.
Visitors who bring canoes, pontoon
boats, kayaks, and float tubes to the area frequently direct their fishing
efforts toward lake trout instead of (or as well as) grayling. In the
summer, that means trolling, as lake trout generally descend to cooler water
as the water warms. Forage fish such as whitefish and small grayling provide
the bulk of the lake trout’s summer diet, along with the ever-present
leeches.
Except in spring, lake trout are
known to inhabit the thermocline, those layers of water that separate
different temperature zones and typically occur in about ten feet of water.
Most successful anglers employ fish-finders of various types to locate this
depth and then use weight or sink-tip lines in order to keep their flies or
lures in the right area.
Fly anglers can also use the
“count-down” method to help find fish-holding areas. Cast out the fly and
then “count down” slowly to a particular number such as twenty as it sinks.
Next, begin retrieving the fly, now counting backwards from twenty. Remember
the number you were at when a fish hits. That will tell you how far to count
down on your next cast to put your fly in the strike zone.
Whitefish
Tangle Lakes’ anglers don’t generally
target whitefish for their fishing adventures. These fish can, however,
provide some great fun on a fly rod or on an ultra-light spinning rod. One
lovely, quiet evening as I was sitting beside the fire after I thought
everyone else had gone to bed, one of the women with me returned from a walk
down to the lake. “I can see lots and lots of big grayling holding on the
bottom, just where the creek enters the lake,” Nancy said. “Could we go down
and fish for them? There’s no one there.”
It was a delightful evening, and
Nancy was right, there was no one else there. The wind was calm, and the sky
had edged the clouds with orange and gold borders. The bugs were bad, but we
had our head-nets on, so we could fish in peace. The water was so clear we
could both see a large school of fish just holding in the gentle outflow. I
was pretty sure that they were whitefish, but there was only one way to find
out.
I’d told Nancy that we’d have to use
our sink-tip lines and a split-shot to get down to the fish, but she was
ready for anything. We put on a gold-ribbed hare’s ear nymph and went to
work.
“Keep your line and your cast short,”
I advised. “That way your fly should bounce right to them along on the
bottom.” As I watched Nancy fish I could tell that she was having hits on
her fly, but she had too much slack in her line to set the hook effectively.
After we fixed that problem, the next fish that hit got hooked. The fish
didn’t seem very active and held stubbornly on the bottom. Nancy realized
that she’d just have to wear it out to land it, but it wasn’t long before we
began moving toward the bank for the release. “This certainly isn’t a
grayling,” Nancy observed as she brought the fish from the water. “It has
the same scales and basically the same shape, but the head is different and
it doesn’t have the big dorsal fin. What is it?”
She was surprised when I told her it
was a whitefish, a cousin of the grayling. She had seen for herself that
they are primarily bottom feeders and seldom will rise to a dry fly. “I love
to see and learn about the different fish,” she said as she returned to the
water and proceeded to catch several more before we finally did call it a
night.
The Wildlife
Populated by caribou, moose, fox,
beaver, wolf, bear, porcupine, river otters, ground squirrels, ptarmigan, a
variety of birds and ducks, and, during the summer, the occasional swan,
wildlife encounters in Tangle Lakes are everywhere. One memorable afternoon,
Maureen, who’d already caught five fish from a lovely little run, was
preparing to make another cast. A #10 zug-bug nymph with a small split-shot
on her leader had the fish doing her bidding.
“Maureen, don’t move,” her friend
Jodi said softly from across the river. Fearing the appearance of a bear,
Maureen froze.
“What is it? What is it?” she
whispered back. “Is it a bear?”
“Something much better,” Jodi
replied. “It’s a beautiful red fox right behind you.”
Sure enough, everyone but Maureen
could see the black nose, the bushy, white-tipped tail, and the glossy,
red-orange coat of a large fox that had emerged from the bushes right behind
her. He’d proceeded to plop down on his haunches to watch her as she fished,
and he licked his chops nosily, perhaps in anticipation of a fat grayling
for lunch.
Maureen slowly turned her head so she
could see him. When she quietly said hello, he cocked his head, listening to
her. We all had the feeling that he had conversed with anglers in this spot
before.
Following her declaration that she
didn’t have a fish for him because she was putting them all back, he lazily
rose, lifted a paw to brush the bugs from his snout, and then ambled along
the bank a while before disappearing back into the bushes.
“Wow,” Maureen declared, “and I
thought all we were going to do here was fish!”
She and the others were equally
impressed by the single caribou bull that rose up out of the willows right
next to the road the next morning. His rack was so magnificent, it was hard
to see how his neck supported it. He posed there for a few minutes before
lifting his nose to smell the breeze; then he bounded off toward the distant
mountains. “He must have slept late, and the herd left without him,” someone
said.
This past summer it was a huge, spiny
porcupine that amused us one evening as we sat by the campfire with our
evening tea. He’d come waddling down a tiny trail across the river, hardly
wide enough to accommodate him, and was sniffing his way along the bank. He
stopped to investigate the remains of a small fish that a noisy Arctic tern
had deposited there, and the show was on.
Defending his dinner, the tern
dive-bombed the intruder repeatedly, screaming and flapping wildly. The
porcupine, of course, flared his quills and hunched down over his find.
Finally, the tern decided that it was hopeless and departed to look for
another fish. The porcupine nonchalantly waded to the edge of the water for
a drink and then returned the way he had come.
Besides the noisy terns, our bird
sightings are simply too numerous to describe in much detail. We’ve come to
a screeching halt in the middle of the road as a peregrine falcon flew in
front of us with an unlucky ground squirrel dangling from his talons,
watched breathlessly as a pair of swans lifted off from a tundra pond in
perfect unison, enjoyed the chirps and songs of the yellow Wilson’s warbler
in the willows across the river as we fished, and got a rare up-close look
at a great horned owl perched in a stumpy tree beside the river. I always
have my bird book along on these trips.
Flora
For those who look down as well as
up, the Denali Highway’s wildflowers are another part of any sojourn along
the road, the creeks, or the lakes. Early July, when we make our annual
safari, is the prime time for wildflowers. By then, blossoms of every color
and size lie hidden among the willows or sprout next to the road or along
the creek banks. Some are such wee things they remain virtually invisible
until we’re actually sitting amidst them on the tundra while tying on a fly
or eating our lunch.
Along roadside and hillside, lavender
or butter-yellow posies wave in the breeze. Dwarf fireweed blooms in large
fuscia clumps that would make a perfect bride’s bouquet. Yellow and purple
arnica, monkshood, wild geranium, star flowers, tiny violets, blueberry and
cloudberry blossoms, and many others thrive in this incomparable ecosystem.
A wildflower book is always right next to my bird book when we’re here.
The Rest of the Road
The glaciers, mountain ranges, high
plateau lakes, and meandering creeks and rivers (all filled with grayling)
make the entire highway a feast for both eye and soul for all who venture
here. Cut banks, dotted by the nests of mud swallows, and hills with
constantly shifting shadow patterns decorate the roadway. Only the 30-mile
per hour speed limit prevents people from going off the road while they gawk
at the splendor.
Heading west from the Tangle Lakes
toward Cantwell, one can feel the road climbing to a summit. It isn’t long
before the spectacular MacLaren River valley spreads out below several
strategically placed pullouts along the road. The view from the top extends
across tiered rock and lake formations that descend to the mighty MacLaren
River, then rise again to the distant glaciers, whose retreat carved out
this extraordinary scene. The old highway sign still declares this to be the
highest highway pass in Alaska, but Atigun Pass on the Dalton Highway is
over 700 feet higher. As one descends from the heights, the MacLaren River
Lodge is situated beside the river at Milepost 42. Mount Hayes, Hess
Mountain, and Mount Deborah dominate the skyline.
Crooked Creek and Clearwater Creek
offer grayling fishing as you continue west along the highway. Susitna Lodge
comes into view at Milepost 77.5 and the road crosses the Susitna River
bridge at Milepost 79.3. Two other lodges, Gracious House at Milepost 82 and
Adventures Unlimited at Milepost 100, offer a variety of services. In
between, at Milepost 85, travelers can see the Valdez Creek Mine reclamation
in the foothills of the Clearwater Mountains.
Other spectacular views of Mount
Hayes, Hess, and Deborah occur at Milepost 96 and 97. Nearby, at Milepost
104.6, lies the Brushkana River and campground. Only this campground and the
facilities at Gracious House lodge provide camping opportunities along the
western end of the highway.
Continuing on toward Cantwell,
several high pullouts along the road provide beautiful views of the Upper
Nenana River and the river valley. Access to the river itself occurs at
obvious put-in spots for rafters at Milepost 117.
The section of the road between
Milepost 124 and 130 provides outstanding views of Mount McKinley (Denali)
during clear weather. The BLM brochure on the area reports that since 80% of
its 20,320-foot elevation rises above the surrounding landscape, McKinley’s
base-to-summit rise is greater than that of Mt. Everest.
The mountains on the Cantwell end of
the highway, dominated by the rusty-colored Pyramid Peak, rise quite close
to the road. Tucked in at the base of the mountains lies the small town of
Cantwell. From there, one can return to Anchorage, or continue on to the
entrance to Denali National Park, which lies just over fifty-miles to the
north.
Although it varies in sights and
topography, the entire highway is truly one of Alaska’s special places, with
the Tangle Lakes area its crown jewel.
Conclusion
Once visited, Tangle Lakes enchanting
web of waters somehow manages to twist and coil itself around your heart,
your mind’s eye, and your fly rod. It’s not because the fish are all that
huge, nor because the campgrounds are the best in the state. Rather, the
spell seems to be cast by the shifting cloud-shadows that move across the
land much as the early people must have, the pure waters, the prolific
wildflowers, and the fish that are so completely engaging. The sense of
antiquity that I get from this place is unmatched anywhere else in the Great
Land. I think you’ll also find that once you’ve visited, you must go back.
-Pudge Kleinkauf owns Women’s
Flyfishing®, an instruction and guide service based in Anchorage. She
has lived and fished in Alaska for 34 years. Visit her web site at
www.womensflyfishing.net or e-mail her at pudge@womensflyfishing.net
|
