Just as we were preparing to ship this issue to the printer, word came that legendary Kenai River guide and fly angler Curt Trout had passed away. We felt the loss immediately, and I struggled to concentrate on completing a magazine issue that was wholly dedicated to the one piece of water many of us find inseparable from memories of Curt.

Back when Fish Alaska was little more than a good idea and a lot of future work, he was there, offering his articles, his well-considered angling advice, and more than one invitation to join him on the river for a day of chasing trout. He was among the first contributing editors to the magazine, and was always insistent in his desire to help, even when helping us might not have been much of a boon to his business. For example, while working on a story a few years back, I bumped into Curt on an upper Kenai gravel bar. With his characteristic grin, he walked over to say hello and check on our day. I happened to be fishing with a guide from a rival outfit, which would be featured in the magazine article to come, but Curt didn’t seem to care. Once he found that success for us had been minimal, he quietly reached into his vest and produced a group of the day’s hottest beads. “I just caught a seven-pounder with this a few minutes ago,” he winked. My story turned out great.

Actually, thanks to Curt, a lot of Alaska angling stories have turned out great, even if the anglers themselves don’t know why.

It all started with a visit he made to the state over twenty years ago. As he wrote in an article that appeared in our September 2002 issue, the place had him hooked in an instant. “It was a bright, sunny day in June 1983 that I first saw the upper Kenai River,” he wrote, “and I have to tell you, it took my breath away.”

He landed a 31-inch rainbow later the same day, and never found a reason good enough to make a return to the Lower 48 seem worthwhile. “The upper Kenai is one of those places you only luck into once in a lifetime,” he continued. “Just mention Cooper Landing or the upper Kenai to someone; if they’ve been there, you will see a smile appear on their face.”

For all of us lucky enough to have met Curt, we know his smile never went away.

After that initial trip to the Kenai, Curt and his wife, Jody, bought land in Wasilla and made the move permanent; while he worked as a journeyman electrician during the week, he spent his weekends and whatever free time he could scrape together building on a romance with the Kenai that would last for the rest of his days.

Then, just ten years after the move to Alaska, he came down with a sudden flurry of flu-like symptoms, and everything changed. Following some suddenly serious kidney problems and the subsequent chemotherapy treatments, Curt was left with a mysterious muscle disorder. He consulted with specialists across the country, including doctors at both the Virginia Mason and Mayo clinics, only to have them discover nothing about his condition except what it wasn’t. However, during his convalescence, Curt was at work on his dream career. With a business partner, he founded the Cooper Landing guide service known as Alaska Troutfitters.

While already an accomplished fly angler, Curt’s transition to the guiding world gave him a greater chance to hone his skills. As the symptoms of his muscular condition grew more debilitating, he developed an entirely unique method of casting the fly, and then a nymphing system that allowed him to be successful with the downstream loop he was left with at the end of his casts. As an eager and extremely able teacher, he brought the things he’d learned to the rest of us.

The innovation continued to the fly knotted onto the end of the tippet. As Curt explained, “When I first started using egg imitations on the Kenai, any old Glo-Bug would do. When the trout got wise to those, we started mixing colors of yarn and later, using beads to continue to fool the larger fish. Then one day while I was out with clients, I noticed a friend of mine just hammering the fish—and bigger ones than we were catching. When I asked him what he was using, he showed me a bead he had painted creamy white with fingernail polish. That day started my quest for ‘The Bead,’ a seemingly unending task that still takes hours and hours of fun research every year.” This research took place every evening back at the Troutfitters headquarters, where Curt and his guides would get together in his “laboratory” to “conspire against the rainbows.”

Make no mistake, the process of adaptation and innovation that began there with Curt Trout changed much of how we fish for fall rainbows in Alaska. And anyone that spends much time on the upper Kenai, whether a competing guide or private angler, will tell you that the folks at Alaska Troutfitters have their beads dialed-in.

By the way, the friend who gave Curt the bead that had been splashed with fingernail polish was a young fly angler named Billy Coulliette. He eventually became a guide at Troutfitters and now he and Dusty Byrd, another Curt Trout protégé, run the place. But while touching it up with polish was a new touch, Billy had received his first bead from Curt Trout.

As the story goes, Billy and another current Troutfitters guide, Josh Hayes, were following Curt around the river, staying back and watching him fish, just a pair of teenagers trying to pick up some tricks from the master. However, Curt saw them skulking behind him in the woods, called them over, and after discovering their intent, handed off a few beads to try out.

While Billy, Dusty, and Josh all ended up working for Curt, he was always just as quick to dispense helpful hints, tips, and even beads and flies to complete strangers. In fact, diverting from the close-lipped secrecy of many successful fly anglers, he loved to do it.

“How can you not want to share the feeling you get when you’re fishing the upper Kenai?” Curt wrote in that same September 2002 article. “I’ve been fishing the river for almost twenty years, and I’ve seen the number of anglers steadily increase, but rather than get upset, I’m happy to share the river with others. I can’t count the number of times I’ve given advice or flies and beads to a struggling fisherman or guide so they too could enjoy the Kenai experience.”

Today especially, with the number of boats floating Curt’s beloved upper river at an all-time high, it’s a unique sentiment. But he never wavered in his belief in helping others enjoy the trout and the river that kept him in Alaska. “The upper Kenai is one of those special places that make you feel good just to be there, and the awesome wild beauty of the valley makes an impression no matter how many times you see it,” he continued. “I wish everyone could experience the feeling I get when I float down the river and take the time to just look around.”

On October 22, at the age of 54, Curt set out to float the upper Kenai one more time. He and a pair of friends drifted through the Canyon section, fishing throughout the day, catching many fine Kenai trout. Then, as the afternoon drew down, they each locked into another fish, with Curt eventually landing one of those special Kenai rainbows he liked to talk about.

After fighting the fish, Curt laid down in the drift boat like he’d done many times before and settled in for a nap as they headed for the takeout. He passed away moments later, fresh from handling and releasing a last great upper-Kenai trout, while still on the river he loved so much.