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I light up a cigar, and not your run-of-the-mill,
dollar-store stogie, but rather a high-end, dark-wrapped import that
lasts an hour and promises both bad breath and a light head. It’s the
white socks. Minutes before, I felt like Pig Pen from Peanuts, a cloud
of the pesky, horrifically annoying creatures doing constant laps around
my head. One toke on the cigar, though, and they’re gone.
The many brands of bug spray on the market may help
keep the mosquitoes at bay, and while this is critical in southwest
Alaska, white socks unfortunately remain impervious to our most potent
potions. Bug shirts, head nets, smoke, wind, and water: These offer the
best relief from the swarm.
At the moment, however, it’s hard to concern
ourselves with what flies above the water, as what swims below it is
immensely more tempting. I make a quartering cast downriver and at the
end of the drift, a two-foot rainbow smashes the swinging leech,
immediately launching itself three feet into the air.
Bugs? What bugs?
Fish Alaska editor Troy Letherman and I are guests at
the Alaska Sportsman’s Lodge on the Kvichak River. The Kvichak,
world-renown for the size and numbers of wild rainbow trout it produces,
flows from massive Lake Iliamna to Bristol Bay, providing a conduit for
what is historically the world’s largest run of sockeye salmon.
It’s an angler’s river, too, with a uniform gravel
bottom that’s easy to wade, very few snags, and an even-tempered flow.
It runs gin clear in the upper stretches, making sight-fishing possible,
and is full of the strong, energetic Kvichak fish of legend, trout
reared on the surplus of nutrition found in ocean-like Iliamna.
Silver, red, pink and chum salmon are the river’s
anadromous species, while rainbow trout and Arctic grayling are
residents. The river is most well known for its sockeye run, with trout
fishing not far behind. Historically, sockeye runs begin in late June
and run through late July.
June 8th hails the opening of spring trout fishing in
2005 on the Kvichak, when the trout are long and lean and in search of a
good meal, out-migrating sockeye smolt being the main course. During
most years, spring trout fishing on the Kvichak is good until the end of
June, when a lull ensues as the rainbows—ready to begin the egg
feast—follow the sockeye to their spawning grounds.
Once the dying sockeye begin to wash down the Kvichak,
the rainbows return to the river to feed on free-drifting eggs and
flesh. By this time of year, they’ve given up the serpentine figures of
the early season and more resemble a football than a fish. Mid-August
through October is usually very productive, with peak of fall trout
fishing usually falling in mid-September. In an effort to preserve this
incredible fishery, rainbow trout fishing on the Kvichak is catch and
release.
In the spring, with the river’s trout eager for
high-calorie meals, bigger fly patterns are the way to go—smolt, sculpin,
and leeches all can work well. Other anglers at the lodge were also
having great success pulling small plugs through the longest, deepest
runs. Throwing a variety of spinners would surely prove effective as
well (during a very brief trail period, I had one strike on a #3 Mepps
Aglia streamer).
The lodge itself sits at the head of the Kaskanak
Flats, where the river braids into some of its most impressive trout
country. At orientation upon our arrival, we learn of the current
fishing programs in effect, including the daily fly-outs to Kukaklek
Lake, to the Brooks and Nushagak rivers, as well as fishing on the
Kvichak from the lake to the braids. Troy and I decide to mainly work
the Kvichak.
The next morning we join Scott Williamsen, a six-year
veteran of the lodge who spends the remainder of the year guiding for
steelhead on Idaho’s Clearwater River, fishing the waters near his home
in Missoula, Montana, and pointing out bonefish for anglers in the South
Pacific. He works hard all day to get us into good fish and after a
tough morning, the work pays off with several nice trout, the best
approaching two feet.
Moving frequently, we fish out of the boat and then
wade in about equal doses. Fly patterns included Articulated Leeches in
several colors, sculpins in several designs, and Scott Sanchez’s Double
Bunny. Best results come with the black Articulated Leech. Our rods are
9H- to 10-foot 8-weights, which are necessary, both to handle 275-grain
sinking lines and the Kvichak’s gargantuan fish.
Leaders are short, roughly four feet long, and
tapered to 0X tippet. It is hard work casting this setup all day, but
compared to the amount of lead that would be needed to bounce bottom
(and the type of “chuck and duck” casting that would entail), this is
far superior. In the end, our first impression of the Kvichak is quite
favorable. The big water is daunting at first, but as you learn the
runs, seams, and holes, and how best to fish them, it becomes very
fishable for both fly and gear anglers.
The next day we spend with Andy Bullick, a guide at
the lodge and a recent contributor to Fish Alaska magazine (his guest
editorial on the proposed Pebble Mine and feature on western Alaska chum
salmon can be found in the January and July 2005 issues respectively).
When he isn’t guiding at the Alaska Sportsman’s Lodge, Andy is a high
school teacher in Juneau.
Fishing with Andy is fun—he is a good guide who gives
sound advice and positive feedback. We begin at the lake and work back
down to the braids. I land about 20 fish in a full day of fishing, which
actually stretches into the night, as Andy and I work various spots
around the braids after dinner, ending at 10 p.m. This is the guides’
curfew as set by Brian Kraft, managing partner of the lodge, who needs
to make sure fishing fools like myself don’t keep them on the water all
night.
On day three, we are in for a special treat with a
flight to Kukaklek Lake to fish the outlet of the Big Ku, or Kukaklek
River, which eventually teams with the nearby Nonvianuk River to form
the Alagnak. Expert fly-fishing guide Todd Calitri joins myself, Troy,
Brian, and Derek Donald for a half day of angling for rainbows. Derek is
a longtime friend of Brian’s, and like Brian, was a past professional
hockey player with the Anchorage Aces. Derek is also a cut-up and his
non-stop commentary keeps everyone entertained.
The fishing is good, with long casts and upstream
mends ending in jarring strikes. We wade into the lake as far as each of
us feels comfortable and try to get the sinking line and big fly into
the trough that forms at the mouth of the lake and continues into the
river. Many fish in the 16- to 24-inch range are landed and the one
thing that they have in common is their tremendous girth. There is
constant activity on the surface and the fish show clear evidence of
gluttonous feeding on smolt. Conehead Buggers, Articulated Leeches, and
Conehead Western Bunnies all produce.
In the afternoon, Troy and I fish with Todd on the
upper Kvichak. Todd puts me into the first hole and gives me a set of
precise instructions on how much line to cast and at what angle
downstream. His advice is so accurate that when I make my first cast, I
am rewarded with a 20-inch trout. The highlight of the afternoon is a
27-inch chrome hen that Todd lands at the top of a productive run. He
really enjoys the opportunity to get out and fish and poses with the
trout like a pro who has caught plenty of fish.
At the end of the next morning, again fishing with
Scott, we find ourselves back at “One-a-Day,” a favored run within sight
of the lodge, and sadly it grounds us with the knowledge that our flight
leaves Igiugig in two hours. Luckily we won’t need the usual 120 minute
arrival at the airport prior to takeoff; rather, 15 minutes will do the
trick.
Troy works the bottom of the run and methodically
lands sleek, powerful rainbows in succession. Scott casts long coils of
line with his 14-foot two-hander and covers large portions of water
while catching several fish in the middle of the run. I take the
opportunity to walk to the top of the stretch of clear Kvichak water.
Settling in at just past knee deep, I quarter the sink-tip downriver.
Forty feet of line swings cross-current and at the end of the cast the
white Articulated Leech is struck hard by a strong trout.
It’s clearly a nice fish, vaulting several times into
the air, and finally tapes at 24 inches long. It is exceedingly fat for
this time of year and chock full of smolt.
Returning to the top of the run, I make a cast that
eventually will remind me of the reasons I chase trout all around this
state.
The fly has only begun to swing when a vicious strike
rips the fly downward and straight towards the center of the river.
There’s barely time for my reel’s drag to do its job, the 0X tippet no
match for this big trout.
I stand there numbly for a few moments, gathering my
thoughts and examining the remains of my leader. Slowly a smile crosses
my features as I think about what this trout will look like when I pay
him a visit in the fall.
Marcus Weiner is a publisher of Fish Alaska
magazine.
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