Hot Kings

We're leaning on the rail of the "Buffalo Boat" watching our wake heave and roll under the reflection of Mount Edgecumbe, listening to Cheston tell us how we have nailed the hottest king salmon week in all of Southeast, and trying to ignore "Bait," a Jack Russell Terrier with attitude and an insatiable urge to chomp live halibut nose.

Cheston Clark, skipper, spins the wheel and parks the 32-foot Lorna Dee on the pulsating face of Sitka's resident volcano. With an 11-foot beam the Lorna Dee is an easy ride in open ocean waves with a back deck that offers an acre or two of unfettered fishing room. Angela calls it the "Buffalo Boat," a Sport Craft on steroids. Angela Filler is the whirlwind who runs Sitka Charters, a regional charter broker with 35 pre-qualified boats available, and who put the details of this trip together long before Jim and I stepped on the tarmac at Japonski Island. We're scheduled to fish two days with Cheston and Bait the terrible terrier.

Cheston sets the downriggers, deckhand Casey rigs the herring. "Casey's at the bait," I chirp. Bait-the-dog cocks his head and stares at me. It's a baseball joke, dog, baseball. Not dog. It's lame. I promise not to do it again. Neither deckhand nor dog appears convinced. Already I'm in the doghouse with the deckhand and the dog and the trip's just starting.

Apparently my fishing buddy Jim Goerg and I are not the only salmon fishermen who have picked up on the insider info that for the next seven days Sitka will very likely produce the hottest king salmon fishing in all of southeast Alaska, and possibly all of the state. The Edgecumbe mirror is etched with boat wakes in every direction, six-pack charters, private kickers, ocean-going sport fishers, 18-foot center consoles.

"It was in the paper," Cheston explains, "Sitka's Daily Sentinel."

Sure enough, I find a story quoting Mike Jaenicke, ADFG Southeast project manager saying, "The week of June 14-20 is the historic peak week for king salmon fishing in Sitka, the best place in the state for sport fishing for kings, at an average of three hours to catch a Chinook."

That's about three times faster than most saltwater salmon holes in Southeast. Simply put-there's a whomping mother lode of nasty silver fish in front of this Baranof Island town in the center of June.

This year, if I want to hit the hottest king fishing in Southeast, Jaenicke tells me to be on the water in Sitka June 15-21. According to the five-year average, weather withstanding, that week should be smoking. "In the middle of June the Chinook fishing in Sitka is three times faster than any other place in Southeast," Jaenicke said, adding, "I'd be careful about saying it's the best in the state, because the only place we have creel samples is in Southeast. But Sitka is the best in Southeast."

But possibly all of Alaska?

"Possibly," he says, "we just don't know."

Any way that it stacks up, Sitka is solid with kings in the center of June.

According to Jaenicke, Sitka's ocean and near-shore waters will produce between 25,000 and 30,000 king salmon for the season from June to September. When I interviewed him for this article, the state was still crunching numbers trying to work up the 2008 forecast. "I'm not sure exactly how many kings we'll catch this year, but it'll be somewhere in that 25,000 to 30,000 neighborhood. We'll have good king fishing all summer," he predicts, "and I have no reason to think that the middle of June won't be the best-again."

By this time tomorrow Jim and I will have a 24- and a 30-pounder on ice, our fishing companions Dr. William (Jake) Doyle of Kettle Falls, Washington and Laura Palmer, from St. Regis, Montana, have a 20- and an 18- (Laura's first-ever) all before lunch, Bait will have munched a bunch of halibut noses, we've had a close-up look at Mount Edgecumbe Sitka's 3,271-foot high volcanic icon that our skipper sweats up just to para-glide down and we still have half of the first day left to fish.

This, I think, is going to be an interesting trip.

Sitka, with less than 9,000 residents, is Alaska's 5th largest city. Two blocks from our room in the Westmark Sitka is where Alaska became U.S. territory-Oct. 18, 1867.

The little city is steeped in Russian, Tlingit, and U.S. political history; boasts 17 miles of road, a fleet of professional fishing charters, and the infamous Pioneer Bar (P-bar for short). And don't ring the brass ship bell unless you've got a pocket full of spare cash to buy a round.

Located on the ocean side of Baranof Island, Sitka is accessible only by boat or plane. We came by plane from Juneau.

Angela's operation is a one-woman whirlwind called Sitka Charters-her idea of one-stop shopping for fishermen.

"You call, pack, and get on the plane. I take care of everything else." Each fish trip is customized, personalized. You want it, she gets it, brokering absolutely everything from fishing licenses to airline reservations, hotels, B&Bs, lodges, meals, charter boats, night life, sack lunches, tours of the critically historic town and throws in a bunch of pleasant side ventures, including shopping sprees for non-angling companions.

Cell phone in her ear, notebook in hand, and a toddler on her lap, she confirms, books, shuffles, brokers, solves, shifts, buys, recommends and takes us to dinner.

After our two days with Cheston and Bait, Angela has arranged for us to be on a 27-foot Seasport with Tim and Octobre Twaddle's Alaskan Reel Affair Charters.

On Day One the Buffalo Boat sticks its nose into Sitka Sound and looks around. At 6 in the morning the Sound is a mill pond. "We'll try Vitskari Rocks," Cheston says. Bait growls. Nobody argues.

Sitka is surrounded by prominent and popular salmon and halibut spots: on the south Necker Islands and Biorka Reef, out front at Vitskari Rocks in Sitka Sound, around Cape Edgecumbe and north up the outside of Kruzof Island to Shelikof Bay, Point Mary, Pt. Amelia, Salisbury Sound, Sealion Island, Eagle Rock, Kakul Narrows and probably a dozen more. (Note: Halibut and rockfish are closed in an area at the south end of Kruzof Island called the Pinnacles off Cape Edgecumbe.)

The indentation of Sitka Sound forms a huge collection bowl that pulls in fish from literally hundreds of separate salmon runs that are migrating along the ocean edge toward southern natal streams.

Vitskari Rocks is the heart of Sitka Sound, ground zero for fresh-arrivals, straight out in front of the city harbor beneath the streaks of snow on the crater of Mount Edgecumbe. It's a swirl of eddies, rips and bait that sucks in migrating runs of kings and coho, holds them, feeds them and sends them on their way to places like British Columbia and Washington. In the fall it's a staging area for swarms of silvers returning to the Northeast Southeast Regional Aquaculture Association hatchery in nearby Silver Bay.

An armada of boats is straining the mill pond with herring and hoochies. Birds are working everywhere. Bite is on. The rocks of Vitskari may well be the most popular salmon spot in Sitka.

Cheston puts out four rods, stacked two to a downrigger, trolling160 and 120 feet. Laura has first rod and 7 minutes into the troll it bucks down. The 18-pounder inhaled a whole herring. It turns out to be the smallest fish of the trip, but will be forever remembered as her first-ever salmon.

Two of the rods are trolling flashers and herring, two straight whole herring with half-hitches of leader snugged around the nose so they pull straight.

Dr. Jake puts a brilliantly bright 20-pounder in the boat.

I have two fish that hit and rip off before I realize the drag on my reel is cinched down. Back it off until line slips under my thumb. A line-burned thumbprint beats breaking off against a tight drag. Shortly, I release two in the 15-pound range. Nothing under 20 is going in the boat.

Cheston is getting antsy. The tide's turning. He wants to run offshore for halibut. Dr. Jake and Laura are cradling coffee, basking in morning sun. Their kings are in the box, but their rods are still out and re-rigged for coho (it's early, but there might be a couple around). The tide is bearing down on halibut slack, herring balls have scattered, birds are leaving and Jim and I have yet to keep a fish.

Bait is prancing.

On queue, Jim's rod folds over, a 24-pounder sweeps around the boat. Before we can clear the other rods, mine bucks, shimmies and dives. It's a double. My king likes to fight on the surface, lots of wallowing splashes and surface scorching runs. I'm guessing the low 20s, but it's a strong low 20. Jim's fish is in the net. "Seen it?" he asks; "low 20s" I answer. "It's bigger fish than you think," he says. He's right, the slab hits the mesh, splatters on the deck and pushes 30 on the scales.

It's 10:15.

"Now can we run for halibut," Cheston says. It's not a question.

The morning's sequence seems to be the Sitka fleet's daily fishing pattern. Fish early and through the tide change for the kings, and spend the slack investing in halibut honey holes. We can come back for another crack at salmon after the halibut slack--if necessary.

We run 45 minutes offshore, set anchor in about 300 feet, drop gobs of chum, and circle hooks choked with salmon bellies, heads, guts, gills and assorted bottom fodder.

We wait for the scent to call in the halibut.

Bait prances.

Lunch comes and goes.

A humpback whale passes wide, and inexplicably fluke slaps the water for more than a mile.

A few quillbacks, some beautiful, 20-plus yelloweyes.

We manage to scratch up three small halibut, the biggest probably 30 pounds. Bait is pleased. When a hallie hits the deck the dog growls, sinks his rapier teeth into their slimy snouts, then struts like a conquering stud.

Cheston is disappointed: "Yesterday we did well here. Got the biggest halibut so far this year."

Today we went for a ride, banged three chickens and ate lunch.

Tomorrow Sitka wakes up under high overcast, with a hot sun backlighting the mountain teeth and glaciers aligned on the spine of Baranof Island.

By 6:05 we're on the boat and by 6:55 we've boxed three kings in the 20- to 25-pound range. The last of our four-fish limit comes in at 7:10.

It was a scrambling whoop and duck 65 minutes of fishing that Dr. Jake and I led off with a double from 150 feet-mine a surface burner bent on lapping the boat. Dr. Jake's fish is a diver that takes a tight turn around another fishing line, then for good measure does two laps around the downrigger cable. My king rips around the transom and heads straight for Dr. Jake's amazing mess. I pull hard and the fish instinctively turns away from the pressure and runs--on the surface in the right direction.

Cheston is head and shoulders over the rail, fingers flying toward the impossible-to free the tangle of two lines and one-cable in a mess somewhere below the droop of limp line now draping from Dr. Jake's rod tip. Cheston lunges onto his feet, Bait barks, and Dr. Jake's rod tip slams down. The salmon is still on!

Nets fly.

Jim adds his beautiful king, Laura puts her 20 in the boat, and we hold 'em up for a classic Sitka meat photo: bright kings, big smiles, and a background full of volcano.

Both Jim and I arrived in Sitka expecting to connect with halibut in the 50 to 100 pound range. We didn't. Most of our halibut were small, even by chicken standards. Big halibut had been around, everybody said so, just not where we were-when we were there. Best halibut fishing, according to Cheston, starts in July and runs through August.

ADFG's Jaenicke agrees, and points out that Sitka is one of the best places in Alaska for quick halibut limits. "According to our data, it takes an a average of two hours to catch a halibut in Sitka, compared to 5 hours in Juneau in July-August and Ketchikan's 5 hours in mid-June-August. That rate ranks Sitka with Petersburg, Elfin Cove and Craig where the catch rate is also 2 to 3 hours.

"Because Sitka is on the outer coast halibut anglers can go out to meet the halibut that are coming in and follow them in from 600 feet of water to 100 feet inshore.

Some people were luckier than us in mid-June. We ate dinner one evening at Sitka Point Lodge with Mike Boles, his gracious wife, and three anglers from San Diego who were more than a little proud of their 115-pounder. Sitka Point Lodge is a little north of town, on a hill overlooking a calendar waterfront scene. It offers five double occupancy rooms, walk-in freezer, vacuum packing, hot tub and midnight sunsets, a charter boat operation, and a Chef to drool for.

With four limits of kings and halibut on board the Buffalo Boat, and most of the second day still ahead of us, we talked Cheston and Bait into bottomfishing. It didn't take a lot of convincing. Dr. Jake and Laura jumped at the chance. "Nobody ever lets us fish for bottomfish. This'll be great," Doc Jake said.

And it was. We ran north to Salisbury Sound, photographed the lions at Sea Lion Island, the eagle on Eagle Rock and jigged glow tail sickle shaped plastic worms on pinnacles 120 feet deep until we couldn't quit smiling. The first five rockfish are all different species. The deck fills with red and black striped tiger rockfish, yelloweye, black, China, boccacio, and widow.

These waters seem to swarm with fish. A sea otter checks us out.

On the way in we see an eagle flapping in the waters of Neva Strait, beating slowly toward shore. It hauls out on a kelp-slimed boulder. A salmon a few pounds bigger than the eagle's wing lift, is impaled in its talons.

For our final fish day, Angela has us booked with Alaskan Reel Affair Charters, which runs four 4-man boats and operates a fish packing and shipping service for sport anglers. We're fishing on a 27-foot Sea Sport with skipper Mike Boetteher. Our fishing partners for the day our Chuck Leazer and Thomas Ruhaak, Loveland, CO.

Tom is first up and his rod goes off on a 5-pound silver. Nice fish in Loveland, but a nasty break in the rod rotation of a king factory like Sitka in June.

His buddy Chuck nails a 20-pound white king at 90 feet.

I catch a twin to Tom's small silver. Mike guesses that there's a wad of feeders from the Silver Bay coho hatchery moving by. Tom hits a king, a second later my rod goes off and I've got a twin to Tom's. He's wedged into the starboard corner, and I'm on the port side. His fish stays on the surface, throwing up water welts as it torpedoes away.

Mine is a diver, a deep-down slugger. It sounds for 15 full seconds before stopping. Must have hit bottom.

Later, Jim finishes off our king salmon limits with another 25-pounder, and we head for a fog bank 16 miles out where a GPS mark says there are halibut 452 feet down.

We drop 2 pounds of weight, hooks slathered in salmon gills, guts and belly strips and catch limits of yelloweye rockfish (2 each), six small halibut, and enough quillbacks to cuss at.

The fog starts to lift, whitecaps are rocking our anchored boat pretty good.

Humpback whales pass in the distance, dolphins swarm the boat. A shearwater lands in a trough off the transom and looks us over.

For the day we have 4 kings in the 25-pound range, 2 silvers, 8 yelloweyes and 6 halibut. The tide is running hard, boat is getting bashed, the bite is dead and we head for home

Sitka is glowing in afternoon ocean light; onion domes, white clapboard houses, trollers, net boats, charters, sternwheeler, old town, new tourists, cruise ships, a barge, hacksaw mountains with glacier ice in their teeth and a westerly sun on their flanks.

So this is the hottest king fishing in Alaska this week.

Good enough!

"P" Bar time!

Terry Sheely is a contributing editor for Fish Alaska magazine, where his work is regularly featured.