Fall in Alaska generates mixed emotions for me. By mid September the leaves on the birch trees have begun to turn a vibrant yellow-gold. The berry bushes have changed to various shades of crimson and the quaking aspens dance and shimmer in the wind. The spruce trees remain “ever-green” and add some dark contrast to the kaleidoscope of bright colors seen across the landscape. Fall storms bring cooler temperatures and thus “termination dust” to the tops of the mountains. The suns’ rays find holes in the clouds, reflecting off the powdered-sugar peaks with astonishing brilliance.
While fall is spectacular, but winter’s icy breath is in the air and another amazing Alaskan summer has come to an end. Fortunately, every cloud has a silver lining.
For many Alaskans, fall means the beginning of the hunting season: from moose to goose. For me, fall also means the beginning of some the best trout fishing of the year. Many of the salmon have already spawned and died. Some silvers will continue to enter the rivers for a while but it is past their peak. The loose salmon eggs and decaying flesh are drifting downstream providing the rainbows with a moving smorgasbord like some demented aquatic sushi train. The big bows move out of the lakes to greedily dine on the all-you-can-eat buffet, growing bigger and fatter with each passing day. Fall fishing in Alaska equates to hefty, hard fighting trout and lots of them.
I had planned to float Lake Creek this fall in search of my favorite quarry. But as fate would have it, I was given the opportunity to join some friends to fish the fabled Naknek River instead. I would be tagging along with fellow fly fishermen, Jade Beam and John Hamilton.
The Naknek, the Kvichak (kwee-jack), and the Kenai rivers are arguably the best trophy trout streams in the state. Monster rainbows over 30 inches long are caught with some regularity in these waters. I fish the Kenai regularly and had fished the Kvichak last fall, so I jumped at the chance to fish the Naknek.
We took the hour-long flight from Anchorage to King Salmon. This small town is located along the banks of the Naknek River. Unfortunately, our contact in town told us the river had been fishing poorly. He did, however, have an alternate plan; he would fly us out that evening to another river in the area that had been fishing well. In the meantime, we could barrow his boat and fish the “Nak” until it was time to go.
Once we had finished our preparation for our fly-out trip, we headed out to fish the Naknek for a couple of hours. The Naknek is a wide, clear river, 35 miles long and best accessed with a boat. The headwater for the river is massive Naknek Lake. From here it winds it way down to its terminus in Bristol Bay. The rive boasts very large runs of both Chinook and Sockeye salmon throughout the summer months. During the low water periods of very early spring and late fall, some sections of the river become safe to wade.
We ran the jet boat up river, passing a beachcombing grizzly along the way. The shoreline was littered with dead salmon carcasses and smelled like something only a bear would love. We found a likely section of water and pulled the boat onto the tall-grass shore.
The four of us spread out to have enough room to make long casts.I knew my arms were in for a workout on this windy day. After all, we were tossing 5-inch weighted leach patterns on sink-tip lines. Upon seeing the overwhelming amount of water to try to cover, I was wishing I had brought a spey rod.
I waded out as far as I dared, throwing out as much line as I could handle. I cast methodically, mending my line, seeking out the most likely looking lies.
In the middle of my tenth drift, I felt the distinctive tap of a fish taking my fly. Setting the hook, line suddenly peeled off my reel and I had to brace my footing in the heavy current. Fifty yards downstream a chrome behemoth leapt clear of the water, defiantly shaking his head, snapping my line, and then he was gone. He took my fly and a little bit of my pride too.
I rigged up again and this time I thoroughly checked my knots and leader for any flaws. I was determined not to lose another fish of that size to carelessness.
Once again I was rewarded, this time at the end of my swing. The fish smashed my fly like a run-away freight train. He put me into my backing in short order with no sign of stopping. This rainbow had huge shoulders and seemed to really know what he was doing. He tail-walked across the water and then made another head shaking run. Suddenly, he turned and started coming straight at me. I stumbled backward, rod raised high, trying to bring in line as fast as I could. He crashed and splashed and dashed downstream again. This fish was big and bright like a steelhead fresh from the ocean. I followed him downstream, keeping the pressure on, but trying not to break the 8-pound fluorocarbon tippet. Finally, he began to tire and I was able to work him in toward shore. Once I had coaxed him into a backwater eddy, I was able to guide him into the rubber landing net. A couple of pictures, a quick release, and he was well on his way back to the buffet line. I thought, “If this was ‘slow’ fishing, then I can’t imagine what its like when it’s hot!”
In a couple hours, we caught several fish over 20 inches and Jade and I each caught fish in the 28-inch range. I had to force myself to get in the boat and head back for our fly-out trip. However, the chance to fish new water is always filled with optimism and great expectations.
We would leave the busy Naknek “highway” and take a detour down the river less traveled. But sometimes, that makes all the difference.We flew out to our camp with the sun low on the horizon. Upon reaching our destination, we flew low along the river to scout it out in the waning light. To our amazement, we counted at least 30 grizzly bears along the shoreline. With that many bears around, I knew it was going to be a little harder than normal to get a good nights sleep. Luckily, we were able to keep the bears at bay with our secret weapons: a large campfire and abnormally loud snoring.
The next morning we hiked to the mouth of the river under crisp clear skies. Fortunately, the steady wind was strong enough to keep the no-see-ums off us. We spotted a grizzly following us along the beach. He caught up to us at the mouth and then disappeared instantly when he entered the thick brush lining the shore. Our heads were now on a swivel as we started to fish. It was like a human version of Meerkat Manor, only we had nowhere to hide. At one time, we had as many as 15 grizzly bears, including cubs, within our field of view. We did our best to keep our distance, but at times it was impossible to do so. Several bears swam and fished their way right by us. Other bears would suddenly emerge from the brush near us. We began to assimilate to our close proximity with our new fishing partners. However, we always kept one eye on them, as much space as possible, and a healthy respect for their size and power. Thankfully, these bruins were more interested in fishing for salmon, than in bothering us.
The river was flowing crystal clear; its deep pools and slots were followed by long shallow riffles. The variation in water depth allowed us to use different techniques to entice the hungry trout. We used weighted leach patterns in the deep water and drifted beads through the riffles. It turned out to be a winning combination. We caught fish after fish after fish, all along the same half-mile stretch of river. We could have tried to cover more water, but it wasn’t necessary and the extensive bear population made a formidable barrier. Despite the short section, we still had doubles and even triples at times. To top it all off, these large rainbows turned out to be the uniquely spotted “leopard” bows. Their dark green backs and all-over speckling helped camouflage them well against the rocky bottom. Radiant ruby-red stripes adorned their flanks, while crimson gill plates blushed their cheeks. These magnificent fish are a truly stunning variation of rainbow trout. The only thing harder than getting there, was the thought of leaving there.
It had been yet another epic day of fall trout fishing in Alaska. The brilliant colors, the massive grizzlies, the variety of trout, and the great company, made this an unforgettable trip. The Naknek was fantastic and a worthy destination in its own right, but I’m very glad to have taken the chance on the river less traveled.
