Fly-fishing in Alaska - Part 2

Something from the tackle box:

 Do everything better than anyone else.  You have stronger faith.  You speak better and know more.  You are eager to give, and you love us better.  Now you must give more generously than anyone else.  I am not ordering you to do this.  I am simply testing how real your love is by comparing it with the concern that others have shown.  You know that our Lord Jesus Christ was kind enough to give up all his riches and become poor, so that you could become rich.   (2Corinthians 8:7-9 CEV)

dolly varden trout

       Getting the chance to go fly-fishing in Alaska was a dream come true for this pretty much ‘home state of Michigan’ fisherman.  Here’s how it worked.  My wife won a cruise to Alaska in a charity raffle.  Isn’t that cool!  And she took me with her!  Even cooler.  On these cruises, if you want to, you can sign up for side excursions at each of the several ports of call, and my sweetheart allowed me to sign up for an afternoon fly-fishing trip out of Juneau, complete with guide, top-notch gear, bush pilot, and a flight in one of those little pontoon equipped airplanes that are a trademark of northern wilderness life and adventure. 

my sweetie on the cruise

       When we reached Juneau I was to take my excursion voucher and meet the representative of Bear Creek Outfitters on the dock next to our ship at 12:30, and from there be transported to their facility at the Juneau airport where we would gear-up and fly out.  It was on the dock waiting for our driver that I met Craig, a very nice young family man from Atlanta, who was the only other passenger on our cruise ship who had signed up for the fly-fishing out of Juneau experience. 

       As we waited for our transportation, which was over a half-hour late in arriving, our conversation naturally turned to our love of fishing and what had brought us to this particular point in our lives of fishing adventure.  I related the whole long story about by wife being blessed in winning a benefit raffle for our local public library, and how she had graciously allowed me to get in an afternoon of fly-fishing on her trip.  She understands how much I love fly-fishing, how it’s been a passion in my life for some years now, and how I will probably never get this opportunity again.  I told Craig how much I really wanted to catch a cutthroat trout, a species that we don’t have in Michigan and, although I know there are no guarantees in fishing, how disappointed I would be if I didn’t land at least one nice fish to take a picture of and tell a story about when I got back home.

     When Craig started to relate his story I soon perceived that this young man was afflicted with more than a touch of anxiety over this whole fly-fishing adventure situation we were in.  “I don’t know, I fish for bass mostly.  Spinning rod stuff from a boat.  Down south we fish for bass.  Why do you think they’re late picking us up?  I’ve only even touched a fly rod once or twice in my life.  My wife and family are on another excursion right now.  I love to fish.  I’ve got a nice boat at home.  I sure wish our transport would show up.  Do you think we should ask at the kiosk why they’re late picking us up?  They said beginners could go on this excursion.  Is there a number we should call for our transport?  I hope they get here soon.  I hope our guide is good.  I really love to fish and wanted to fish while we’re in Alaska.  Not sure about fly-fishing though.  This was the best fishing excursion for me to do time-wise with the family.  They ought to be here for us by now.  I would have preferred trolling for Halibut, but that didn’t work out for our schedule.  I’m going to the kiosk and have them call the outfitter.  Do you think it’s just us two going?  I’m kind of hoping it’s gonna’ be a small group.  Maybe it’s just you and me.  Is your wife doing something else while you fish?  My family is off on a glacier tour right now.  I’ve never really done any fly-fishing before.  I’m going to need some instruction.  I hope they have waders that fit me, - and don’t leak.  I fish from a boat mostly.  Never really done any wader fishing.  I hope they get here soon……..”

       Craig’s chain of bouncing thoughts didn’t bother me though.  I understood the anxiousness.  I was getting a bit worked up inside myself.  I really, really wanted to catch a nice fish in Alaska.  I wanted it a lot!  And this was going to be my only shot.  I listened and smiled, and did my best to reassure Craig that, come what may, this was going to be a wonderful experience that we would both treasure for our whole lives, our being a beginner or experienced with a fly rod notwithstanding.

       Eventually our transportation did arrive.  The driver collected our vouchers, sold us our one day Alaskan fishing license, and whisked us off to the airport to meet the other participants, do an orientation program, gear up, and fly out.

       The ride was 15 minutes or so, and to keep things light I talked with Craig about my experiences with fly-fishing over the years, especially about the early days in that first year or two after learning to work the old buggy whip.  I reassured him that it would be fine, that you don’t have to learn how to be an expert in one day, that I was certainly no expert after many years of frequent fly-fishing, that I had been able to fish, and catch fish, on the very first day that I ever picked up a fly rod, despite my inexperience.   Mostly I tried to covey that I was happy to have his company on this adventure and that we both stood a great chance to catch some fish regardless of our respective experience levels with a fly rod.  It’s just fishing after all, not rocket science.   

       He briefly smiled at my good intentioned words, but mostly just looked out the window at the scenery and fidgeted as we drove along.  “This is going to be fun,” I said, as we pulled into the lot of the outfitter’s home base.  “I’m hoping so,” was the subdued response.

       Inside we joined a larger group of people.  We’d be gearing up and dividing into three groups headed to three different fishing sites.  Craig and I would be in the smallest group.  We two, and an older fellow named Kyle from the wine country of California, would be headed out with our guide Joe and bush pilot Ed to a small tidal bay where a small stream empties into the inner passage waters.  We would be fishing for the Dolly Varden trout that liked to congregate and feed around the mouth of that stream this time of the year. 

       “Sorry to say, you’re not likely to catch any big salmon there today, boys.  You came to fish about 3 weeks too early for that, I think,” said our pilot as we headed over to the water runway from which we’d take off in our floatplane. 

windshield view of the water runway at juneau airport

       The takeoff, flight and landing on our bay in that little plane, was everything I had hoped it would be and more.  I got to sit up front next to the pilot and the views were grand.  Any wilderness is beautiful when seen from above, but Alaskan wilderness is extraordinarily beautiful, I must say.  Ed even went low to show us a pod of whales he had spotted in the inner passage waters.  You couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face with sandpaper.  Craig said little, and smiled even less.  “Enjoy!  We might never get to see this again,” I said. 

       After landing and unloading us, Ed waved goodbye with a promise to be back and pick us up for the return flight to Juneau around 6:30.  And with that, we were fly-fishing in Alaska. 

"be back to get you at six-thirty!"

       Kyle knew his way around a fly-rod nearly as well as I did, so Joe took Craig aside and gave him a few minutes of basic instruction.  Nothing fancy at all.  Just enough knowledge to get about 30 feet of lure, leader and line out in front of himself with little or no damage to life, limb and gear, and then haul it back in a way that would entice the Dollies to chance a snack on his streamer.  It wasn’t pretty, his lure was slapping the water behind him just about as often as it was landing in the water in front of him, but Craig was fly-fishing for trout in Alaska, - as were we all! 

       I had worked my way about 50 yards along the shore from the others, just to give everyone room, but also to spare Craig the obvious comparison between his short casts and my significantly longer casts into the bay.  Joe joined me there to add another 4 or 5 feet of tippet to my leader.  “Best to start with all of them pretty short, just in case everyone is a beginner,” he said as he finished attaching a new streamer to the end of my line.  “I’m not seeing nearly as much activity in the water as I had hoped for.  I sure hope we’re not in for a slow afternoon,” he added.

our fishing waters

       Me to.  I really, really, really want to catch a fish on a fly rod in Alaska.  Doesn’t even have to be a really big one.  Just a nice trout to take a picture of and remember this adventure in Alaska by for the rest of my life!  After an hour or so of no strikes for any of us, and precious little sign of any fish at all, I began to think that maybe fishing, but not FISH to talk about, would be our common fate. 

       I moved in closer to Craig to chat a bit.  He seemed to be showing his frustration a bit more as the time wore on.  You could see it on his face.  He was working that rod awfully hard, as if slapping the water more frequently and with more force would attract the missing fish. 

       “Relax, you’re doing fine, - or just as good as anyone else is,” I said with a chuckle, “Maybe ease up a little on your motion.  We’ve got more than a couple of hours of fishing yet to go, and you’re looking like you’ve already thrown a hundred pitches in this game.  If the fish come in we’ll get some.  If not, we’ll enjoy this fantastic scenery and fly home with smiles all around.” 

       “Yeah,” he replied, as a more genuine smile than I’d been seeing seemed to cross his face, “I’m beginning to see that now.” 

       At that, a “Whoooop!” was heard from just down shore.  We turned to see Kyle waist deep in the bay with his rod tipped over in a nice gentle arch.  Nothing giant we could tell, but a fish nonetheless, and a decent one too. 

a pretty nice trout

       We kept a polite distance as Joe went over and guided Kyle back to the shore and talked him into landing a nice Dolly Varden trout, well over a foot long.  After smiles, pictures, and watching Kyle releasing the catch back into the water, we all had fish fever.  We spread back out and went to work again. 

        But, an hour or so later, with no more action than we’d had in the time before Kyle’s lone-ranger trout, I could see that the frustration was starting to set back in with Craig, and that his arm was getting awfully tired to boot.  His upper arm was braced against his side as if it was glued there, and he was making short casts from his waist using only his forearm, splashing in the water fore and aft with every stroke, a grimace on his face. 

        As I turned back to take in the stunning view and mind my own casts into the late afternoon waters, I thought, ‘Another hour or so to go before the plane comes to pick us up.  Maybe Craig will appreciate a beer together once we’re back on the liner.  I’ll ask him on the way there.  He might have to drink it left-handed though.’

       “Oh, YEAH!” I heard.  I knew what that meant!  I reeled my line in and turned to watch the action. 

       There was Craig, backing onto shore, line tight from tip to water and rod bowed over every bit as far as you ever want to see your rod bowed over.  Once he had that fish on, Craig’s fishing instincts, and experience catching big southern bass with ultra-light tackle, took over.  He knew just what to do.  He backed himself onto the shore and played the fish like an expert.  A huge smile was on his face the whole time.  I managed to get my camera out and videoed the last half minute of the battle. 

       With the fish twisting exhausted in the shallows near the beach, Joe showed Craig how to pick it up and pose for the pictures to be taken before reviving the fish and turning it back into the waters.  Then Joe said, “One of these shots will go up on our web-site Craig.  You’ve just caught the first Silver Salmon of the season with Bear Creek Outfitters.  And it’s a dandy too!” 

       It was a very nice fish, well over 2 feet long, and Craig was beaming.  All the anxiety washed away with one great catch and the pictures to prove it. 

       That left only me.  “Another half hour or so to fish before the plane comes to take us back to Juneau,”  Joe explained.

       Kyle and Craig got back in the water, stripped a little line out and started to fish again with huge smiles on their faces.  Their attitude seemed downright nonchalant to me, at least compared to earlier.  But mine wasn’t, I still wanted to catch a fish.  I mean, I really, really, really wanted to catch a fish on my one and only chance to ever go fly-fishing in Alaska.

       “About ten more minutes,” Joe called out. 

       And then I felt it.  I set the hook and felt it pull solidly away from me on a run.  “Fish on!” I said in a loud voice.  The others turned to watch.

      I could tell it wasn’t huge, but that it was a decent fish.  It ran directly away from me for a short stretch.  I kept the line fairly tight but still allowed some to play out from the reel as the fish moved away.  I had a smile on my face.  This was fun! 

       Then it did something that you would think it would take more brains than a fish has to think of doing.  It turned and ran directly towards me.  As I worked like mad to haul in my line and keep some tension on the situation, that fish leaped from the water and shook like a wet dog while I had nothing to offer in resistance but slack line.  In a flash, I watched my green and red streamer fly out of its mouth and plop back in the water in front of me, - without a fish attached to its barbless hook.

       I could hear a collective groan arise from the three spectators to my brief and loosing battle. “That was a pretty nice trout.” I said, with that smile still on my face believe it or not. I could also hear the engine of our floatplane coming in over the hills. 

Something to take home in your creel:

       I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t mind losing that fish.  I still get a little sick feeling just thinking about it to this day.  I’ve caught plenty of nice fish on a fly-rod over the years, and that was not the only nice fish that I’ve ever lost, but that probably was my one and only opportunity to ever go fly-fishing in Alaska, and I really, really did want to catch at least one nice fish while I had that chance.  Oh well…

       On the drive back to our cruise ship from the airport I showed Craig the video I had taken of his catch and release of that trophy salmon he had landed.  I gave him my calling card and told him that if he e-mailed me at the church’s website, I would reply and send him a copy of the video along with the other photos I had taken on our adventure. 

       He said, “I appreciate that.”  Then he looked at my card.  “I didn’t have any idea you were a pastor.  Maybe that helps explain why you were so nice and patient with me while I was so uptight over looking stupid in front of everyone because I’d never fly-fished before.  I want you to know that I appreciated that even more than I appreciate you sending me that video.  I was also impressed by the way you reacted when you lost your nice fish.  My family tells me that I need to learn to be more like that when I’m bass fishing.  Now I can see why.  Thanks for that too.”

       “You’re very welcome,” I said, and added, “It helps that I’ve caught more than my share of nice fish along the way.  I’ve learned that it’s all a blessing when you’re out on the water.  What can you do BUT smile - whether you’re catching fish or not?  That being said, I have to tell you Craig, big smile on my face or not, I will always be more than a little bit jealous of that fish that you caught today!”