'bout time I suppose...

Well well well. 

I may or may not be mistaken, but I do believe this is my first ever post to this esteemed site. Mr. Robbins, aka Brother Jesse, aka Port Steele, aka jessnuts, depending on where you find him, has been after me for quite some time to put something up here. I've never been terribly disciplined about keeping a journal or any sort of regular blog so make of that what you will. I suppose I find it hard enough to keep track of myself and my own doings, let alone share much of any of that with the rest of the world. 

However, I do now find myself with some free time and the inclination to finally oblige Mr. Robbins' wishes. It's a balmy 25° outside right now (celsius, not farenheit), but a gale blows out the nor'west, quashing any prospects of casting a fly today. Yes, if you know much about the area you might have guessed that a) I'm not in the northern hemisphere, but also that b) with it's propensity for nasty weather from that particular direction I am in fact down in New Zealand. More specifically, I am currently out on the Banks Peninsula in a quaint little town called Diamond Harbour staying with some friends. My wife and I arrived here just over a month ago, and though only a modicum of fishing has occurred since, I shall provide you with a brief synopsis of the fishing that has occurred recently, and some not-quite-so recently, dating back to my summer in the bush of Alaska. Yes, that's how long Jesse has been after me to post something (also read: that's how long I have been ignoring his requests for an update to the BFC community.) So here goes...


Part I: Kenai

50 casts into the season and Skoal Apple Blend scores another Steele!

This summer I returned to the Alaska to run a chinook salmon monitoring project on the Kenai Peninsula. The river I was on, the Killey River, is home to the largest stock (population and size-wise) of chinook in the Kenai system. In fact, we counted some 1,450 fish through our weir, out of an estimated 3,333 total escapement. Unfortunately those are some pretty dismal numbers, but maybe once ADF&G pulls their head out of their ass they'll do something about it. Out of our total sample the biggest fish measured 1,250 mm, mid-eye to fork. Likely fish that size weighed somewhere between 60 and 70 pounds...

This is my office.

The D-bag 3000 with an oversized specimen.

I had grand plans of pursuing these monsters with a fly, and almost even invested in a new 15' 10wt spey setup, but soon realized that the conditions were not especially conducive to my particular delusions of such grandeur. It's a relatively large, glacial river with a visibility of maybe nine inches on a good day, so I implore you to attempt finding one of 1,500 fish in such a place. You may now see the cracks in that foundation...

So those hopes and dreams crumbled away with the rising water and I resorted to schooling my co-worker at catching Dolly Varden on the one decent gravel bar that was in fact conducive to catching fish. It gave me great joy to outfish him 2-1 over the course of the summer, for yes, we kept track, but also as Jesse put it during one conversation, "That's a lot of time to spend with a man you don't particularly care for..", and it was my only consolation for his making my life hell.

Early season sport before the salmon arrived. 

We left the choicer water to the more intent fishermen. 

Salvelinus gluttonous

Ahh, the sweet smell of victory!

Unfortunately the situation sounds much better in writing than it was in actuality. It's hard to complain about catching countless Dollys, but realize that perhaps you too might get bored after drifting an egg down the same run for the 5,000th time. And it was literally the only run we had to fish without engaging the bears in some good ole Alaskan-style combat fishing... which happened yet regardless. And did I mention how big of an asshole my coworker was??

I did manage to get out and fish the Kenai proper once while I was in town between projects. I had a friend I met while hitchhiking back from a day of spring steelhead fishing who was guiding for a lodge on the peninsula, and he invited me out for a day when he had only one client on the boat. The fishing wasn't spectacular, but it provided some great photo opportunities.

Jake at the helm, Rob at the ready.

Sockeye success!

Classic scenery for the Kenai.

Part II: Kuskokwim

The second half of my season was spent in the interior of the state in the friendly little town of McGrath. We were out there to conduct a population study on broad whitefish in the Kuskokwim River, which migrate upriver right before freeze-up to spawn. It was classic fishery biology in the sense that our goal was to simply find the fish and figure out what they're doing/where they're going, but unfortunately the day-to-day breakdown of that was pretty repetitive and monotonous. Of note were the spectacular Northern Lights I witnessed one frosty night, and also the impressive array of fish species in these middle reaches of the Kuskokwim. We sampled six different species of whitefish, coho and chum salmon, arctic grayling, some large Northern pike, and even a fair few burbot. One burbot we turned up while electrofishing I would swear was close to a meter and a half long, with a head as large as my thigh! I was particularly intrigued by the sheefish, or inconnu, which is a rather large species of whitefish (family Salmonidae, as many of you may know) that feeds on other fishes much like a pike or brown trout. They are incredibly sporty looking, like a cross between a snook and a tarpon, and have a handsome coat of scales that reminds one of a super flash sports car. Anyone for a destination trip to the Great North??

Our target species.

The stealthy sheefish.

Tarpon of the North.

Greedy lush.

One of the more worthwhile moments from this summer...

Part III: New Zealand

So after returning to Colorado this fall I got married fall and now I don't fish. Just kidding. But seriously, I certainly haven't fished as much, but that may or may not be coincidence...

The honeymoon in New Zealand was actually more an afterthought than anything, as we had plans to come down here before we decided to get married in the first place. Since I do have a wife to consider I haven't fished as much down here as in years past, when I was with fishing buddies like Robbins and we were hell-bent on covering as many river miles as we could squeeze in between the hours of dawn and dusk.

The fishing that has occurred has been with varying degrees of success.

Attempt 1: Spook 2 fish, see no others.
Attempt 2: Get blown off the water by nor'wester.

Attempt 3: Detour for brief look at river; get distracted trying to chase sea run browns that promptly disappear after rigging up.

Attempt 4: Lousy weather after three hour hike in; manage to seduce 3 fish in between squalls of wind and rain.
Attempt 5: Went out with guide friend; might as well not wasted tippet tying flies on as the fish didn't seem to take notice of our offerings anyway.
Attempt 6: Beautiful day, fish hard on the feed, both below and above. Match-the-hatch type scenario, where none of what we had matched the hatch. My friend gets one fish to come up early on, tippet breaks on hook set (likely my fault, it was old tippet...). I cast to the next feeding fish for an hour plus; get him to rise twice to a tiny emerger I can't see and miss both opportunities. Promptly cast fly into branches afterwards. Twenty uninterested fish later, the last one of the day rises confidently to my blowfly, which I confidently lift up and out of his way on a severely premature hookset.

The following pictures are from the one outting that yielded fish to hand (Attempt 4).

Consolation prize for the one I missed on the previous cast...

Another elephant falls victim to the ole Circus Peanut trick!

This one finally acquiesced the second time we came back to him.

So there. I've caught some fish, not as many as I'd like, but I'm making do. Considering that I only caught nine respectable fish my entire go down here last year, the  three from that one day suddenly don't seem so bad any more. And I might add, that was my personal best day down here. So maybe I'm doing alright after all. And there are fishing plans in the works for the upcoming weekend, too. Maybe I won't mention that it might be near some canals near a salmon farm, and maybe I won't mention that it might require sucking down a few cold ones while drowning some bait, but then again if I said that you wouldn't want to hear that fish around the 20-30 pound mark are not uncommon from said location by such unorthodox means, so I'll save my breath.

Speaking of which, I'll try to keep up a little more in the future, i.e. more frequent/succinct, but no promises. I've never good with that sort of thing anyway...

-horm

Journey North

For years, my family has talked of Alaska. With my recent life transition from Wyoming back to the East Coast and my father's retirement, the trip became a reality during the first two weeks in September. It would be the first time any of us had ever visited the state and the first time we had organized a trip as a family in ages. Well before our departure date the itinerary was set - a week exploring the inland passage in the Southeastern Panhandle, a few days at a lodge near Anchorage, and a few days at a lodge in Homer. None of the places on our list were fishing destination specific but with a couple 6 weights picked up in Seattle thanks to a one, Jesse Robbins, we were ready to rip some lips in between scheduled days...and rip some lips we did.

Fishy highlights are as follows...

8/31/12

Arrival in Juneau. Great little town completely cut off from the rest of the world unless you have a boat or plane. The downtown area is full of gift shops selling souvenirs to the hoards of people that invade the town daily by way of cruise ship. After a brief conversation about fishing options with a guy working at a local shop, I was on a taxi heading out of town towards a creek that, according to my intel "miiiiight have some spawned out pinks and a few dolly's left in it". There were a few kicking around.

They were not spawned out.

Chums

The irony of this place was palpable. Here I was, alone with my family, amidst the most beautiful and primordial run of wild fish I had ever witnessed. Tens of thousands of pink salmon pushing upstream in a last ditch attempt at passing on their genes before their inevitable death and decomposition into the nutrients that would support the next generation of life in the Gastineau Channel. A few miles up the road were people who came to see the wild and raw natural beauty of Alaska but were, at the time, buying low quality t shirts and glow in the dark key chains. I felt very very lucky to have received the friendly tip that led to one of the coolest days on the water I've ever had.

9/8/2012

After a week of wildlife viewing and exploring the inland passage, we made our way to the first lodge, just outside of Anchorage. Nearby, there was only one fishable river after a week of rain had muddied up most of the other options. No matter, it had strong populations of sockeye, silvers, pinks, and chums swimming around after the summer's spawn and, more importantly, dolly varden and rainbows that hadn't given up on life and would still eat eggy patterns or something with some sexy flash to it.

 Bead patterns were the ticket and healthy fat rainbows were the main attraction.

Many thanks go to guide Tyrone Potgieter who found the fish, kept it real, got some great photos, and avoided the bears.

9/12/12

On to the next town and a completely new fishery. The charter outfits in and around Homer had just closed up shop for the year on Labor Day so options were limited. I did however receive word of epic salmonid waters a short taxi ride to the North. Taxi-in fishing had produced in the past and it would produce again.

First dolly ever.

I attacked the river for 9 hours this day and although a few dolly's came to net, silvers and steelhead were the main attraction on the Anchor River and the reason people fish it. I hooked into a few silver bombers that day, none of the hookups were solid. This was a hard learning experience as I'm relatively new to steelheading but the time spent on this river was incredible and included such unforgettable moments as an adult bald eagle swooping down to snatch up a dead chum salmon mere feet away, witnessing the landing of a few 3+ foot silvers and steelhead by nearby fishermen, and a good 2 hour lecture on steelhead fishing, life, and love from Bruce, resident of Anchor Point, steelhead conquistador, and all around fuckin boss.

I wouldn't even know where to start or how to describe the rest of the trip, the wildlife seen, and the crisp, jolt of life that I constantly got in the presence of such beauty. Suffice it to say that I've never experienced such a profound connection to a landscape in my life. It felt like leaving home when we flew out of Anchorage even though we'd only known the place for 2 short weeks. At some point, I will be back.

9/14/12

Immediately after leaving Anchorage, I'm off the plane in Seattle and staying with James and Jesse for the weekend before heading home. James and I are out of the house well before dawn the next morning and cruising down the road in search of salmon.

Reel busting coho.

A few hundred casts later, another good 'ol American salmon

This fishbeast provided sustenance in the form of salmon roe sushi rolls and soy and maple syrup marinated steaks.

And if by some divine acknowledgement of this incredible day, James and I spotted the rarest of Anal RV's, the Anal Fireball, at the very beach we spent the morning fishing at. If you have no idea what this is about, please refer to this post. Neither James nor I had seen an Anal Fireball since the last time we had fished together at Henry's Lake, one year before. What did it mean? Neither of us could say for sure, but the gravity and timing of its presence was undeniably profound.

9/16/12

Jesse and I hit the road and drove 100 miles East to grease some healthy little rainbows from a raft in the first Western style trout attack I had been a part of since leaving Wyoming. 

Felt good to fish in the wide open. Felt like being home. 

Thanks for the good times guys.

AK Steelies

I had a 3 day work conference in Anchorage, AK last week and was able to tag on 3 additional days to go 'play.' I left the conference a few hours early and boarded a plane to Yakutat, AK, following a comment from a fishing buddy that I might be timing the run of Steelhead on the Situk River just right. I landed in the Podunk town of a 1,000 people or so, was handed a pickup truck and headed out to a reserved cabin. Did one day offshore--figuring it would be a good change of pace, a way to meet some people in camp, and to come home with some meat for the freezer. One guy landed a halibut around 100lbs, we pulled in a couple smaller ones, some lingcod (out of season) and I ended up catching this yelloweye rockfish which I guess is pretty rare. Anyway, we split it up and I came home with a box full of goodies.

The next day I split a drift boat with another guy and headed out with a local guide. There were a fair number of people fishing the river and everyone seemed to be dead-drifting beads and more beads. Given I had tied a bunch of fur and other patterns in the weeks prior and our guide wasn't providing much direction, I pulled out a big ol leach and started swingin. Third cast in the first hole we stopped at produced this monster. He was estimated to be around 35in+ and about 20lbs. Other guys were certainly catching more fish with beads, but I won't exchange numbers for the memory of watching that fish swim over to eat my a leach on the swing.

Ended up landing one more that day and had 2 more spit. Second day I hooked and fought one even bigger, but ended up losing that one-way battle as he broke me off in some overhanging brush. All in all, and hell of a time and a fish I won't forget anytime soon.

Thanks Wilkie and Robbins for inviting me on this blog. Looking forward to meeting and fishing with some of you guys in the near future. Newer to town and living around Portland.

Endurance Race

A good friend of mine Brad Marden, whom many of you have met, recently completed an endurance noridc ski race across the Alaskan Brooks Range. A 200 mile unsupported wild man race through sub zero days and nights. His team completed the race in 4 days 9 hours. This is the video his teammate shot along the race....epic.