Winter Time

So what does the Alaska fisherman do during the winter? Tell lies and Tie Flies. The lies are obvious. The haul of the summer gets larger, the stories more elaborate, and the big one gets longer. Tying flies though is key to having a good next summer. You use a grundle of flies.

I went through c;ose to two hundred flies last summer (not a lie). There were the countless throwaways. I used to say I could never bend or break a Gamakatsu. I was wrong. I must busted up or bent out a couple of dozen at least. Salmon destroyed a couple of dozen more. The bottoms of several streams claimed a bunch as well. The rest I gave away.

I share a great deal with my fellow fishers as kind of a streambank camaraderie sort of thing. I probably giving away two for everyone I use. Of course this ruins my cost effectiveness for fly tying, but what you get in return is worth so much more

My favorite give away was to a boy about ten years old. He and his Dad were on their great Alaskan fishing trip. They were running low on flies so I spoke up and gave him one of mine in the color he wanted. He took a look at the fly and asked if it was hand tied, which it was. He got very excited and went to show his dad. "Dad" came up to me a few minutes later and told me how much he appreciated me giving his son the fly and told me that he wasn't fishing with it, he had put it in his cap for a keepsake. Chuckling to myself becasue my flies are definately not "keepsake" quality, I approached the boy a gave him a few more flies on the condition that he actually would fish with a couple of them.

The boy rigs up and wanders down the streambank to the designated kid spot near the Russian River ferry. About ten minutes later, here he comes walking up the bank with large red. The fish was still flopping in the kid's arms, but there was no way he was letting go. The smile on his face was incredible, I turned to say something to his dad and saw an even bigger smile of pride over what his son had done.

As the boy walked by, he told me, "Hey mister, I caught it on your fly."

A hand-tied coho fly; 35 cents. A Russian River Ferry Ride; eight bucks. Making a father son moment like that happen...

P.S. This story would not have been possible except for my wonderful, beautiful, and gracious wife who frees me to go fishing many times each year. It is a gift I do not say thank you for nearly enough.

Why my wife is so wonderful

You look at the headlines at the checkout stand of the grocery store and see oodles of who is cheating on who, the daily divorce, 17 ways to tell if your lover is faithful, or how Elvis’ secrets from the grave spell doom for Lisa Marie’s latest beau. I snicker at the outrageousness of it all, but grimace at the underlying truth. There are a lot of hurting and broken relationships out there. I daily count my blessings Linda’s and mine are not among them.

My wife is the mother/nose wiper/kitten catcher/feeder/cleaner upper/transporter of four children (five if you rightly count me), an eighty book a year reader, an awesome writer, a co-founder of a moms and preschoolers ministry, the leader of one and participant in another book club, a part-time salesperson in a local art gallery, the manager of our household. She is stunningly beautiful, remarkably brilliant, quick-witted, charming, and an absolute delight to be around.

Linda sent me home from the hospital after the births of kids 2, 3, and 4 so I could get a good night sleep.

Linda lets me sleep at night when the kids are sick, crying, or just plain old awake.

Linda sends me fishing many times a summer, even though she is on the clock 24-7.

Linda tells me what I need to know, so I don’t have to guess what she is thinking.

Linda sits on the couch and talks with me into the late hours of the night, even though all she really wants to do is pick up the book that is resting in her hand with a finger so tenderly tucked between the pages where the words are eagerly awaiting to be read.

Linda challenges me to strive for the best rather than settling for good enough.

Linda has taught herself to cook ad eat salmon and halibut making delicious dishes of smoked salmon creamy pasta, barbeque salmon, halibut tacos, beer battered halibut, salmon cakes, and many more, making me feel my fishing trips are somehow worthwhile.

Linda insisted on buying the Outback instead of the Legacy.

Linda put her foot down to ensure we got the right house.

Linda is selflessly there for her friends and family in their time of need.

Linda washes, dries, and folds the laundry for our family of six.

Linda paints murals on the walls for our children.

Linda takes the kids to the zoo, the park, on outings, and out and around all summer.
Linda puts up with my weird work travel schedule, sends me off with a kiss and tear in her eye, talks with me for hours when I’m on the road, eagerly tells me to hurry home, and greets me more times than not with a kiss and a warm meal that was not cooked in a restaurant.

Linda gives me perspective in my times of trouble, provides me kind and sound counsel, and is there to support me in my various neuroses.

Linda looks beautiful in black, white, purple, red, green, orange, yellow, gold, silver, diamonds, in my arms, in the car, soaking in the sun, doing the dishes, reading a book, and playing spider on the computer while talking with her mom/brother/friend on the phone.

Linda tells me what is on her mind, on her heart, and on her nerves. She speaks the truth in love, love in kindness, and kindness in sincerity.

Linda invests time in her friendships, bringing me delight in getting to know those around her even more.

Linda lets me tinker in the yard and garage, tie flies for fishing, sleep in, play computer games, and watch movies.

Linda lets me drag the family around on adventures.

Linda lets me spend time one-on-one with the kids.

Linda lets me be right every now and then, even though I am likely wrong.

Linda is my best friend.

Linda is blushing now as she reads this.

Shishmaref - The People and The Art

Shishmaref - The People and The Art

Working in Alaska has brought to me a unique opportunity to spend time with an incredible community, Shishmaref. Located on the coast of Alaska, just below the Arctic Circle, this native Alaskan community bears witness to both an ancient way of life and the ever changing world around us.

I plan to do a few blogs about my trips to this corner of the globe, but first I might show you some of the art that these people have become famous for. Most of the pieces I bought on Shishmaref. One of the masks I bought in Nome, but it was made by an artist on Shishmaref. Aside from their normal hunting and fishing activities, much time is dedicated to making their art. There is a strong sense of tradition in Shishmaref, with many of the younger generation embracing the need to keep this art form alive. The art they make is intended to be sold, lest anyone think the good folks of Shihsmaref are being taken advantage of. Selling the art give many of the people a source of income needed to support themselves and their family in bush Alaska.

The figure above was the first piece of art I acquired. It is one of the classic forms common to Shishmaref. It is a hunter with a spear. The hunter is made from whale bone, with the face being an inset piece of caribou horn. The spear tip is made from walrus ivory with the blade being balene. The spear rope is ugruk (bearded seal) gut. The inset marks on the hunter are also balene.

These two pieces are called wall hangings. Made from whale bone, the eyes are ivory with balene insertsas are the two inserts below the mouth. The mouth inserts traditionally signified someone of great importance. There is a name for the mouth inserts, but the word escapes me. The figure on the left I bought in Nome, with the right figure aquired on Shishmaref itself.

The last figure we have is called a horn doll. It is made with a caribou horn, clothed with various furs. This one has ugrok, caribou, and I beleive rabbit. The face of the doll is painted.

So what does this posting have to do fish fishing? The people of Shishmaref ice fish during the winters, and likely are the same people who helped inspire the Alaska Mary Ann fly.

Mostly for me, however, the blog is a way to share something not a lot of people get a chance to see.

If Shirley and Cliff are reading this, thank you for your ongoing hospitality. The sourdoughs are awesome.

An Ideal Day

Ideal - A conception of something in its absolute perfection.

Those who have fished for many years often have stories of the ideal as it relates to their pastime. Sometimes it just all comes together. The fish are in, the water is just right, and you have guessed correct on the lure of the day.

My new favorite fishing hole was taken, but 20 yards down looked like a favorable spot. There were five or six others fishing this gap in the vegetation, with only just one spot remaining, the upstream dog spot. I call the upstream end the dog because the fish have to pass through a gauntlet of hooks and lines before I have a chance at them. But it looked like a reasonable enough spot, so I staked my claim and set up shop.

Still warm from the half-mile hike just finished, I dropped my backpack on the bank and started to gear up. This was my first outing with a new rod, a bait casting 9’ Ugly Stick with a 6500 Abu Garcia reel loaded with 30lb mono. The terminal gear was a 2/0 Gamakatsu Red Octopus, egg loop tied with red yarn. Leader was about two feet to a ½ ounce spin weight. Two casts later I augmented the spin weight with two-¼ ounce split, clamped above and found the bottom bounce nicely. I chose a standing wave as my starting point for the drift, with about six feet of line out, bringing the line in all the way to the weight in the calmer water just down stream of me.

I settled in for a few hours of line flipping, expecting some significant tuning to the gear before the bite was on. Cast one defined my drift. Cast two defined the downstream end. Cast three, say aren’t those reds in my gap? Cast four, fish on!

The red flashed to the surface and caught air trying to shake the hook, but it was set hard, but unfortunately in the dorsal fin. With no quick break off likely I played him on in and beached the red quickly. A shard yank with the forceps and the hook came free and the red scurried its way back to the Kenai.

Snag and release became the name of the game for a while. Lot’s of action for sure, but several back snags later had me adjust my rig for answers. I had one tail snag that hit hard and it was off to the races. I cranked the star drag to full and he was still taking line. I thumb braked it with not much luck, forcing me to use the double thumb trick normally reserved only for the most stubborn of snags. Finally I stopped the fish with about 100 yards of line out. Thankfully, the leader finally snapped off, but not before fouling two or three people in the process.

I switched back and forth between coho flies and egg loops with pretty much the same result. I then started to dip the rod tip under water to bring the bottom end of the drift as close to the bottom as possible. Three pinkish keepers later, I was in the ideal. Between snags and fair fish, I lost count of the number of salmon on in the four hours we were there (I am guessing about fifteen total). I had the spot so closely nailed; I was even picking up smolt and fry that were out-migrating.

My buddy Jeff was having one of the more typical days those who fish have. The skunk monkey was firmly on his back. Poor guy. He came down to hole I was at and I turned it over to him while I cleaned the three. Still no luck for him. Same drift, same everything, and not a fish to be found. (I later found out he had brought a banana with him. Oh the horror, the horror). I cleaned up my last fish and tried the spot again. A few drifts later and a fish was on. This one flashed bright as a new dime in a wishing well. I played it out a beached it. Silver!!! My first legit coho in Alaska. I couldn’t believe it though Jeff said it was. Checking the ID charts at home, he was proven right. It was a hen and was chock full of roe. The fillets were thinner than reds, and lighter in color. I turned all the meat to be smoked, twelve pounds in all.

So my final count for the day was six to the bank. Three keeper reds, two snags, and a silver. Add to that the several snag and release in play, the many smolt and fry, I had found an ideal day of fishing in Alaska. Fish On!!

Fish On

Poets talk about "spots of time," but it is really fishermen who experience eternity compressed into a moment. No one can tell what a spot of time is until suddenly the whole world is a fish and the fish is gone.
- Norman Maclean A River Runs Through It

Three hours of frustration. Why do I do this to myself? People are landing fish up and down from me. I wasted another whole day for nothing!! The fellow upstream has just hit his limit, and I am hitting my boiling point. Two spots down, the old timer finishes and offers me his spot. Believe me I jump for it. Seeing so many fish come out of his gap, there has got to be one in there for me. Perched on a rock on the upstream edge of rapids, I see why this point has been good. Eight feet down lie two boulders cause water to flume through a gap about the width of my shoulder. He tells me put your line with a drift through the outside standing wave then draw across.

On my new perch I am learning the hole. The water is quicker here , but rather than weighting up, I shift down to a half. At that weight and about fifteen minutes of trial and error I am hitting the flume about two feet deep and coming straight across right angle to the flow. Then I see it. A double flash a two Reds explode out of the flume sprinting upstream. So clearly visible it startles we, but my rod get a firm yank and I set the hook. Fish On!!!!

The Red sprints to the middle of the river and I let her run, slowing it ever so gently to finish and test the set. It is firm and the battle is on. I steer her down river and reel in quickly as she runs for the bank. Downstream of the rock flume now, I know that she won't be coming to me. I am going to her. I come down off my perch into the knee deep river and bam, another run, but not in a good direction.

At my angle the line draws under a near snag and the end is near. A line on a log equals a quick breakoff. But the set holds. I do a few tugs this way and that but to no avail, the line in under the log to stay. Knowing the fish is probably lost any way, I go for broke. If the line won't come out from under, I will pass my rod under and take it downstream. A quick splash and into the flume I go, into waist deep but slow water now, I quickly pass the rod under the log and too the other side, expecting when freed, the line will be slack from the fish being off my line. I reel the slack and am surprised to find to find she is there with me, but now without much fight left.

I bring her to landing distance and with no shore to beach and not a net to be seen I do a first for me, I move my scruff my fish with my right and pick her free from the water. Hookup to landing, maybe 2 minutes. Memories of the battle won, eternal.

The perch stayed hot for me, and I limited in about ninety minutes. Fish four broke my rod tip, but a quick extra snap to take it to the next guide gave me a usable 8'2" rod from my 8'6" original. I finish the other two and go for my basking in the sun. The broken rod fished so well, my buddy picks it up and brought in three more before we called it a day.

Between us, we took ten from the run we were at, with likely sixty more coming to others.

Fish On!!!

Coho (Russian River)Fly

Coho (Russian River) Fly
This is the most important fly in my tackle box. Shown here in the classic red and white, it can be tied in almost any variant of color bucktail and hook. It can be bought at Wal Mart at 3 for a buck or at Gwin's (if you don't know, you likely haven't fished the Russian) for 75 cents. I know costs me more, but I actually prefer to make my own.

For me, it is all in the hook. The store bought versions tend you use the cheapy hook. You do get what you pay for. The cheap hooks dull quickly, bend, or snap at inopportune times (like when you have a fish on). I prefer the Size 2 Gamakatsu T10-6H. These buggers are nasty wicked sharp. The penetrate skin with just the weight of the fly, as my thumbs can attest. Plus, the have a high yield strength, thus less bent hooks on snagged rocks. I have seen a tendency to bend the last eigth of an inch from time to time, but doing this once or twice a day is really not that big of a deal. Many times, I have been able to plier them back to shape and keep fishing the fly. I use dyed buck tail and head cement to keep the fly together. A friend of mine caught six reds in a row, before he had to retire one of these.

Like I said, this fly is the most important in the box for me. I have caught pinks, reds, and rainbows, but the target is of course the Kenai Sockeye. Rumor has it that people are sight fishing silvers out of Ship Creek with these this year. Maybe I will add a coho to the slaughter list. Hmmmmm. Fish On!!!

Where it all began.

So actually the passion did not begin with fly fishing. From my earliest childhood, I remember running up and down the docks and piers of Puget Sound (yes Mom, I meant I was walking and I did have my life jacket on) chasing pile perch and bullheads to my heart's content. I remember pulling dog fish from the depths that were longer than I, and rock cod bright and spiny. Cruising in my parents boat brought all sorts of fish. Flounders, cabezon, cod, pollock, and of course salmon. One of my best memories was my sister Karen hooking into a 21lb king off of Point Defiance. Mom finally had to land it, but needless to say, there was salmon on the menu for a long time.

Enter college and early married life, and no longer having access to a boat, fishing took a back seat. In 2001, after an intense stress period in my life, my beautiful wife (see her blog at http://alaskabookworm.blogspot.com/) sent me on a surprise fishing trip to Sooke, Canada. Two days of fishing, cigars, and golf brought new clarity to my life. Of course catching 15, 30, and 32 lb kings didn't hurt either.

The hook was set.

Deciding that a boat was not in the picture, I looked to the streams and rivers. I knew some of spin casting, but longed for something a bit more meaningful. Fly fishing seemed the ticket. I took an intro class in 2002 from the Avid Angler (http://www.avidangler.com/). From stream entomology to fly tying, I knew this was it.

The Alaska Mary Ann

The Alaska Mary Ann
The Alaska Mary Ann is one of my first ventures into the tying of classic flies. I will never fish with this one, it is meant for display only. I cut the tail hackle a bit short, but it is still a beautiful fly none the less. The following is the text from from the Alaska Flyfishers (AFF) book, ‘Fly Patterns of Alaska,’ published by Frank Amato Publications.

“This is the official fly of the Alaska Flyfishers. It was developed by Frank Dufresne, and several versions of the story about it’s origin exist. Even Dufresne himself has been reported to have told different stories on different occasions. For many years Eskimo women in the Kotzebue area have used a small jig, called the ‘Kobuk Hook,’ to jig for char and sheefish through the ice. It is made from a sliver of ivory, a bent and sharpened nail, and some polar bear hair. Dufresne tried them on a fly rod and found them very effective. When he ran out of the originals, he tied a duplicate using regular fly tying materials.
According to one story, the fly was named for the Eskimo lady who gave Dufresne the ‘Kobuk Hooks' and whose name was Mary Ann. This version was shown to club member Harry Geron in 1953 at Sparrevohn Air force Station by a man who claimed to have been a friend of Dufresne, who showed him how to tie it and told him it’s history. For many years this has been a good pattern for virtually all predatory fish in Alaskan rivers and lakes.”

From that we now go to a reference by H.H. Smedley. The source is ‘Fly Patterns and Their Origins,’ published in 1950 by Westshore Publications, Muskegon, Michigan. Again, I will take the text directly from the pages of the book.
“This pattern was conceived and perfected by Frank Dufresne, whose name and fame are known throughout Alaska. From southeastern Alaska to the Arctic he has fished, guided, explored and carried on his work as a naturalist for twenty odd years. During much of that time he worked in the official capacity as Fish and Game Commissioner and later with the United States Fish and Wildlife service. He is the author of ‘Alaska Animals and Fishes.’
On the Kobuk River, north of Nome, in the summer of 1922 he saw the natives there fishing with an artificial bait. It was made of ivory and shaped not unlike a small modern lure. The copper hook, not barbed, had attached to it a small triangular piece of red skin from the corner of a guillenot’s bill, a black eye made from whale bone was inserted at the forward end of the piece of ivory and a sparse topping of white polar bear hair was attached.
In 1929 Dufresne, for fly fishing, reproduced the lure in hair and feathers. A silver tinsel body, red tag, jungle cock eye and polar bear wing on a long shank hook and the Alaska Mary Ann came into being.

The name Mary Ann in Alaska is used to describe or refer to a girl whose name might not be known. It is an expression, used much the same as ‘baby doll’ was used, some years ago.”