fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)


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few words, some pictures, more to come

We’re back after travelling from San Francisco to Ketchikan, Juneau and Skagway, Alaska, and back again in 10 days…leaving at the end of August and returning to the start of September.

I’d say our trip when by fast, but the ship rarely exceeded 21 knots and the days were packed with the history, wilderness and the people of Southeast Alaska.

There was amazement that two of our ports o’ call can only be accessed via plane or boat. Pink salmon crowded the rivers and brought out the bears. We tasted beer that can’t be found anywhere else.

Pictures for now; words later.

https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf

(You can directly access the Picasa album, with captions, by clicking here.)


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north to Alaska…

It’s not that we’re abandoning the six regular readers out there, but three-hundred and fifty-nine days have passed since plans were laid and, finally, we’ll be cruising to Alaska just about 14 hours from now. There’s no fishing in the plans, but that’s not to say it won’t come to pass. (The Wife’s never put the kibosh on fishing and is even encouraging I do so this trip.) Regardless, there will be thoughts of fishing…in the suitcase is what’s needed to tie the flies I lose in trees use most.

It’s been a crushing week lining up the ducks. Everything’s been done that could be done at work, and whatever’s undone at home will be left that way.

Relativity being a real thing, the next 10 days will likely fly by. And human nature being what it is, I’m selfishly looking upon this as an extension of the birthday that crept up on me today. (Feel free to send any fly fishing gear, a Ferrari or cash.)

It’s not that I’m truly selfish and don’t appreciate those who spend a few seconds minutes stopping by, but don’t expect much in the coming week and a half. It’s just that there’s no guarantee that there’ll be a connection to the Interwebs or willingness to step away from the buffet or bar long enough to write.

I do promise to wave from under the Golden Gate.


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late summer lament, wife on the motorcycle, and a reminder from Churchill

"Four Seasons-Fenner Nature Center" photo collage by Aunt Owwee, used under creative commons licenseHi, I’m Patrick and I’m a fly fisherman. I cast my last fly…

Late Summer Lament

It’d soften the blow to say that I fell off the wagon this summer. The truth is that I nearly missed the wagon entirely.

There are plenty of excuses for not fly fishing as much as I’d have liked this summer. Sure, high water on many of the rivers for much of the summer is another lame excuse. Thankfully, I’m gainfully employed, which while providing the funds for fishing, also limits the time in which to do so.

I did squeeze in some quality and numbers of fish on the few trips I did make, but it’s been too many days. I’m feeling the shakes. The hope is to get in a quick fix next weekend.

But here in California summer won’t wane until late September, although the high country where I prefer to chase trout will have a light dusting of fall colors by then. That’s when we’ll expect to make up for lost opportunities. It’s the annual club trip and my time there this year will be nearly doubled. The chance of larger fish will also be raised with the hope of spending many of those days on a favorite lake that’s lately been giving up some big brown, rainbow and cutthroat trout.

In between now and then, we’ll be heading to Alaska via a cruise ship, giving devoted attention to The Wife, and there will be no fishing. We’re saving up for a week-long fishing trip in The Last Frontier sometime in the coming year. Or the next.

More Adventure on Two Wheels

The Wife surprised me a while ago. “So, when are you going to take me on the motorcycle?”

There’s no telling if it’s the experience gained over a few years of riding or the miles, or maybe the idea of snuggling at speed, but it was clear she was serious after a little discussion. I knew she used to ride, back when rashness of youth focused on the “bad boys” with their Harleys motorcycles.

After buying a helmet last Saturday (not pink and no rhinestones, thank you), we rode on Sunday. Not too many miles, about 15, but enough for me to get the feel of having a passenger. All went well, no doubt helped along by The Wife’s previous riding experience.

Having a wife supporting her husband’s hobby is pretty near; to join in, definitely a bonus.

When Fly Fishing Wasn’t a Political Photo Op

During some general browsing of the web, I came across the article below from the Ottawa Citizen, dated August 28, 1943. It struck me as an illustration of the resolve of leaders not too many years ago. Despite the troubles of the world, time was taken to enjoy a favored pursuit (albeit during a secret meeting codename Quadrant). A reminder, despite the troubles of today, to slow down and savor that which we enjoy.

Churchill Goes Trout Fishing after Secret Confab, Ottawa Citizen, Aug. 28, 1943 (Google News Archive)

Churchill Goes Trout Fishing after Secret Conference in Quebec,
from the Ottawa Citizen, Aug. 28, 1943 (via the Google News Archive)


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what we see (2011-08-04)

  • “There’s a great future in plastics.” Maybe not: Researchers find plastic in more than 9% of fish in northern Pacific. http://ow.ly/5TyRs #
  • Supporters of open-water aquaculture take note: 117,500 triploid rainbow trout escape net pen on the Columbia River. http://ow.ly/5Tyy0 #
  • Love the name of the “Shark Taco Hopper” fly, but sure does look like cotton candy for trout. http://ow.ly/5TxrS #
  • A few senators too worried about the eating of genetically engineered salmon as to miss the larger environmental picture. http://ow.ly/5TxeD #


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what we see this Wednesday (2011-07-27)

  • Cool Job: If I knew back when that there was a job titled “trout bombardier,” I’d have pursued it. http://ow.ly/5LeC1 #
  • How’d they teach ’em to only take out-of-town flies? Dunsmuir plants trophy trout in Sacramento River. http://ow.ly/5LeTx #flyfishing #trout #
  • Cop-car nerd nirvana on the Dallas Police Department’s Facebook page; 85 years worth: http://ow.ly/5Lg7J #
  • Use of spotting scope leads to best #smartphone photo ever? http://ow.ly/5MGrN (And who says parents can’t rock modern tech?) #
  • Not convinced that the wife/girlfriend won’t outfish you if you take her fishing? Then read about this 335-lb. halibut: http://ow.ly/5NExC #
  • Always nice when someone who violates #fishandgame laws helps make the case against himself! http://ow.ly/5NEMx #


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“I shall return”…with flies this time

Above 45 Degrees

Go North, young man.

This post brought to you by the photo prompt “Dream Destinations” from the Outdoor Blogger Network (OBN)

Being relatively new to fly fishing, it’s a bit difficult to answer the question of where I dream of fly fishing. There are so many places I haven’t been.

Generally being a Salmoninae guy, my first inclination was to narrow a dream destination to North American waters north of 45° latitude.

Canada is a blip on the radar — British Columbia for its renowned stillwaters filled with Kamloops rainbows and its coastal rivers and streams for salmon and steelhead, and Ontario for monster brook trout and grayling. Upper bits of Montana and Idaho would qualify as well, and we all know they offer plenty o’ places to fly fish.

But for me, it’s gotta be Alaska, a place I’ve fished, though not with flies.

Longing to Return

Brother and dad looking over the Kenai River

Alaska’s a no-brainer…there’s the entire Bristol Bay watershed — a place that may never be in budgetary reach — but perhaps just as intriguing and perhaps slightly more wallet friendly is Southeast Alaska. (Being a bit late to this post, The River Damsel beat me to choosing this destination, she’s also keen on fishing the 49th state. BTW, I would like to think it’s the compression of a telephoto lens that makes that bear in the third photo in her Dream Destination post only look so close…)

Kasilof River Moose

Where else can the morning traffic jam of drift boats be interrupted by a moose?...

Tractor Launch at Ninilchik

...or does a halibut trip begin with a beach launch?

And while it’s the fishing that’d be the main focus, there is the allure of that full-service, all-inclusive Alaskan lodge experience. There’s nothing like being responsible to only for dressing yourself and showing up for either food, fishing or sleep; it sorta removes any worries regarding the wanton consumption the occasional adult beverage.

Kenai King

Dad's first Kenai king...

Since I’m not retired or self-employed and don’t live within easy driving distance of nice trout water (and general trout season is closed here until the end of April), I’m left to only dream for now…though plans have been made and will be executed in the coming months.

I’d like to thank Rebecca over at OBN for this photo prompt and aggravating an already crazy itch to fish.


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catch Catch Magazine

The act of fly fishing arguably offers as much as visual feast as it does frustrating wind knots and finicky fish any thing else and the new online Catch Magazine exquisitely plays to this aspect of the sport. Calling itself the “Official Journal of Fly Fishing Photography & Film” — smartly avoiding the label “fish porn” and the stereotypical man-holding-fish composition— Catch Magazine is one of a handful of fly fishing Web sites offering almost painfully beautiful images related to the sport.

The first issue premiered this month with an interface that a remarkable page-turning interface. (My thanks to the Feed Fish Flies Blog — an offshoot of Creekside Angling Co. fly shop in Issaquah, Wash., for pointing it out.) Catch Magazine is the brainchild of Powell Butte, Oregon-based angling and outdoor photog and Scientific Anglers tackle rep Brian O’Keefe and Sprit River Studios partner and ESPN Fly Fishing the World Camera Operator Todd Moen. Mr. O’Keefe tackles the still photography while Mr. Moen slips into the role of video editor.

The current/premier issue includes photo essays of fly fishing, of course, in Belieze, Russia’s Kola Pennisula, Alaska and Argentina, with video mixes (be warned of long load times) and a steelhead video.  The bit-longish loading time is worth it. Sprinkled sparsely with reflective narrative, Mr. O’Keefe and Moen wisely let the photographs impart the story.

Worth more than just one look.


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almost famous!

We’re almost famous! Okay, not in “fifteen minutes of fame” kind of way, but we got our mugs, along with some fish, posted somewhere on the Internet other than my corner here at “fishing for words.”

Sure, I sent an e-mail to Melanie at Tower Rock Lodge bestowing praise on TRL’s facilities and food as well as hosts Mark and Mike, guides Rich and Greg, chef Tom, halibut boat Captain Daniel and First Mate Dylan, and TRL staffers Dave, Etta and Austin. And yes, I sent pictures. So yeah, I facilitated the process and tilted the table in our favor. At least we’re not almost famous in a Post Office wanted poster kind of way.


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our excellent Kenai adventure: day five

Bob, our boat-mate.

Bob, our boat-mate.

For our last day at TRL we were teamed up with Bob from New Hampshire for a day on the Kenai River with guide Rich. Sun and blue sky emerged from behind the cloud early in the morning and the conversation — even the bantering between myself, my brother and dad, with Bob and Rich chiming in as well — was good.

Rich quickly began our earnest search for the mighty king. High tide wouldn’t bring fresh fish into the river until two o’clock, so we searched for any fish holding from the previous day. We drifted then ran upriver or to a new spot. Then we did it again. And again.

Rich offering advice to dad on his first fish of the day.

Rich offering advice to dad on his first fish of the day.

Then, sometime during the mid morning and after we had been lulled into inattention, dad’s rod tip quivered. Rich shouted, “Jerry, set it.” Dad pulled the rod out of the holder. At the same time, the rest of us began to reel in line to avoid tangling. Rich positioned the boat to keep the fish from running to far. Soon enough, probably no more than ten minutes, we had a smallish, eight to ten pound king alongside the boat. The decision to keep or release was given over to dad. (Regulations allow keeping one king a day…once you do, you’re done fishing for the day.) The decision was to release the fish. Thanks to this king, I think optimism was fanned in each of us.

After lunch we began to experience what is called “the cheeseburger drop.” Hearty cheeseburgers and homemade chips tend to bring on an urge to sleep, and a warm sun didn’t help. Mark’s head began to bob. Dad’s a bit more practiced at napping in a sitting position, but his eyelids gave him away. I couldn’t see Bob, but I am sure he struggled as I did to keep attention on his rod tip.

With no indication that fresh kings had pushed up with the incoming tide, Rich told us to reel ‘em up as we were heading upstream. We passed the TRL docks and passed around a sweeping bend, then settle in a bit further upriver. Told to “drop ‘em,” we were fishing again. After an initial drift through this run, we motored back up to the top. We had about two hours left to fish.

Me on a king.

Me on a king.

About a third of the way through the run, Rich was on his cell phone and all was quiet. I stared at my rod tip, in disbelief, as it began to bounce towards the stern. “Um, Rich?” I asked. “Strike it!” was the answer. I yanked the rod out of the holder and drew back the rod. The tip plunged toward the river. I reeled for all I was worth through the line seemed to be slack, wondering it whatever was on the end of my line might be running toward our Willie boat.

Sure enough, in a flash of silver the fish turned and began to head around the bow. Rich motored the boat forward to keep up with the king, then drifted as the fish turned downstream. Taking me all the way around the boat, the fish began to tire as I stood at the stern. Three times we tried to get the fish to the net and three times it veered away from the boat. But with Rich’s expert instruction I was able to lead it forward, raise my pole over Rich’s head, then pull down to lift the fish’s head, allowing Rich to get it into the net. My first Kenai king, which ended up measuring 44 inches and about 38 pounds! What a way to end the trip. Since the regulations dictate taking only one king a day from the Kenai, I was done fishing for the day.

Me, my fish, and Rich.

Me, my fish, and Rich.

After settling down and getting my king into the box, we ran up to the top of the run for another drive. We had 90 minutes left to fish.

We had drifted a short distance when dad’s pole tip began to dance. Again Rich called for a strike. Dad lifted the pole out of the hold and heaved back. The pole almost doubled over. Then the line went slack. Bob, Rich and I told dad to keep reeling, knowing that kings often head towards the boat, giving the illusion that there’s nothing on the line. Sure enough, dad’s line began moving away from the boat and in no time was 150 feet out. The king headed to the rear of the boat and rolled, showing a rosy side and giving us a glimpse of its huge size.

This tug of war would play out for almost twenty minutes, with much excitement. I prayed that this fish could be landed as it would be a great way to cap off a “trip of a lifetime” for dad. Again Rich coached the fish into the net and we all were amazed at its size. Fifty inches and an estimated fifty-five to sixty pounds. That king is still in the river…unfortunately it fit nearly smack dab in the middle of the slot limit (forty-six to fifty-five inches). Near as we could determine, it was the biggest fish caught the week of our stay at TRL.

Bigger than he thought!

Bigger than he thought!

That would be the last fish we hooked this trip. Exhausted and exhilarated we headed back to the lodge for a celebratory beer with Bob and Rich, followed by a nice seafood dinner. A surprise cake for Bob’s anniversary and champagne ended up as our dessert.

Good weather, amazing scenery, big fish. What an amazing trip!

I’ll be watching for my next opportunity to return…

Gallery of day five photos from our Kenai fishing trip:


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our excellent Kenai adventure: day four

There’s nothing so nice as taking a one-minute walk to the TRL dock to fish the Kenai River. After a nice breakfast at five-fifteen in the morning we were ready to head out with Mark T. as our guide, with guest Doug. The sky was overcast with the sun winning the battle to shine down upon us. The temperature was about 44°F.

Our guide called the conditions very “fishy,” but the fish were less obliging. He rigged up and dropped our lines. (We were set up with a diver to take the bait, trailing behind the boat, down near the river bottom.)

Most of the early morning consisted of drifting a run then running back to the top to start the drift again. The sun began to warm our bones about mid morning, encouraging a bit of onboard napping.

About mid morning my line was tickled and I made an almost-too-fast hook set. I was expecting a strong tug on the line but instead nearly felt that there was nothing there. Urged by the guide to keep reeling, I did so and felt a bit of more resistance than just the “diver” used to keep the bait close to the river bottom. A short minute later guide Mark proclaimed it to be a decent “red,” meaning a sockeye or red salmon. Reds don’t seem to fight too much and in short order we had a decent sockeye of just about two feet long in the boat.

A short while later Doug’s pole began to dance. With a quick hook set he had a fish on. His line was out about forty-five feet and the fish made a fast run to the boat. A quick turn of its head and it was off…but not before our guide estimated it to be a “large” king. (Large meaning huge.)

One of the nice benefits about fishing the Kenai River is the ability to run back to the lodge for a coffee break and lunch. After lunch we hit the water again. Unfortunately, the red would be the only action we would see this day. All of us in the boat stuck at what seemed to be salmon playing with our bait but to no avail. Regardless, it was a good day with sunshine and fun, capped off by a great Thai dinner and a comfortable cabin.

Gallery of day four photos from our Kenai fishing trip: