Check out the spots on this one. This fish looks like one of those New Zealand beasts. Long time client Paul P. busted this one on a hopper in the rain. Paul and his fishing buddy Ed are planning a trip real soon, are you? These guys are always my first clients in the spring, they will fish through any conditions to catch a trout.

This is a little something I twisted up. I don’t have a name for it yet, we will see if it works first. Do you think it will get munched? “I do”. I can’t remember what the fish pictured below, Munched? I do recall, it was a slow day in the early spring, we only boated about 3 fish. We boated one bigger than this, just before the take out. I prefer the days when you catch just a few big ones. For some reason we were throwing a soft 4 wgt rod. You can throw streamers with a little light weight rod, even in the wind, if you just sit down. Big fish like these, are a lot of fun on 4 wgt.

Another chapter in the life of a young trout bum. This story is from 1990, I was a second year guide for a well established fly out fishing lodge, in Southwest Alaska. My second year as a guide, I was higher up in seniority. The lodge had just been purchased by some new energetic guys, who had a little money to make the lodge even better. The new owners purchased some real fancy boats, the kind of boats that you didn’t see to often in the bush. The new boats were 21 foot sleds, with 351 Ford V-8s, I recall they had Holly 4 barrel carbs. Bad ass boats, to be trusted to some 21 year old punk guides. The boats were going to be used for King Salmon fishing over on the Branch River. One or two guides would camp out on the river to take care of the boats and guide.

Myself, and high school friend, and fellow guide, Ken Countryman would take the boats one at a time down to the Branch River. This was a big trip from Iliamna to the Branch, just to get the boats across Lake Iliamna was dangerous. The lake is 80 miles long and known for wind and rough swells. Commercial boats headed back to Newhalen would even use caution, heading across Lake Iliamna. Kenny, was going to take the first boat, and I would go a few days later. The boats were equipped with two way radios, they worked mainly by line of sight to the airplanes. Kenny headed out with camp supplies food, and a ton of fuel. He had fifty gallon drum of Av gas in front of the center council, the boat was heavy. Kenny made it fine across the lake, and through the braids of the Kvichak River. He hit a storm down near the village of Leavlock. The Gail force winds blew against the current, causing giant waves. This part of the river is wide and shallow, a mile across, and hard to read due to the muddy tide water. At this point Kenny was in danger, as the swells came over the boat, he could only continue straight into the wind, to turn side ways towards the bank would capsize the boat. The huge waves had the barrel of fuel bouncing all over the boat causing much damage. The fuel barrel broke open all the storage compartments causing Kenny to lose all of his camp gear. Due to the problems occurred from the storm, Kenny missed the turn off to the Branch River. Kenny was now on a hell ride, headed into Bristol Bay, in the eye of a storm.

Back at the lodge, we had no idea of the storm, or that Kenny was in grave danger. We received a radio call from a pilot that happened to be headed through the area. The pilot basically translated to us, Kenny’s distress call. All we knew, was Kenny was in trouble, and we didn’t have contact or his location. I remember being in shock, and really concerned for my friends life. This was the first time I realized, life in the bush is dangerous. Due to the storm we could not go look for Kenny in the airplanes, it was a helpless feeling. Later that night we received information that Kenny had run aground on a tiny island with one of those buoy markers on it, in the ocean. Ken was luckily rescued by a guy who had a set net permit in the area. Ironically, the guy who rescued Ken, was named Savior, without Savior, Kenny might be dead.

Next it was my turn to take a boat. I had never seen the mighty Kvichak, little loan drive a sled on it. The Kvichak had a bunch of braids at the top end, and big tide flats down by the mouth of the Branch. later in years I would work at lodge on this river, and be able to navigate the braids with ease, but at this stage I was worried, especially after Kenny’s fiasco. They flew me down to the branch, so I could see it from the air, I had my mind made up on how to get through the braids, stay middle.

I took off with good weather and a plan to hit the tide right. Things usually don’t go as planned and I departed late that day. I made it through the braids just fine, good conditions, my confidence was building. Looking back on it, I never felt so alive,” high adventure”. I made it down the Kvichak past Jack Holman’s lodge, then past Ron Hayes place. As I went past Hayes Lodge the weather was getting bad. I remember waving to Ron’s pilots as they were returning from the days fishing. It was now raining and blowing hard, I should of stopped at Ron’s, and laid up. Now I was worried again, and kept thinking about Kenny’s trip. A few miles down from Ron’s, the river gets wide and ugly. I had five foot white caps, and could no longer read the water. I was fearful of running into a sand bar and getting stuck. I missed the tide, it was going out against the same wind Kenny had. I passed the town of Leavlock and started looking left, for the mouth of the Branch. We had a group of people fishing on the Branch that day, so when they headed back to the lodge they flew the river to keep tabs on me. I had radio contact with the pilot, and was asking him how close the mouth of the branch I was. The plane flew over my boat at about 10 feet, the ceiling was low and the conditions were getting bad. The pilot was not in a talking mood. As I watched the plane disappear into the fog, I felt all alone. I was actually glad I wasn’t flying in this shit, that pilot was a real cowboy.

I was kind of getting scared, I wished I wasn’t on this huge, wide, ugly water. The white caps were coming over the gunnel’s, buckets of cold water were hitting my face. I made my mind up to get up the Branch and out of this weather. I angled the boat to the left bank, I had to be close. The gas barrel was starting to bounce on the boat floor. I needed to get out of this wind! I turned up what looked like a mouth of a river, hard to tell in these tide flats. Finally, yes, I was headed up the Branch. The river got smaller and as I started to get out of tide water, it started to look like a river, a river that I could read. Although I was panicked a hour before, now I was looking at this new river wondering were the trout might hold? Even though I had twenty more miles to go and then set up a camp, I wasn’t worried anymore.

As I made my way past Tony Sharp’s lodge, I had allot of ugly stares as I cruzed through. I could tell these guys were not happy to see this new fancy boat on their river. What a shitty looking lodge, I coined the phrase “Ply Wood Palace” at that moment. I knew we would never be friends, so be it, Tony Carp. The picture is from a few days later, I had a kid from Oregon camped with me, the kid could catch kings. I liked trout.

Sittin here doing my taxes, thinking about large browns. This toad was caught at a warmer time of year. Judging from who is in the boat, this one was caught on a dry fly. Jumbo let me catch this one. I hooked it on a hopper, way off the bank above Pelican, you know the spot? Any way back to my taxes, looks like I made as much as Romney. Fishing has been very good to me:)

This is a little something I’ve been tying up. Oh yeah, not just this color, I got it in bunch of flavors. I’m going to catch a biggie on this one, I’m sure. If you throw them long enough you will eventually get yanked on any streamer. It seems like every spring, the fish tune into something completely different than what they liked last year. I like to make the fish come off the bottom and eat near the top. The flashy streamer, like the one pictured will make them attack in a upward motion. I love the visual effect of the flashy streamer, the “butterscotch explosion,” is hard to beat.

This one has some nice colors. Got this one in March, he munched the “Big-hole Crawler”. When they eat the Crawler, they try to kill it with the strike. I’ve seen um come 15 feet to kill this fly. I wonder if they will eat it this spring?

Just dream-in about those spring days. I’ll go in about a month and a half. How about you???

Back in 1989, my first year as a guide. My first season, I had allot to learn. I recall practicing tying my knots on the flight to Anchorage. I would be tested on a few things when I got to the lodge, like knot tying, casting and some basic entomology. All of us new guides would learn how to run a jet boat and do basic mechanical maintenance. Some of us would excel, and some would not even make the cut, only to be sent home to wherever.

Dad taught me to cast a fly rod in the back yard a couple of months before my big job in Alaska. I was a bass fisherman up to this point, I just knew I wanted to get away, and work in the out of doors. When I arrived in Iliamna to work as a fishing guide, all I had was the basics. I was pack-in stuff I could afford, I mean stuff my mom and dad could afford. My dad set me up pretty good now that I think of it. I had Cabela’s 5 mm waders. I had a Fenwick (Eagle) 8wt with a phluger reel, the rod was a beast, but the reel was toast in about two weeks. Dad sent me with his TC contender handgun, you know, the one with the changeable barrels? The gun was a hog leg, in a 44 caliber.

It was Bob Robinson, a friend of my dad’s that helped get me hired at this lodge. Bob guided at this place the year before, he gave me some great advise about lodge life. Bob’s advice was simple, if you want to fish allot, and you don’t want to work allot, volunteer to stay at one of the out camps. I didn’t know much about fly fishing at this point, but I did know I liked to fish, so I would be heading to a camp, first chance I got.

I passed all the tests required by my employer, and really picked up on running the jet boats. The lodge owners back in those days had guides camp out on the rivers that were a ways away from the lodge. We camped at these remote locations to take care of the boats, have them clean and ready for the clients. Having a guide at a camp also saved weight in the float planes, and the guide definitely had a pulse on the river. I would typically fish up to 16 hours a day back then, hard to believe we had time to drink.

I got my first chance to go to a camp just a few weeks into the season. I stayed at the Kamishack River. The Kami was a good place for a young guy to really learn about the wilderness of AK. We learned about running those boats real good, and about high tides, and about bad weather. We also learned how to cook on a fire, fillet fish and most importantly how to catch fish. I stayed at the Kami 65 days straight, I’m sure this record still stands. I caught chums, pinks, silvers and char on the old Fenwick, I caught hundreds of fish.

The fish in the picture was from a once great trout river. I believe this was from early summer 1989. This is before I made it off to a out camp for most of the summer. I spotted this fish and sight casted a Zug Bug to him. This was cool stuff, I knew then that my bass fishing days were numbered. Funny how we remeber things, like what one fish ate.

We all need a vacation…

This is a picture from last summer. This guy is a Brown Trouts Biggest nightmare. All we need are some dry flies, a pack of smokes, maybe 3 packs, and some sunglasses. Look out Brown Trout.