And then there were two...Second Float

Wednesday evenings dinner was a celebration of sorts.  We had managed to tune a few insanely large steelhead all the while getting drenched yet again to the core.  The Steaks were just that much better on the heels of an epic day.  Over dinner and drinks the conversation naturally turned to what was in order for Day 5 or Thursday.  I certainly wanted to float the river but there was a mood of apprehensiveness in the air…some reluctance if you will and for good reason.  It had now been raining continuously for some 48 hrs  with no end in sight. 

The weatherman threatened yet another couple of days of 50+mm or 2+” each day.  The river was now literally rising right before our eyes.  After Tuesdays inaugural ass whooping in the drift boat Red was quite verbal that he could not pull off another 11 hour float.  He could do it but was in no shape to offer any assistance and still reluctant at that.  He was smashed and still sore from the long float and the incident where he almost went ass over tea kettle into the river.  I had only gotten a taste of the river on Tuesday and the little I had gotten left me longing to fish the lower river hard. 

The pods of fish and sexy water we blew by in pursuit of the pull out late in the day on Tuesday left me feeling short changed.  This coupled with the fact that we had gotten a bump in the flow had me dreaming about a gigantic push of epic proportion.  My logic had no effect on Red.  Actually it had the opposite.  Tuesday seemed to have taken its toll on Old Man Maxfield and put the fear of God into him.  Red wasn’t about to roll the dice on a quickly rising Situk after what he had witnessed and experienced a few days prior.  I was open for suggestions and wasn’t about to dismiss the possibility of another unguided float now having seen the river first hand. 

I was game to pull it off again but I was certainly in no position to row three of us in a giant 16’ tin can some 14 miles or so down river.  After all I was on vacation too and  physically it would have killed me to repeat Tuesdays float without any one spelling me off on the oars.   I was open to suggestions.  One of the options the boys came up with was to hire a guide for the day to float three of us down.  It was an interesting proposition so we talked to the head guide and found out that there was an opening for the day.  Naturally the conversation reached the fee structure and our end of day cost. 

We were taken aback when we learned it would be $300 per person plus tip.  I was the first one out only beating Scotty by a half a second and quickly followed by Red.  A thousand dollar day was no where on my radar especially not knowing  exactly what impact the last 4-6” of rain would have instore for us down low.  With this option abruptly ruled out we were left with only two choices.  The first was to run the river ourselves as we had travelled to Yakutat to do or wade fish up by 9 mile bridge again.  Scotty was quick to proclaim that he didn’t come to Alaska to fish under a bridge and I shared his sentiments exactly. 

Red stated he was more than happy to fish up at 9-mile solo so we devised a plan that saw Red fish the bridge and pick us up at the take out later in the evening.  It was finalized and we informed the lodge staff that we would require a drift boat for two of us in the morning.

Later that evening, after a few drinks it was becoming apparent that Red was somewhat concerned for our well being.  He made no bones about it and stated he thought we were going to have our hands full with the rising river conditions and we were crazy for even thinking about it.  We laughed it off and changed the topic back to the days successes and the crazy amount of giant steelies we tricked. 

I could tell Red was really looking forward to hitting that big run up by the bridge again.  He ran the switch rod all day trying to mimic what is done best with a centerpin and was really looking forward to another crack at her with his float rod.
We awoke Thursday morning to the sound of heavy rain on the metal roof of the cabin.  It was relentless and becoming the norm.  We arrived for breakfast to an empty lodge.  The guides were  long gone and only the kitchen staff remained.  We ordered breakfast and  notified our server that we would require pack lunches for the day and our driftboat hooked up to the van as soon as possible. 

She had a puzzled look on her face followed by a warm smile before disappearing to the kitchen.  A while later she came back with our orders and notified us that the staff were across the way working on remodelling the old barracks accommodations and that I would have to find one of the guys over there to get the drift boat.  Red was getting antsy and started to caution us on proceeding with our intended float.  While I searched for some help in the pouring rain Red was verbally putting the fear of God into poor Scotty back at the van.  In my absence he had totally convinced Scotty our proposed float was a dire mistake. 

Luckily for me I found our buddy Ben and together we hooked up a sweet little 14’ drift boat complete with super light Carlisle oars.  It was now nearing 8:30 and I made my way back to the van to tell Scotty we were good to go and was greeted by silence.  Reluctantly Scotty asked me what the game plan was and I looked him in the eye and sternly proclaimed…”We’re goin Fishin Brother!”  I must have instilled some sense of confidence in my demeanor because a look of relief came across his face accompanied by a giant smile. 

Red fell back into his seat and proclaimed we were crazy or something to that sort.  I am certain Red thought we were going to die in our endeavours.  His concern was genuine and nice to know someone cared but we didn't let hime know that.   We joked about what lay before us as we made the 9 mile drive out to the launch.  I told the boys I had made peace with all of the people important in my life the night prior via wifi so I was good to give her hell today.  Along the way Red suggested we take his lunch with us on the float in the event we run into some trouble.  Once again he was certain no good was to come of our efforts.  We finally reached the launch and dropped the boat in.  The river was up at least 3 feet since our arrival on Sunday and flowing proud.  We revisited the meeting time and details, bid our farewells, and set out on another adventure into the unknown.

Our game plan was pretty simple.  We were going to blow through the first 4-6 miles of river without even wetting a line. 

This would afford us the luxury of fishing all the sweet water on the lower river that we had passed up on Tuesday in lieu of making the launch before dark.  With the increased river level and flow we were making great time.  The smaller drift boat and decreased cargo weight had us manipulating the river like downtown.  The first 2 miles  remained crystal clear but as we proceeded further we started to pick up some stain and colour.  We come around a big bend in the river to a gathering of 4 or so drift boats.  We had reached  the “forks”.  The guides were positioned here with their clients fishing the clear water line from the incoming flow.  There was a well-defined interface  of clear water and partially stained water running three to four hundred yards down stream. 

Upon our Approach Tommy from the lodge turned around and cautioned us to be super careful from this point forward.  He went on to tell us that he had packed his chainsaw in the event safe passage needed to be cut.  We told him our plan of fishing the lower river and he laughed at the suggestion stating that it wouldn’t even be recognizable from our previous drift.   This got me concerned so we positioned the boat just below the grouping and fished the seam coming off of a small point of land jutting out into the main flow.  The anchor was barely holding our position when my float dropped and I was into the first fish of the morning. 

It was a hot fish and pulled the boat further down river until the anchor reset.  Scotty manned the net.  We went over the boat netting technique in the fast water and agreed upon our strategy.  I have to admit I really didn’t see the entire ordeal ending well but Scotty came through and made an amazing scoop.  It was another great moment and cheers erupted from our boat.  After a few pics we sent the pretty lady on her way.  The boat was a good hundred feet from where we had hit that fish so I pulled anchor and attempted to row up against the flow.  It quickly became apparent that I would not be revisiting that line and any upstream momentum was not  in the cards.  We floated another hundred feet or so down river until I set us up in front of a smaller feeder creek emptying into the main flow. 

Once again after a few drifts I was into another hot fish.  It certainly was looking promising and after another stellar battle and amazing net job we had our second large hen in the boat.  Visions of a giant push of fresh fish entered my head and once again we found ourselves floating down stream in search of another fishy looking locale.  The further we floated the dirtier the water became and soon we found ourselves in 12-16” of visibility.  We rounded a bend and arrived at the forest service cabins.  We now knew we were a mile or two from the midway point and it was looking like we would be at the takeout a lot earlier than we had initially anticipated.   We were making crazy time and blasting through the obstacles like professionals in the 14 footer.  We tried all of the slack high water hideout vantage points but the rising flow and muddied waters made our efforts somewhat futile. 

We made the best of it enjoying the scenery, cracking a few beers, eating our lunches and laughing at all the crazy things Red had said or done on the trip so far.  The better part of the day was spent with some good old fashioned Tom Foolery in the middle of nowhere Alaska.  We stopped periodically for a few drifts but it was pretty much pointless.  One repeated theme of the day was a discussion on what we would order that night for dinner back at the lodge. 
We must have analyzed every option and combination on the menu until we were firm and set on Double Cheeseburgers with fries and sides of onion rings.  It was a genius soul food selection for two wet and cold river rats that would certainly recharge our engines.  If for nothing more than to pick up our spirits we had prize at the end of the road. 
We rounded the last bend and the smell of salt and the crash of the ocean waves became apparent to our olfactory.  We were very close and it was only 5pm.  Tommy the lodge guide had been on our heels for the past mile or so and I wasn’t about to let him overtake me so I stayed on the oars hard right to the pull out. 

We shared a laugh about it once he pulled in behind us with his two clients.  He offered to shuttle us back to the lodge but we feared we would miss Red in passing so we opted to let Tommy relay the message to him that we were at the pullout early if they should cross paths.  We had 4 beers left.  We killed some time walking out into the estuary beach combing and exploring.  We also checked out some old dilapidated fishing camps that had been left for ruin long ago.  This is an extreme and harsh environment and it was obvious that Mother Nature wastes no time here reclaiming what once belonged to her.  We met a few fellows that had flown in from Anchorage that morning and planned on hiking up river to fish.  We made small talk passing time while we nursed our last beer.  It was now nearing 7pm and we noticed the headlights of what appeared to be a white Ford Econoline van making its way through the minefield of potholes along the Lost River Road.  We were certain it had to be Red and I joked to Scotty that he better have brought us some cold Beers for the ride back.  It was indeed Red and he made the turn around and started to back the trailer down towards the river to the boat. 

Once we loaded her up Red  notified us he had taken the liberty to order us both Steaks with Baked potatoes to go and they were awaiting us in the van.  Poor Scotty’s heart stopped beating for a few minutes while he was deciding whether he should choke poor Red and throw him in the river now or kill him later back at the cabin. LOL!  Our dreams of Double Cheese Burgers and Onion Rings were crushed by a very thoughtful and generous act of human kindness.  A long damp and cold day on the river will test a man’s reasoning and  patience and what may have been the nicest thing anyone had ever done to us was taken in the opposite regard.   Red didn’t waste any time notifying us he brought along two full cases of cold Rainier as well so his status instantly returned from Zero to Hero in a matter of seconds.  I will admit the steaks certainly smelled amazing and one can never really have a bad Rib steak but the thought of those homemade cheese burgers with the Onion Rings haunted us all evening.  Poor Scotty was devastated.  

The ride back was filled with stories from the day and the periodic verbal jabs about the Steaks.  We laughed and rested our smashed and tired bodies as the van pounded the potholes on the way out.  Red notified us he had a successful morning and managed to turn 8 fish up at the bridge in the half day he fished.  He spent the remainder of the day taking a nap at the cabin, getting beer, filling the van with Gas, and having a relaxing solo meal back at the warm and dry lodge prior to Tommy finally remembering to tell him we were down at the launch early waiting for him.  We were certain Red had eaten Cheese Burgers and Onion rings for his dinner but he wasn’t going to admit it at any cost.  That decision probably saved his life…LOL!  We made it back to the cabin around 8pm, hung our damp gear to dry,  and settled in for some laughs over beers for the remainder of the evening.  All the while the rains kept falling…

Under The Bridge

Tuesdays float left us saturated and sore. After manipulating some 14 miles of Situk gravel bars and Log Jams we were looking for a change of pace. The previous morning’s snowfall had changed to a steady rain by mid afternoon and the downpour ensued all evening and well into the morning. We awoke Wednesday to a partially flooded parking lot down at the bay and a stern reminder that after all we were indeed in North America’s largest temperate rain forest.

The Rain was a mixed blessing. There was no argument that it would certainly have a positive impact on the river. Most definitely the flow would increase and as a result tempt pushes of fresh chrome in from the salt with the evening tide. It would also shake things up within the system and move fish around . On the other hand was the fact that the forecast remained in excess of 50mm or 2” per day for the remainder of our trip which had  us all a little concerned.

We had a late breakfast and made our way up the Forest Service road towards 9-mile bridge. The game plan was simple. We would hike the river looking for pods of fish and with any luck the bridge hole would be unoccupied upon our arrival and we could start our morning there. This run is very deep and from all my research consistently holds fish.

There was little to no reports I had read over the years without making reference to pulling fish from this location. The day of our arrival Red managed to convince 4 fish in the the limited time we spent on the river so I was confident the fish were stacked up in there.

Arriving at the bridge we were greeted by another 4-5 vehicles but were pleasantly surprised to find the hole vacant. Red opted for the boat ramp side where he had experienced his luck a few days prior and I dropped down on the East side while Scotty re-rigged his Bait-caster back at the Van. The rain continued to fall steady but the anticipation of the mornings first fish made it almost non apparent.

The first few drift with beads convinced no players. I experimented with depth trying to dial in on the now changed river elevation and flow but was anxious to try something different. It was obvious the river had come up 8-12 " since the previous day. I had tied up a bunch of sexy Marabou Jigs on 2x strong Mustad hooks and decided now was as good a time as any to validate my efforts.

I reached into my kit and pulled out a sexy purple and hot pink creation.  It was a Text book West Coast color scheme and seemed to fit the bill for this dark and deep water. I tied these jigs extra-large and long knowing these fish from the Salt are aggressive.   I like to pre-wet my jigs prior to any drifts to saturate the feathers and ensure that the marabou comes alive on the first drift. After doing so I made the throw slightly upstream and tight to the abutment.

There was a well defined seam that came off of the end of the abutment and ran the duration of the hole well into the tailout. This cast allowed my offering to follow that center line perfectly through the run and down into the tail out water. Once it hit the marginally slower section my float dropped and I set up hard. Instantly a giant chrome slab appeared deep in the dark abyss as if suspended in time. This was followed by three slow motion head shakes just prior to all hell breaking loose.

As soon as I witnessed the chrome flash  down in the depths I knew it was a giant fish.   It was my first of the morning and put my tired body to the test.   I was certainly glad I had decided to run a 12lb mainline and the 8lb flouro leads. These fish do not appear to be line shy and the shear size and power of the Saltwater Steelies is unrivaled by any great lakes chromers.

It actually takes them a little bit to realize they are hooked prior to the ensuing melee and pandemonium. The East side of the bridge doesn’t afford a lot of real estate to land these fish. There was only a small 2’x 2’ cove that actually allowed me any chance of swinging a fish onto the bank. With a 10-11’ lead below the float and the 13' GLX it was not going to be an easy task. 

 Every other option was negated by giant rocks  or overhanging spruce. Without a net I certainly had my work cut out for me. Nonetheless patience prevailed and after a multitude of attempts I managed to corral the giant hen into the cove and tail her. She was a magnificent fish. A prime Situk specimen and my first taken on a hand tied jig of my own creation. It was another great moment and certainly a highlight of this trip for me.

During my beaching attempts Scott had made his way to the river.  Luckily he was on hand for a few pics prior to her release. I removed the jig and filed it into my case for a keepsake. I selected another and continued working the run. I ran through a few more jig color schemes without any luck prior to reverting back to a 10 mm bead. This was when things started to get silly. For the next 6-8 hours we continued to turn fish regularly on beads.

Things would slow down only to be rekindled by a passing boat or Jet Sled. As soon as that happened we would be back into 2 or 3 more fish. For a while each fish seemed to surpass it's predecessor in size. I don't know how many times I told Scotty that I had just caught the largest Steelhead of my life only to surpass it and repeat the statement with the next fish. It never got old and the "money bead" was on fire.

 It took a little while to dial in on the colour and the depth but once reached the action was hot and heavy. The river was rising fast right under our noses and the rains still continued to fall.  We were drenched to the core!  It didn't matter because the river was teeming with giant Steelhead and they were cooperating. At one point Scotty hooked a giant fish that blast past him and up under the bridge towards the rapids.

 He clamped down on his drag and turned the fish but didn't readjust in time prior to his hook actually snapping off midway up the shank. I couldn't believe just how large and powerful these fish are. There were also a few fish that ran super hard and deep into the tailout on me. The guys laughed at my misfortune and dismissed the fish as gone but the GLX and the 12lb Maxima allowed me to clamp down and turn the giants.

 I lost track of how many fish the three of us had hooked but it was a silly number. More notable was the amount of giant fish we hooked and landed. Without a word of a lie I must have beaten my personal best 6-7 times over the course of the day. The days success was completely unexpected and a lot of fun.  Cetainly validation as to why we boarded the airplane in DTW.

Definitely one of those days I will be reminiscing about for many years to come.

And yet the rains continued to fall...

First Float...14 miles of Alaskan Wilderness

After a successful Halibut Charter the boys and I were getting very eager to float the Situk for Steelhead.  After all that was the entire reason we hopped on a series of planes and traveled across the continent.  Sunday afternoon’s brief adventure up to 9-Mile Bridge gave us a small taste and the lay of the land for launching the boat.  We got an initial glimpse of the river and were able to better put things into perspective for our upcoming float.  From what I had previously read online the river was supposed to be a non-technical flow.  There were no white-water sections, Rapids, gorges, or major elevation changes. 

For the most part all of my research indicated it was a low gradient gravel laiden flow we were in for a leisurely float through the Tongas National Forest.  After diner Monday evening an impromptu conversation broke out back at the Lodge with one of the Guides.  He had indicated that he was going to ride up to the launch with us in the morning to drop the drift boat in and then shuttle our van back to the take out at the end of Lost River road.  Naturally we had a few questions about what lay ahead of us for Tuesday morning. 

Tommy indicated there would be no major surprises aside from one particular bend in the river that would naturally draw you to the outside when in fact the passage was extremely tight and narrow on the inside.  He cautioned that if you get too far committed to the outside you would find yourself in a bit of a predicament.  We noted his warning and filed it in the memory bank for the next day.  We asked how long the float would take us and were informed that it all depended upon how long we fish and how many stops we made along the course of the river. 

Tommy then laughed and informed us that sometimes if clients are not back by darkness they drive a truck down to the pullout and leave the headlights on so they don’t drift past and into the estuary.  He then proceeded to inform us that the river is very low and we would most likely be slowed down excessively due to gravel bars and other unfamiliar obstacles. 

He cautioned us to expect a long day due to our unfamiliarity with the river.  Red and I both own Hyde Drift Boats.  We both know how to run these boats to a degree so we noted his warnings and figured it would be fairly uneventful.  We finished our drinks and made our way back to our cabin to settle in for the evening and prepare for the next day. 

Morning came quickly and we arrived at the main lodge for breakfast at 6:30 am.  There was a fresh blanket of snow that had fallen overnight and the guides were starting to deploy for the morning.  While we hastily ate our breakfast Tommy hooked up our drift boat to the van.  Our chariot for the day consisted of an older beat up 16’ Alumaweld drift boat.  It sat two comfortably across the bow and one on the oars.  It looked like it had seen better days but for the most part would fit the bill fine for our needs. 

We noted a spare oar and landing net in the bottom of the boat along with the 3” of snow from the night prior.  Soon we were racing down Forest Service road 10 towards 9-Mile Bridge and the launch.
The turn-around and parking lot at the launch site was rife with snow,ice, ruts and potholes but the ramp was clear so we dropped the boat in with little to no issue.  We loaded up our gear, beverage cooler and pack lunches and bid farewell to our lodge friends.  Soon we were floating down the river in pursuit of Situk River Steelhead.  In no time we were back out of the boat fishing our first piece of fishy water when Red proclaimed he had hooked up.  It was our first Dolly Varden of the trip. 

These fish are an anadromous salmonid and are found in the Situk along with Steelhead and some Rainbow trout.  In the fall these fish take on a Brook Trout/Arctic Char like appearance with brilliant colored bodies, spots, and fins.  In the spring they are bright chrome with less pronounced spotting and resemble shaker steelhead.   For the next hour or so we floated down river stopping at every piece of water that looked appealing trying to convince a willing Steelhead to hand.  Finally we found ourselves at a section of river that dumped quickly into a long narrow deep water run with some overhanging brush at the back end. 

Within seconds Scott had hooked up in the fast water on a bead and banked his first Steelhead ever.  It was a smaller winter Buck that put an ear to ear grin on his face.  After the photo session I set up below Scott and drifted the overhanging brush lower in the run.  Once under the brush my float dropped.  I set up but was certain it was a snag.  After a brief pause the rod came alive and much to my surprise a steelhead was on the other end.  The action was on and we found our first pod of the day.  Soon my first fish of the morning made the bank and was released after a few pics.  Not wanting to overstay our welcome we made a few more drifts and carried on our way. 

Until now much of the river had been featureless with little to no obstacles other than the occasional uneventful bend.  This was about to change as we entered into a tighter bend in the river with fallen trees and stumps.  Soon Red hooked up under some wood and we all had fish to our credit.  The further down river we floated the more wood and obstacles came before us.  What was appearing to be a non-technical river was becoming more and more technical as we found ourselves navigating through narrow cutouts in fallen and piled up Sitka Spruce log jams. 

Each spring after the forest road opens up and the boats can be launched the local guides float the river with chainsaws and open up passage ways in the new tree fall.  The river is forever changing and any major high-water events can rearrange the timber so many of the seasoned guides have a saw in the boat at all times.  We were getting well into the morning and hadn’t really covered many river miles.  The gravel bars were slowing us down and the unfamiliarity of the river and the safe passage  routes through the log jams had us on the oars more than expected. 

Red and I spelled each other off rowing but were beginning to feel the pains of our efforts.  We decided it was time for Scotty to get a crash course in boat rowing.  We came up on a long wide straightaway section.  Scott took the oars and we gave him some minor instruction.  He was doing fine and appeared to have things under control.  That’s when we let our guard down and once distracted by fishing learned the hazards of overhanging limbs.  We found ourselves on a crash course for a 3-4” 10' overhanging branch. 

Scott tried to redirect the boat away from the hazard but it was too late. I had no choice other than try and lift the branch over our heads as we floated underneath.  It was a giant “Fail” that almost resulted in a couple of busted rods and potential human injury.  Scott lost his confidence and was demoted back to Norland Drift boat operator Status…”Useless”  We laughed about it and shook it off  but not without some verbal jabbing. 

We continued on down the river but now had to start seriously rowing forward to make up time.  We were only a quarter of the way into the float and were starting to get concerned with our timing.  By now thoughts of blowing past the pullout in the dark were entering our heads. 

The river bends and log jams seemed to increase as we made our way further down and we found ourselves being increasingly more selective at where we stopped to fish. 

Red managed to remember Tommy's warning about the one dangerous spot on the river and we navigated it without issue.  We finally reached the forest service cabins and one of the lodge guides with his clients.  He informed us we had at least another 7-8 miles of river to manipulate and also indicated that the last couple of miles were frog water with a heavy rowing requirement to make the launch.  We had totally underestimated the undertaking and learned later it best to make a decision early on to fish the upper or lower river only for a day’s outing. 

It was a shame because the lower river seemed to hold more sexy lies and pods of fish.  We stopped and fished a few of them with great success but blew by so much sexy water it made my stomach sick.  It was getting late in the day and we were increasingly concerned about making the take out.  The mornings mild snowfall had quickly changed to rain mid-day and we were drenched.  The snow in the boat had long since melted and the added rain saw an increase in weight.  

We had an estimated 4 miles or so of river left.  I was on the oars rocking through some tight quarters on an inside bend of a log jam pile up.  We were just about to clear the narrows when the boat hit an underwater obstruction hard and came to an abrupt stop.  Red lost his balance and went over the bow into the river. 

He would have completely cleared the boat if the water would have been much deeper but managed to stop himself when his hand and rod made contact with the bottom.  At the same time his Ribs smashed against the rail of the boat. 

Scotty was quick on his feet and pull Red back and out of the cold river.  It had all happened so fast and could have been very serious if the water had been another foot or so deeper.  We laughed it off and carried along down river but Red was certainly feeling the effects of the days rowing and the incident.  He jammed his shoulder catching his balance on the bottom and banged his ribs at the same time.  It was certainly a lesson as to how quickly things can go south when you are out there in the remote wilderness. 

We made the rest of the float without incident.  The last couple of miles were indeed “Frog water” and I rowed the balance while Red nursed his aching bones.  As we navigated the last mile the smell of salt and roar of the ocean became apparent and warmed our spirits.  There was no greater feeling of relief than when we finally beached the boat at the pullout.  It was now 8pm and we had been on the river for 11 hours. 

We were cold, tired and drenched.  We managed to hook up with a dozen Steelhead and witnessed some amazing country.  Mere words would not describe the beauty of the Alaskan wilderness and the Tongass National Forest.  As promised our van and trailer were nicely parked up in the lot so we wasted no time pulling the boat and making our way back to the cabin.  

On the long ride back we laughed about the days events over a beverage and decided that Wednesday would be a peaceful walk and wade session up at the Bridge. 

And still the rains fell…