Fly-in Fishing Trip - and Bears!

Who in the world would turn down a FREE chance to fly in a float plane to a fertile salmon fishing area, and watch the bears and Bald Eagles at their best? Larry, that's who! Don't ask me why he didn't want to go, as I never figured it out, but thank goodness he did, as his loss was my gain. Larry is the male part of the other campground host couple, and it was their turn to try the fly-in fishing trip in exchange for recommending the Adventure Air tours to our guests at the ranch. Janet, his wife, first offered the trip to Ian and me, but we had little Ian to be concerned about and there wasn't a third seat available. So, it was decided that Janet and I would have a ladies' day out fishing! Neither of us had ever fished, so at first we thought we'd just watch the others, but our minds changed just about as quickly as the salmon were biting.

We had only an hour to get our snacks ready (can't go anywhere without snacks, you know), stop somewhere to get our fishing license, and get to the house where the business is run out of on a small lake not far from the ranch. We stopped at the Shell Gas Station down the road to get our fishing licenses, and had to laugh as it just seemed like such a macho thing to do. In my house, Ian does the catching, I do the eating, which in my opinion has always been a good trade-off. Up here you can get your fishing license just about anywhere - gas stations, Safeway grocery store, the hardward stores, Fred Meyers (Alaskan version of K-Mart), 7-11 type stores, you name it.

Anyway, we found the correct road, about 20 minutes from the ranch, then the house - a very nice, large log home with the business being run out of the walk-out basement which faced the lake. Several of the houses lining the lake had little airplanes docked at their yards, just like anyone in the lower 48 on a lake would have a boat. Our plane, an Otter, DHC-3 made by De Havilland of Canada, beautiful aircraft, very utile to say the least, P&W radial engine, Pratt and Whitney,(plane info provided by Mike the Mechanic, a.k.a, my older brother), was docked and waiting for us - it looked pretty small, but that only made the whole venture into an adventure. We met our fishing guide, Dave, and our pilot, Gary, as well as the three men joining us on the trip. Two of them, Mike and Mitch, were buddies from Michigan, and knew of Holly, where we used to live. One of them, Mike, was well over 6 feet tall and well built, not the best form for a small plane! Our third plane-mate was George, an old Air Force retiree, who was very talkative and quite funny until later when he downed a couple beers. Suddenly, four-letter words were floating out of his mouth, and his stories weren't so funny any more. But, I digress. Janet and I got in our little plane first and fell into the sling seat in back. The three men sat in front of us, very scrunched together, across three seats, each of which were only about 14 inches across. Ahead of them sat the pilot and fishing guide. To say Mike was scrunched in is an understatement. He had a good view of his feet the whole flight out.

You cannot imagine the thrill of seeing the water disappear beneath us as the plane picked up speed, then height. It was such a smooth and quick take off. Janet and I had huge windows to look out, so we had a great view of the lake disappear, then the Kenai River appear as well as Kalifornsky Beach Rd, on which the ranch is located. We headed west as lakes, houses, roads, and forested areas appeared, then slowly slid behind us. We flew by Kenai Airport and saw the lot where people in this area park/store their planes while here. The pilot told us that Alaska has more licensed pilots than any other state. He thinks also, but was not positive, that Alaska has more private plane owners than any other state, also. Here, they're called "bush planes and bush pilots" and are so plentiful because there are so few roads going anywhere other than connecting the larger towns. Most of Alaska is accessable only by air or sea.

Anyway, within minutes we were over the Cook Inlet, beautiful, yet due to the mist that morning, not near as bright and colorful as the day the two Ians and I took our short-lived flight. We did see some oil decks, though, which looked quite small from the air. I didn't realize they had them in this part of Alaska. Then, once again, we were over land, this time the Cook Inlet Flats. It looked like mud from the air, with puddles, streams and a couple rivers filled with water the color of milk. Gary said the color came from the silt in the water. The flats made way to what looked like jungle from where we were, 200-300 feet up. Then a large lake with a water fall off to the side. The pilot circled the lake, announcing this is where we would land. I found myself looking at the coast, wondering where the land was that he'd land on, then remembered we'd be landing on the water! It was a smooth as glass landing, so much easier than landing on land. No pressure on the ears, no gut wrenching as the floats slid onto the water's surface. "Wow, is this cool or what??" was muttered over and over by us all.

Waiting for us was a small aluninum boat, so the men unrolled their legs and necks in order to get out of the plane, Janet and I heaved out of the sling to step directly on the float, then the boat. After our bags of snacks, the fishing poles, and a large ice chest were loaded on the boat, we took off for a 10-minute ride across the mirror-like water. We passed the water fall that we had seen from above and learned that there are no salmon trying to get up it, as it is glacier run-off and is way too cold for them. The lake seemed to be longer than it was wide, so we had good views of the shore which seemed to drop off right into the water, with no beach to it. Probably was high tide. Eventually we approached Wolverine Creek where several other boats had already dropped anchor and had their poles in the water. Our guide, Dave, found our spot, dropped our anchor, sorted out the fishing poles which the men promptly started to cast. (Janet and I, knowing nothing about what we were expected to do, did nothing.) Ha, ha, though - Dave told the men to hold up, he had some 'splaining to do before they started fishing! He told us the rules of the water, the fact that if we felt we had something on our line we were to shout "Fish On!" and the rest of us had to reel in lines until the fish was in the boat. If, by chance, the fish got off the line before making it to the boat, the one holding the pole was to shout "Fish Off," and the rest of us could stop reeling in. Well, by this time Janet and I were looking at each other with the same thoughts going through our heads - "Huh? What's he talking about? We don't even know how to get the line in the water, let alone get a fish on it!" At one point Dave said we'd be using fly rods, which I took to mean we'd be fly-fishing. "Oh, I've always wanted to learn to fly fish!" I said, all excited now. "Yeah, me too!" Janet said. Dave looked at us like the couple of dim-wits we were and said no, we weren't fly-fishing, but using fly rods. (Heck, doesn't it make sense that if you're using fly rods you'd be fly fishing?) Anyway, we never did find out why they're called fly rods, as we were too embarrased to ask, but they had reels on them, which I don't think fly-fishing rods have.

Anyway, the men threw their lines out and started catching salmon almost immediately. Meanwhile, Janet and I struggled to get the hang of Dave's instructions. He showed us how to move the little lever on the reel into one position, then reach the pole behind our shoulders, then flick the rod in front, allowing the line to fly out into the air, hopefully ahead of us. (Dave previously had passed out sunglasses that we had to wear to prevent hooks ending up in our eyes from novices such as Janet and me.) Anyway, as soon as the hook hit the water, we were to flick the little lever back in the other direction to keep the line from extending any further. Yeah, right. Much easier said than done. Eventually, we got the hang of it - that is, until we thought we did and didn't pay enough attention, forgot to flick the lever back to stop the line from going out, and ended up with a tangled mess. Dave was always there to untangle our lines and patiently tell us to throw the line out again. Soon, Janet finally got her line in the water, and after a couple tries, I did, too. At one point, Dave was 'splainin' to me why my line wasn't going out as far as everyone else's, when a movement behind him caught my eye. I couldn't help but turn my attention to the shore, ignoring Dave, shouted "Bear!" and pointed to the shore. Of course, then everyone's attention was on the black bear wandering from the side of the mountain down to the creek. We watched as he waded into the running water, wandered around a bit while sticking his furry face into the water, swatting with a huge, black paw, then finally bringing his face up with a nice sized salmon laying horizontally in his mouth. He non-chalantly carried it back to shore, lumbered a ways up the mountain, then found a place to settle down with his lunch. He glanced up occasionally while he munched, probably thanking the heavens for his easily caught sushi.

The men were catching salmon one after another. Dave even warned them that three was their limit, so they may want to put the smaller ones back. Also, if they snagged any, it was illegal to keep them. They had to be put back in while still alive. Janet finally got one on her line, and shouted the requisit "Fish On!" I was so excited for her, but it was funny we didn't hear a peep out of the men. I'm sure they were hoping she and I wouldn't catch any, then they could catch our limit for themselves. That's not what we had in mind, though. She reeled in a good sized one, I took several pictures of her holding it before Dave put in in the bag marked "women." Each of the men had a seperate bag for their fish - I don't know why Dave put ours together, as it later worked against me. He probably figured we wouldn't catch our limit, either, but oh, was he sorely mistaken!

Suddenly, more bears were appearing. It obviously was lunch time. A brown bear with three cubs (yes, triplets!) wandered into the water. The cubs were cautious about dipping their paws in the cold stream, and their mom made several trips back and forth, showing them it was OK. About the time all three finally worked up the courage to enter the water, Mama bear let out a loud, blood-curdling roar. "What in the world?" I commented, as she rushed them, pushing them out of the water and up into the bushes. Dave said she either saw or heard something that she's teaching her babies to fear. Sure enough, within moments a large black bear emerged from the other side of the stream and made his way into the water, looking for his meal. I had thought the brown bears were more fierce than the black bears, so that surprised me, but Dave said when the brown bears have cubs with them, they will retreat, knowing the black bear could easily grab one while she is dealing with the others. Cannibalism survives in the wild!

Finally, I felt a pull on my line! No, could it be? Since I didn't know how it was supposed to feel, I didn't yell "Fish On," but just said "I think I have something, but I'm not sure." Dave said to start reeling it in slowly, and within moments I could see my fish. Wow, I did it! When I got him up to the boat, Mitch had his net ready, caught him in it, and whacked him in the head with a club he had made himself out of some willow. That stopped the fish's fight, and I felt bad for him just long enough to apologize, but got over it quick enough to have Janet take my picture holding him. I felt energized and realized I could really do this after all.

Every now and then, swarms of salmon swam past the boat and we all tried to get our lines in the middle of them. They didn't seem to take the bait, though, I guess they thought they were on their way somewhere important. Closer to shore, clusters of salmon flapped the water, causing it too look like a feeding frenzy. It was interesting that most of them were not orange, but more of a gray color. According to Dave, they get more orange the closer they are to spawning, and eventual death. Both brown and black bears continued to enter the stream, catch a salmon and retreat with it in their mouths. Some ate the fish as soon as they found a dry spot on shore, while others disappeared into the bushes with them, only to return to catch another fish and disappear with it. We wondered if maybe they were taking the fish to their den where they might have cubs waiting to be fed.

While Janet, the men and I were involved with catching our limit of salmon, and the bears were involved with getting their limit also, Bald Eagles and sea gulls overhead put on quite a show of their own. The gulls were usually chasing the Eagles, who were after their nests. Sometimes the Eagles were just hanging out, soaring, enjoying the air on a lazy afternoon (in actuality, they were probably looking for an unprotected gull's nest). One of the brown bears wandered around the shore to within feet of one of the other fishing boats - their guide had to move the boat, as the bear, if he so decided, could easily have made a dash for the boat. Lots of good eatin' there!

Janet caught another fish, one that had a gash on its side. Dave said a bear probably had pawed at it before it got away. She chose to keep the fish and proceeded to catch yet another one. I was starting to feel rejected by the salmon again since it had been a while since I caught my one and only, yet all the men and Janet were at their limits. Janet proceeded to catch a fourth fish, and shortly after Dave put it in our bag, I finally landed my second. After Janet took pictures of me and my prize, Dave said I could keep fishing but would have to throw back any I caught since between Janet and I, we had our limit of six now. I still don't know why he let her keep four when he knew I wasn't at my limit yet, but also figured, what's the point of fishing if I can't keep it? There's no sense in hurting the poor fish for no reason, so I put my pole down and from that point on sat back and enjoyed the continuous show put on by Mother nature.

Finally, Dave announced it was time to put up the poles and head back to where the plane would pick us up. Everyone was feeling good, everyone agreed it was one of the great days of our lives, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. What an opportunity we had to witness God's creation at its best.

The boat sped through the lake while we spotted more bears meandering along the shoreline and up on animal-made mountain trails. The Bald Eagles followed us in hopes of us taking pity on them and offering some salmon, which we did not do. Soon we spied our Otter, DHC-3 made by De Havilland of Canada, beautiful aircraft, very utile to say the least, P&W radial engine, Pratt and Whitney, sitting next to the shore, awaiting its crew and passengers. Janet and I had agreed to let Mike and George sit in the sling seat in back, so they got in first, then we huddled in the small horizontal seat with Mitch. Once we were settled and strapped in, Janet and I realized how hard it was to see out of the windows, as our heads were higher than they were. The sling seat in back really was the best seat in the house. Anyway, as we flew over the flats once again, Gary the pilot, pointed out groups of bears down below. Six black, several browns, two brown bears that ran down the river when they saw us overhead. Further on, more pockets of bears in the flats - we hadn't seen them there on the way in, but it was now about 6:30 pm, so they must have been looking for dinner.

We retraced our steps over the town of Kenai, the Kenai River, the airport, then finally circled the lake where we would land. As we got closer, though, Gary saw that someone was water-skiing (in a wet suit), so he buzzed the guy in warning, circled the lake, then was able to land after the ski boat and skiier went to the side of the lake. Another flawless landing, and before we knew it we were back where we started from. What a day. I've since tried to sum up the whole day, as it was such a surreal experience. What I've written here cannot come near to relating the true experience. What keeps coming to mind is that it felt like I was in a snow globe, completely surrounded by nature going about it's business as usual, not realizing I was there, watching it all, melding into it. The bears, the Eagles, the salmon, it was all like a movie. Once again, I've seen Alaska and Mother Nature at it best. Oh, and I didn't even tell you what the snow capped mountains looked like from up there! Don't get me started!