An Alaska Adventure--Tuesday (Part II): The Bears of American Creek

Rick and Tom flew with Jose to American Creek for a chance at some big rainbows and arctic char and, of course, lots of grizzly bears.  American Creek had been an astounding fishery, but it hadn’t had nearly as many rainbows in recent years.  Our last visit we caught mostly char and no size at all (which in Alaska means a Washington trophy). However, this year had reportedly seen an increase in rainbows and in size, so it was with eagerness that they returned.

As the float plane approached and landed on the small river, it was hard to tell if the river was muddy in the orange light filtering through the early morning clouds. The edges looked clear, while the middle looked off color. We found both to be true. In the slower water near the lake where the plane landed, the water at the edge was clear for a few feet but became off color in the middle where the current was flowing. The plane had left, so we were stuck here for the day to make the best of it.

We ran upriver about as far as you could go with the small outboard, noting with concern the limited visibility of about 12 to 18 inches and the significantly higher water level from Jose’s last visit. We passed a half dozen brown bears on the way up, a regular occurrence on this river, but were all by ourselves where we stopped. There were dead sockeye everywhere, layered a foot deep in the back waters and hundreds of eggs swirling on the bottom in the eddies. 

It's this food source that helps these fish get so big. Although the visibility wasn’t great, we were hopeful, as the stream wasn’t completely blown. That hope was quickly rewarded when Tom, after missing one in the hole upstream, hooked into a good fish just above the root ball of a fallen tree and a mess of woody debris. With Tom’s mad skills and the assistance of Jose, this 28-inch rainbow was netted, a great start to the day!

Keeping it out of the root wad!

Rainbow reward

 However, the great start didn’t continue as much as we would have liked. We hiked and fished about a mile upriver, and ran into a few fish (Rick had a 26-incher to the net and a smaller one in the net), a moose, and a bear (safely downriver). It wasn’t until we turned around a came back to where we started that things got interesting.

Rick's rainbow

Meandering moose

Biting bear

Tom quickly caught another nice rainbow,   then hooked and landed a char that had seriously been pigging out!   Rick finally got the right drift where Tom and picked up his last rainbow and got this nice ‘bow and three others in quick succession.

Things slowed down in the honey hole, so Rick moved downstream to a nice run we hadn’t yet fished. He returned to the boat after breaking off to get a new bead from Jose, then headed back down. While looking for rainbows behind the sockeye still spawning, he heard a big splash and looked to the right to see the hind end of a huge bear that had just climbed up on the grassy bank about 30 to 40 ft away. Rick retreated upriver (not running, and surprisingly without his heart racing at all) as the bear carefully watched him from the bank. Rick stopped a “safe” distance away on the other side of the river and got out his camera while the bear climbed back in and continued fishing, still turning occasionally to keep his eye on Rick. What an amazing sight!

Zoom in to see where the eyes are looking.

Based on the size of the fish, American Creek is back. It was a good day, and if the water had been clear, was almost certain to have been epic.

After we all returned home, we once again were casting for coho in the river below the lodge. Shan was the only one to connect and he was much more careful in where he put the salmon after he bonked them.  “The river giveth and the river taketh away.”  We then headed to the lodge for a wonderful dinner.

An Alaska Adventure--Tuesday (Part I): The Bears of Featherly Creek

Rob and Shan flew with our guide Heidi in a Cessna float plane to Featherly Creek, a tributary to Becharof Lake, a 37-mile lake that is second largest in Alaska and eighth largest (by volume) in the United States. We were in search of Arctic Char and Grayling—Rob had fished here five years ago.  We encountered low clouds so were unable to

As the plane left us on the beach for our hike into Featherly, we noted with some concern a series of rather large bear footprints.  They measured 10” wide x 14”long, which Heidi informed us would mean they belonged to a 10-foot brown bear (grizzly).  There were also wolf tracks along the beach. 

A sizable bear paw-print on our arrival beach

To our surprise, our pathway to the river coincided with the large bear tracks, headed the same direction as us and the size was somewhat unnerving, despite all we’ve been told over the years of visiting Bear Trail Lodge that they are “good bears”.

Shan with a representative grayling

Once on the river, we were quickly into char and eventually found some grayling. The grayling were the largest I’d ever caught and ranged from 18-22”.

Rob found a grayling too!

Fishing beads below an indicator we spent the entire morning fishing about 400 yards downstream from our entry point.  We were briefly visited upstream by an Alaska brown bear, not the one with large paws, and were happy when he decided to just fish where he was rather than getting a closer look at us. 

Guide Heidi showing us hot to hold one of our grayline

After a brief lunch break, we headed upstream of our entry point and again were busy with an assortment of char and grayling.  

Rob with a beautiful Arctic Char

When time arrived to head back to the lake for our pickup, we sadly bid farewell to Featherly Creek.  A great day of fishing!

An Alaska Adventure--Monday Arrival

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The Alaska Adventure began as Rob, Rick, Tom, and Shan Sedgewick (mostly adopted Merrill boy) departed Wenatchee early Labor Day for the flights to get us to Bear Trail Lodge.  Wenatchee-Seattle-Anchorage-King Salmon.  We were met at the King Salmon airport by Sedrick and immediately upon arrival and check-in at the lodge, we rigged up the fly rods and headed down to the mouth of King Salmon creek to see if we could find any silver salmon.

Tom got there first and Shan was close behind.  Shan didn’t want to crowd Tom so began fishing about a hundred yards downstream.  Rick arrived next and since Tom was getting some strikes, he plopped in about 50 feet below Tom and started casting.  Rob was the last to arrive and seeing that both Tom and Rick were getting strikes, he plopped himself into the stream between them.  Shan later remarked, “I didn’t want to crowd him, but I see that with the Merrill boys, it’s more about catching fish together than much else.” 

Shan had the most success, landing two silvers.  After bonking them and putting them on the rocks up on the riverbank, he continued fishing.  He had some difficulty trying to determine where he had been standing—it seemed deeper and the landmarks weren’t quite right.  After a little more casting he looked back to the shore to get his bearings just in time to see salmon number two slipping into the water and floating away from the rocks.  Seems the Merrill Boys forgot to tell him the little detail about the tide coming in really fast—about a three-foot rise in a half hour.  That would explain why the landmarks didn’t seem right when he waded out to resume fishing. He quickly retrieved the floating salmon but the other, sadly, was nowhere to be found.

            

Rob's first silver salmon

Rob found one silver as he cast from the dock as the river rose.  Two (net) fish before dinner—a good start to our trip.  Dinner was great but the rain was pounding and the tide was way too high to wade and fish so our pre-dinner casts were all we got on Labor Day.

Backcountry Beauty

Last week I went backpacking with my best friend, Scott, up into the Mad River drainage between the Entiat Valley and Lake Wenatchee.  I've been there a couple of times before with scouts and this time was decidedly more quiet than when I've been with scouts.  Go figure.

We headed up from the Chiwawa Valley to Maverick Saddle and the trail to the upper Mad River.  The road to Maverick Saddle was better than I remembered and later found out they'd taken a blade to it when a fire was burning in the area.  The final 1/4 mile of the road to the trailhead had been washed out a few years back so we parked short and hiked that as well.  Very passable on foot.

We were about nine miles from Mad Lake, our destination, and this is a multi-use trail.  We had five motorcyclists pass us heading in and two heading out.  We arrived at Mad Lake mid-afternoon and established camp.  A forest service work crew was camped there as well.

Our campsite at Mad Lake

A Mad Lake cutthroat trout

When the work crew returned from their bridge building, I saw all five of them at the lake and they were catching a few fish.  I decided since camp was set up and we weren't ready to eat dinner yet, I should, of course, rig up the rod and see how the fish like my fly this time.

A rather large yellow Stimulator was what was already on my 1wt flyline in the reel, so I figured that could be a good place to start.  As soon as it hit the water, a fish jumped completely out of the water and came down on the fly.  I set too soon and pulled it away before it had the fly. I immediately put the fly back and had that airborne flying fish as a repeat and again pulled it away before he had it.  Third time and I again set too soon.  (I could hear the voice of my brothers in my head, "Farmer!")  Back on the water a fourth time and this time I waited and then strip set.  The result is in the photo above--a nice high-country cutthroat trout.  Since the trail crew was nearby, one of them was kind enough to take the photo for me.

Lots of fish very interested in the fly and lots to hand.  Lots of trail crew interested in the fly and "where can I get one of those" comments.  Enjoyed casting until dinner.

The following day we hiked up to the lookout at Klone Peak to view Glacier Peak and points north, then on to the Tommy Creek (Entiat) drainage and Two Little Lakes.  We traveled another 8 miles today.  We stayed at Lake Louise, one of the two lakes, and I hiked back a short distance to where I'd seem some fish in Tommy Creek as we were hiking past.  A dozen nice cutthroats in a short time made that another successful body of water.

We saw a backcountry ranger at Lake Louise when we arrived but encountered nobody on the trails we were hiking today.  The ranger left shortly after we arrived and went by motorcycle to patrol other trails in this area before he headed home.

Our campsite at Lake Louise

 After breakfast we started our hike home.  We had eight miles of trail back to Scott's car.  Heather and her family have come to visit and I want to get home to see them.  We passed a man on horseback with three packhorses in tow and just before we got to the trailhead, another two motorcyclists were heading up the Mad River trail.  Relative solitude for most of our trip.  Quiet.  Fish.  Friendship.  A great "final hike" of summer.

Dads and Sons

Coming to Utah means what?  Fishing, of course!  My son-in-law, Brad, graduates this weekend in Provo so we all came down a day early so we'd be there Thursday, when my son, Brian, doesn't have class during summer term at BYU.  Brad's dad, Jeff, came up from Gilroy for fishing too.  His wife thinks they came for Brad's graduation, but we all know the real reason he's here.

After breakfast we headed up to Logan with Franklin Basin as our destination.  As we crossed through Sardine Canyon we noted that it was exceptionally green for August.  Brian said that May and June were quite cold and wet and it finally started to heat up in July.  Interesting.  The same was evident as we climbed Logan Canyon en route to Franklin Basin.

I've never seen Franklin Basin so green.  I wondered what that might mean for fishing.  As we approached the water I was struck by the absence of active insect life.  Very still.  Water flowing considerably higher than I'd seen in previous August visits.  As I stepped in the stream and took the first few casts my feet sensed that the water was colder than normal.  Dipping the thermometer it showed the water temp was 44 degrees. I think we were fishing in spring, rather than summer conditions.

Cast, cast, cast and not a thing moving.  I was fishing with Jeff and Brian & Brad got in the stream a few hundred yards above us.  Plan was for 90 minutes, then switch partners.  Finally found a fish as Jeff and I alternated "first cast" at each pool.  He was fishing a gray bodied parachute hopper and I used, you guessed it, a Renegade.  After 90 minutes, I'd hooked one and seen two other fish, so we met the boys, found that Brian had landed two and Brad one, and decided to head down to the main Logan to see if water temps were higher and fish more active.

Franklin Basin cutthroat

We drove to the USU Forest Research station section of the river.  Water temps were 50 degrees, so that was an improvement.  We again split and had fished about 75 feet of stream when it started raining.  Clouds were appearing darker so I told Jeff, "I think it's going to rain harder.  I'm going to the van."  Moments after we entered the van, the skies opened up and it really started raining hard.  By the time Brian and Brad got back they were soaked.  No fish there.

Raining, dark skies, fish not cooperating.  What were we to do?  Head to Smithfield to see if Summit Creek looked better and stop by my dad's grave site (with a stop at the USU Creamery on the way!)  I hadn't seen the marker Mom had installed.  Marker looked great so we felt Dad would love us to take a photo there with son and grandson in waders and with fly rods.

As we headed up Summit Creek it was clear and low and it wasn't raining, but the pavement was wet.  By the time we got upstream to where we could fish, it was running higher, cloudy, and lots of foam was coming downstream.  Obviously it had rained hard up the canyon.  No fishing there.

Father-Son @ Grandpa's shrine, er marker

After a stop at Gossner's Cheese Factory for some milk, cheese, curds, and other goodies we were warmed by the welcome rays of the sun.  It looked like the sky was also clearing up Logan Canyon so we headed back up the the Forestry Station for another go of it.  Fish were awake, sun on my back was preferred over the raindrops of early afternoon, lots of insects along and over the stream, fish sipping insects on the water surface, and we were able to finish our fishing on a positive note before heading back to Provo.

Brian in mainstem Logan