A Sweet 16 Of Alaska Adventures, With Another One Approaching

The following appears in the September issue of Alaska Sporting Journal:

BY BRIAN KELLY

My 17th trip to Alaska has been booked. It feels crazy to even write that, as the memory of that first hike down a thick, brushy trail along the Little Susitna River is still fresh in my mind.

I have so many great memories along the way – the places, the people and, of course, those wonderful fish. Having caught all five Pacific salmon species – from sea-lice-laden chromers to fire-engine-red spawners and every shade of blush in between – I paused to wonder how many more trips and casts I have left.

While I am in my early 50s and in relatively “decent” shape, an ordeal with prostate cancer last year seemed to bring out the emotions of all the past trips and what I can look forward to with the time I have remaining.

While I have a clean bill of health, the sins of my youth are catching up to me. It’s amazing how we take every cast for granted when we’re young, but we start to savor every cast as we age, as we never know when or where that last cast will occur. It’s not like a retiring sports star who takes a last shift on the ice or throws a final pass to a great deal of fanfare. For a fish bum, the shoulders, knees and back eventually wear out and the days of casting are done. But until that dreaded time comes, the next trip awaits, and thoughts of the next year’s trip are already crossing my mind.

“DO YOU SEE BEARS?”

That is the first question I get when I meet someone and tell them I go to Alaska every year. My long-time fishing partner, Jim Stepulkoski, when asked that very question, used to tease, “There’s a bear behind every tree in Alaska!” My early trips were all in bear country and, yes, my head was on a swivel and I was wary of Boo-Boo hiding behind the tree around the next river bend, just waiting to get me!

My first interaction with bears in Alaska was on the famous Russian River. Jim loved to fish the red run every year and we made the trek down there on my first trip. We hiked down the steps at the Grayling parking lot, and in the first pool, there they were! Three young grizzly bears were in the middle of the river; two of them were playing like small children in a swimming pool. They splashed and swatted each other on that warm August afternoon without a care in the world. The third bear seemed annoyed by his partners’ antics, as he was hell bent to get a fresh red and start chowing down.

After watching these youngsters for a while, we decided to head downriver and see what awaited at the confluence, where the Russian flows into the Kenai. Our hike was briefly interrupted by a sow with cubs across the river. Fortunately, they stayed put on that side and eventually went back into the bush and onto greener pastures.

We ended up spending a few days in Cooper Landing, as the tail end of the sockeye run was in full swing and a few silvers were in the mix as well. As we hiked back down the next morning, here were fresh, wet bear tracks on the raised wooden platform along the Russian. Nothing wakes one from an early-morning haze quite like that.

FORTUNATELY, WE NEVER RAN into that bear, but we had a close encounter later that morning. We had set up on the bottom end of the Russian, just above the confluence. This was a weekday; there was no one around a pod of fresh reds and silvers that were eager to play. After we each landed a few fish, we heard some commotion from around the bend and, sure enough, here he came! A young grizzly was walking along the banks of the Kenai, looking for a meal. The few anglers who were lined up in that section were yelling at the bear and he just kept slinking along, like a dog that was scolded by its owner. I couldn’t see him, but Jim could and waved me over to the other side of the river. The bear didn’t seem to mind us; we just did the usual Alaskan angler bear tactic of shouting “Hey bear!” repeatedly as he sauntered on by. We then resumed our cast-and-drift routine until we heard loud splashing coming from upstream.

There he was again – this time chasing all the blush reds on gravel, resembling a dog chasing the neighbor’s cat! At one point, he seemed to forget we were even there as he chased a pod of salmon to within 50 feet, at which our “Hey bear!” got loud enough to get his attention. He stood up, looked at us and then caught a glimpse of a school of reds racing upriver behind him and off he went; back to fishing. I never felt any fear at all during the entire experience; we just remained calm and took it all in.

THE ONLY NERVE-RACKING EXPERIENCE I had during any of my trips wasn’t with a bear, but rather a cow moose. Jim and I had gotten the bite dialed in on the beautiful bend hole downstream from the Burma Landing boat ramp on the Little Su River.

We would hike in there with headlamps blazing in the predawn darkness because the first light bite had been exceptional that week. I wouldn’t say we were nonchalant, but we hadn’t run across any bears or bear sign along the river to this point in the trip. The hike became more of a race to get to the hole rather than stopping to look for bears that didn’t exist.

It had only taken less than an hour for us to get one fish away from our daily limit when suddenly, the brush behind us was stirred up by something coming our way, and in a bit of a hurry. We dropped our rods and stood back.

Jim was armed with his .44 Mag Super Redhawk and I with my trusty can of bear spray. I was shaking like a leaf and fumbling to get the top off the bear spray so I could thwart the oncoming intruder. But much to our surprise, it wasn’t an angry bear but a cow moose that looked a bit annoyed by the two

humans pointing and yelling at her. She never stopped and walked right into the river in front of us. Across the way, two moose calves popped out of the bush to greet their mother. She did stop midriver to look back at us, then kept on going to be with her young.

YOU MEET SOME INTERESTING folks while wearing waders in Alaska. During my dreaded Covid trip of 2020 to Juneau, my long-time steelheading partner from Michigan, Eric Greiner, and I met a smiling Texan while casting one afternoon. Hunter Drozd had the opportunity to work remotely during this time and chose to do so in Juneau. He picked one hell of a place to land.

While the state’s capital isn’t thought of as a highly sought-after fishing destination, it does have one hell of a good hatchery salmon run for kings, chums and silvers thanks to the efforts of the fine folks at the Douglas Island Pink and Chum Inc. hatchery. I stumbled into this place after the Cook Inlet fisheries started to nosedive, and I always wanted to visit Juneau again after a work trip in 2007 first brought me to town.

After a scouting trip in 2016, I fell in love with the place and now visit on an annual basis. Eric and I had the bite dialed in after a couple of days and the freezer was filling quickly. Our friends on Douglas Island hadn’t been out much, so we decided to fish the outgoing afternoon tide with the purpose of bonking a grill-worthy silver for them.

As we walked out to our favorite gravel bar, we ran into Hunter, who we had chatted up on a previous outing. I stepped in the water, fired a cast and hooked a silver, to which Hunter infamously proclaimed, “Damn, you must be Coho Daddy!” And a nickname was born!

We went to the local watering hole that evening and the three of us have been friends ever since. Last year, poor Hunter decided to bring a sizable portion of his relatives on this annual excursion, and he was left to play “guide” for his parents, aunts and uncles, all of whom are wonderful people, but they do require a bit of assistance on the water.

After an amazing bite on the incoming tide, we set up our cleaning table and got to work. We weren’t too far into the process when Hunter set down his knife and started to charge out to the rapidly disappearing gravel bar, shouting, “I gotta get my mom.”

Apparently, Jeri “Momma Tex” was so focused on getting that last fish for her limit that she neglected to pay attention to the conditions around her with the incoming tide. Jeri swore up and down that Hunter was coming out to save her string of silvers, but we all know better!

BUT BY FAR, THE best Alaska trip was the one with the lightest fish box and the biggest memories to date. I was long overdue in getting my wife Anne to Alaska. She had put up with my trips for years and it was time for her to see what all the excitement was about. And, per usual, Alaska didn’t disappoint. Seals, sea lions, orcas, humpbacks, halibut and the Hole in the Wall Bar on the solstice. Oh, and the bear at the hatchery. We checked so many boxes that week.

Juneau is next on our list together. I want to take the chopper ride up on Mendenhall Glacier, but only with her. After what we have gone through together, I am so amazingly blessed to have her in my life and can’t wait to experience more of what that greatest chunk of planet Earth has to offer.

Thank you, Alaska, for what you have shown to this point, I am looking forward to more incredible adventures. ASJ