For The Troops: Annual Combat Fishing Tournament Set For May 21 For Alaska Service Members

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

BY TIFFANY HERRINGTON

At first light in the Alaska port of Seward, the harbor buzzes with anticipation. Dozens of boats line the docks. The air smells of salt and diesel. Young service members, some still rubbing sleep from their eyes, step off buses in borrowed rubber boots and weatherproof jackets. They laugh nervously, sip coffee and pose for group photos under the gray dawn. Then, with a sharp blast of a horn, they’re off. It’s go-time for the Armed Services Combat Fishing Tournament.

Held each year on the Wednesday before Memorial Day, the tournament is the largest military appreciation fishing event in the country. What started in 2007 as a simple idea between two friends – Captain Bob Candopoulos and Keith Manternach – has become a beloved tradition. Each year, more than 200 junior enlisted service members are treated to an all-expenses-paid day of halibut fishing in Alaskan waters, complete with gear, guides, awards and enough fish to feed a squadron.

FOUNDERS BEHIND THE MISSION

To understand the heart of the Combat Fishing Tournament, you have to understand its founders. Candopoulos came to Alaska in 1980 and began his maritime career working on commercial halibut boats. But it wasn’t long before he shifted to charter fishing, a career he’s now been in for more than 37 years. As owner of Saltwater Safari Company (907-224- 5323; saltwatersafari.com), Candopoulos became known for pioneering long-range fishing trips out of Seward, opening up new frontiers for anglers eager to chase halibut, lingcod and even salmon sharks.

“I liked being out on the water, sure,” he says, “but what really stuck with me was the people. I liked showing folks something they’d never forget.”

That guiding philosophy made Candopoulos a natural host for the military members who would eventually take part in his tournament.

Manternach, meanwhile, brought the idea to life from the other side of the dock. A local businessman, outdoorsman and son of a veteran, Manternach had spent years fishing with Candopoulos. He wasn’t looking for recognition. He just wanted to give back.

“My dad served. I never did,” Manternach says. “But I always felt like I owed something. These junior enlisted folks – most of them can’t afford a charter. They’re young, far from home and Alaska can be isolating. This tournament is a way to say, ‘We see you. We appreciate you.’”

It’s not just lip service. For nearly two decades, Manternach has helped coordinate transportation, logistics and sponsorship – right down to getting state troopers to escort busloads of soldiers down the highway to Seward.

“That first year we didn’t even know if we’d be allowed to do it,” he laughs. “Now, we’ve got captains knocking on our doors to be included.”

A PIANO BAR AND A QUIET SPARK

Candopoulos and Manternach’s idea wasn’t born in an office or boardroom. It came together in Reno, Nevada, after a heated encounter in a casino piano bar. “Someone paid to stop ‘Proud to Be an American’ midsong,” Candopoulos recalls. “The place erupted.”

Security cleared the room. Outside, cooling off over beers, the two men agreed they wanted to do something substantial for the young men and women who serve. “When we get back to Alaska,” Candopoulos said at the time, “I’m taking some soldiers fishing. You can be my deckhand.” Manternach was in.

Their idea ran into immediate hurdles. Military regulations prevented civilians from donating services directly to service members. “I was ready to take 64 people out on my two boats over two days,” Candopoulos says. “They told me no. Said I needed to be a nonprofit.”

That’s when Mari Jo Imig from the Armed Services YMCA entered the picture. “She said, ‘Let’s make it a tournament,’” Candopoulos recalls. “I didn’t know how to run a tournament, but she did. And we were off.”

The first year, 66 junior enlisted service members participated. There were awards, a small banquet and a new sense of purpose. “Once the other charter guys saw what we were doing, they were all in,” Manternach says.

MORE THAN A CATCH

Today, the tournament still carries that original spirit – one of appreciation, camaraderie and saltwater therapy. Captains from nearly every charter operation in Seward donate their boats and time. Local volunteers hand out breakfast burritos at 5 a.m. and hot meals at the closing banquet. And the fishing? It’s world-class action.

“Whatever they catch, they keep,” says Sarah Riffer, executive director of the Armed Services YMCA of Alaska. “Captain Jack’s Seafood Locker processes it all, then we truck it to Anchorage and fly it to service members stationed across Alaska. Sometimes we even fly it to remote (United States) Coast Guard stations.”

Every fish caught is bled, fileted and flash-frozen. It’s a full-circle moment for the anglers, many of whom have never held a fishing rod, let alone landed a 40-pound halibut.

Riffer adds, “We hold pickup events at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, Fort Wainwright and Eielson AFB. Even remote stations get their fish.”

It’s not just about the fish, though. “There’s a psychological benefit to being seen, to being treated,” she says. “This is about connection.”

At the end of the day, the American Legion hosts an awards banquet. There are prizes for first, second and third biggest fish. There’s even an award for smallest catch, plus the infamous “biggest chummer,” earned by the greenest stomach on the water.

The banquet is lively, heartfelt and often hilarious. Captains share stories from the day. Service members swap sea tales over ribs and reindeer sausage. “There’s a guy every year who shows up in shorts and flip-flops, even though we tell them not to,” Riffer laughs. “We hand him boots and socks and hope for the best.”

BUILDING BONDS ON, OFF THE WATER

Flight engineer Alex Doty remembers his first tournament vividly. “I’d never been deep sea fishing before. My wife found out about it and signed me up,” he says. “That first halibut took me half an hour to reel in; it was heavy. But it was awesome.”

What stuck with him wasn’t just the fishing, but the bonding. “We were just a bunch of guys from my squadron on a boat together. Nothing to do but fish and talk. It brought us closer.”

Afterward, Doty turned his catch into a block party with his neighbors. “Most of them had never had halibut before. We had a crawdad boil, grilled the fish; it brought everyone together.”

He went back four more times and became a tournament ambassador. “Every year, I’d run around the squadron telling everyone to sign up. It’s more than a trip; it gives you a sense of community.”

Indeed, for many, the tournament is about more than fishing. It’s a moment of reprieve in a high-stress environment. “It gives them space to breathe,” Riffer says. “To just be a guy or a gal with a rod and a boat and a horizon.”

A LEGACY OF SERVICE

Captain Bob Candopoulos’s inspiration came from his father, a World War II prisoner of war. “He spent three and a half years in a German camp,” Candopoulos says. “He came home through a prisoner exchange program, 6 feet, 3 inches and 140 pounds. He didn’t talk much about it, but I always wanted to do something for guys like him.”

Candopoulos has since guided thousands of anglers, but he says the tournament is the best thing he’s ever done. One year, four Army Rangers handed him a folded flag. “They told me it flew over their base in Iraq. Some of their brothers didn’t make it home. They wanted me to have it.” He pauses. “I still have it. It’s one of my most treasured possessions.”

Manternach remembers a moment on a bus headed down to Seward. A young soldier leaned over and asked, “Is somebody important on board?” He replied, “Yeah; all 300 of you.”

Riffer has had her own moments too – and often small, quiet ones. “One young woman told me, ‘No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.’ That stuck with me.”

ANCHORED IN GRATITUDE

Despite its size, the tournament remains intimate. There’s no corporate gloss. Every dollar, every fish, every volunteer hour is given with heart. “It costs $65,000 to $70,000 a year,” Riffer says. “One donor in Ohio sends us $100 every year with a note saying, ‘Sorry it’s not more.’ That’s the soul of this tournament.”

Volunteers, charter captains and local businesses pour their support into the event. “Even Senator (Dan) Sullivan helped pass a law so we could legally take these kids fishing on a nonrevenue day,” Manternach adds.

The Armed Services YMCA covers liability, insurance and logistics. “We handle the paperwork so the captains can focus on giving these kids the best day of their lives,” Riffer explains. “Every year, it works because people believe in it.”

That belief shows up in the details in the form of donated deck boots, fish fileting, Alaska Airlines flights coordinated at the last minute – even troopers escorting bus convoys from Anchorage to Seward.

One year, a Coast Guard medic quietly won a case of king crab. At the banquet, another soldier recognized his name. “That guy saved my life in Afghanistan,” he whispered. “He held a tourniquet on my leg for an hour.”

“That’s the stuff we can’t plan,” Sarah says. “But it happens. And it’s powerful.”

COMMUNITY SUPPORT

The tournament is sewn into the fabric of Seward. Charter operators, some of whom rarely work together, share bait and banter like old friends on this day. “It’s the one day a year we’re not competitors,” Candopoulos says. “We’re teammates.”

Local businesses donate meals, prizes and cash. The local chamber of commerce helps promote the event. The American Legion prepares an awards banquet fit for heroes.

“The Legion ladies cook all day,” Riffer says. “Roast beef, mashed potatoes, fresh rolls. It’s a full spread.”

Captains bring their A-game, guiding boats through prime fishing territory like Montague Island, Middleton and other hidden gems Candopoulos pioneered decades ago. “We want these kids to catch fish. Big fish,” he says.

Even on rough days – when the seas churn and a few participants turn green – the crews keep spirits high. “Some of the best memories come from the worst weather,” Riffer says with a laugh. “They always come back with a story.”

LOOKING AHEAD

The Combat Fishing Tournament turns 19 this year, continuing its legacy of connection, gratitude and camaraderie. There’s hope the concept will inspire others and catch on elsewhere. “There’s no reason a place like San Diego couldn’t host their own Combat Fishing Tournament,” Candopoulos says. “We’ll help them. We’d love to see this ripple outward.”

For now, Seward remains the home port. And every May, when the sun rises over Resurrection Bay, it’s not just another day on the water. It’s a fishing trip like no other – where rank fades, camaraderie takes the lead and halibut is theonlythinganyone’smeasuring.ASJ

Editor’s note: The Combat Fishing Tournament will be held on May 21. Visit the ASYMCA’s official page to find more details, donate, or get involved by going to alaska. asymca.org/combat-fishing-tournament.