The Alagnak is a wild and vast river. Flowing for a hundred miles or more through the Alaskan bush, it rips apart tree-lined banks, tumbles rocks the size of refrigerators the distance of a football field, washing and wearing down the tundra. Finding it’s course it gouges new routes each season, turning rocks into pebbles and sand; It’s j0b since the dawn of time. Sending countless millions upon millions of gallons of freshwater over the wilderness to the ocean of Bristol Bay.
My days are spent travelling The Alagnak as the captain of a 16 foot Lowe Roughneck flat bottom scow with a 60 HP Yamaha Jet outboard bolted to the transom. In the front of the boat sit two sports on board to enjoy the fly fishing. Pacific salmon come to the river from the ocean to engage in their final act of life. Reproduction. They number in the hundreds of thousands.
What I came here to find I have found. Pristine beauty and wilderness. A river full of fish. And I find it as satisfying as anything I have ever done. Wet and cold and rain and challenging boating require stamina and endurance and positive attitude. The basic things everything worthwhile requires.
Some days I eat shit. Suck up gravel into my jet foot during a wrong turn into a narrow shallow channel while trying to find my way through the labryinth…The maze of braided channels. Making my way up and down this massive river, on step, is full of nervous excitement. Frought with challenge. The easy part is the fish. A pink fly bobbed and stripped in front of aggressive salmon makes them bite.
Rainbow trout are the real prize. The Alagnak River is infested with Rainbow trout. A bastion of their existence, the river harbors their health and the bounty of Salmon that return every summer to spawn and die feed them to adults. Grows them big and strong. A real trophy rainbow is measured over 30 inches.
Mosquitoes, black flies, and no-see-ums chew on my ears and hands as I stand on a remote gravel bar. Anglers angle and the boat sits at rest. A sow brown bear and a tiny cub emerge from the tall grass on river left. My sports hook and lose salmon and trout. One after another. The sky is grey and the ceiling is low. The raindrops sheet off my back and drip over the brim of my soaked hat. Big zombie half-dead chum salmon swim past my feet.
No place else would I rather be.
Peace.
Mike
