As often as the stars align, so too does a work trip align with my innate need to chase fish & game in a remarkable environment. As I did not travel for my previous employment, this has all taken place in the last two years. Ironically, the first week of my new job here in Montana sent me to the Kenai Peninsula during the tail end of the sockeye salmon run.
This trip, however, aligned with the first surge of 'reds' up the rivers of the peninsula. Not anticipating a great run this early, I had planned my weekend around trout fishing. Traveling with two coworkers led to group decisions, and salmon quickly became the targeted fare, after some discussion with our local colleagues.
We worked Wednesday and Thursday, and the perpetual daylight allowed us to fish until almost 12:30am Friday morning on the Kasilof River. There were reports of reds in the system, and we saw quite a few people hooking up upon our arrival. We struggled the first night, but I had a brief encounter with a king salmon that I won't soon forget.
Swinging some combination of purple and pink through a run with my 9' 6 weight rod, things went taught and line started spooling quickly off a fully dialed disc drag. I saw what I first mistook for a dolphin or whale taking flight in the middle of the river while I held on for dear life. I may have had a few rotations of the reel in my favor, but eventually the line went slack and the hook made its way toward me through the night air. Shortly thereafter we called it a night.
The next morning we headed for Cooper's Landing, and the Russian River Campground. We wedged our way into the crowd on the Kenai River, and started hooking up almost immediately. Our architect informed me the night before that we must use barbless flies. I was doubtful because, the 'Kenai Fly' we picked up at the store had a nice big barb sticking out. After losing 17 fish, including two kings, I moved downstream.
The two engineers fished together, and we started asking questions to those around us that were more successful. The gentleman got a confused look on his face when I asked him about going barbless, and I quickly adjusted my setup to match his. Soon after switching, I hooked up, and lost a fish, sending the newly barbed hook setup directly into my cheek. I pulled for about 5 minutes with pliers with no success. Then, while walking upstream to ask for some assistance, the hook simply fell out.
My travel partner landed two sockeye, and I landed one, in the remaining hour or so of the fishing day. We retreated to beers and greasy food in Soldotna for the evening, figuring we'd use our newfound knowledge the following day in the same area.
In the morning, although the action was a little slow, we started landing fish. By 2PM, I had my limit on the beach and the other two guys both had one each. It'd be a nice group of filets to freeze and bring back to the landlocked world. After a brief scare in the morning when the Anchorage Hilton couldn't find my filets they had put in their freezer, we boarded and headed for Montana.
This trip, however, aligned with the first surge of 'reds' up the rivers of the peninsula. Not anticipating a great run this early, I had planned my weekend around trout fishing. Traveling with two coworkers led to group decisions, and salmon quickly became the targeted fare, after some discussion with our local colleagues.
The Kenai is salmon country.
We worked Wednesday and Thursday, and the perpetual daylight allowed us to fish until almost 12:30am Friday morning on the Kasilof River. There were reports of reds in the system, and we saw quite a few people hooking up upon our arrival. We struggled the first night, but I had a brief encounter with a king salmon that I won't soon forget.
Swinging some combination of purple and pink through a run with my 9' 6 weight rod, things went taught and line started spooling quickly off a fully dialed disc drag. I saw what I first mistook for a dolphin or whale taking flight in the middle of the river while I held on for dear life. I may have had a few rotations of the reel in my favor, but eventually the line went slack and the hook made its way toward me through the night air. Shortly thereafter we called it a night.
The next morning we headed for Cooper's Landing, and the Russian River Campground. We wedged our way into the crowd on the Kenai River, and started hooking up almost immediately. Our architect informed me the night before that we must use barbless flies. I was doubtful because, the 'Kenai Fly' we picked up at the store had a nice big barb sticking out. After losing 17 fish, including two kings, I moved downstream.
The crowd at Cooper's Landing.
The two engineers fished together, and we started asking questions to those around us that were more successful. The gentleman got a confused look on his face when I asked him about going barbless, and I quickly adjusted my setup to match his. Soon after switching, I hooked up, and lost a fish, sending the newly barbed hook setup directly into my cheek. I pulled for about 5 minutes with pliers with no success. Then, while walking upstream to ask for some assistance, the hook simply fell out.
After the hook came out.
My travel partner landed two sockeye, and I landed one, in the remaining hour or so of the fishing day. We retreated to beers and greasy food in Soldotna for the evening, figuring we'd use our newfound knowledge the following day in the same area.
Saturday's quarry.
In the morning, although the action was a little slow, we started landing fish. By 2PM, I had my limit on the beach and the other two guys both had one each. It'd be a nice group of filets to freeze and bring back to the landlocked world. After a brief scare in the morning when the Anchorage Hilton couldn't find my filets they had put in their freezer, we boarded and headed for Montana.
First attempt at fileting.
The results, with a refreshment.
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