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September 5, 2007.
The Kenai River. Alaska's Jewel.
The Kenai River is a slow-moving body, about 7 miles per hour. It flows gently for the most part of the year on a 75 mile course, winding through the canyons above Skilak Lake and then through the placid spruce-covered valleys as it unravels its' kinks toward the sea. In the sheer-wall canyon downstream from Kenai Lake and upstream from Skilak Lake, the current is often turbid as the aqua-colored water bounces with foam off the walls of the canyon. And it is here that the Abercrombie and Fitch crowd gather each fall and spring to chase the considerable abundance of Rainbow trout. Casting flies with their Orvis and Lamiglass fly-rods, it is not uncommon for these purists to catch and release as many as 30 rainbow per 6 hour trip down the river in a guided two-ended drift boat, often alternating the casting during the drift downstream and pausing frequently to test the gravel bars from the shore.
And the rainbow trout abundance is only one part of the magic of this fertile body. The numbers and world-class size of these magnificent fish, often present these guests with 15 pound wall-trophies. But, phenomenal as this fishery is, it is only a part of the magic, with the five varieties of salmon providing numbers, size and thrills that surpasses this fishery.
King salmon don't grow any larger anywhere else in the entire world, with the world's record of 97 pounds, an astounding unparalleled animal, sought after by thousands of anxious tourist fishermen every year during the summer months. And these magnificent behemoths of these glacier blue waters, actually spawn and produce their young in the main stem of the river as well as certain tributaries; a phenomenon in itself, considering the varied moods of this river during the often-occurring floods and occasional low water, exposing the gravel bars that contain the developing embryos. In the latter part of the spawning time in the early fall, it is not uncommon to see these monster fish, bright red in their final splendor, rolling and jumping to loosen the eggs and milt, all in the middle of the turbulent river, where soon they will retreat to the depths below where the females have made a place in the gravel for them to share for the future of their species.
Then, on or about the tenth of July of each year, the sleepy little town of Soldotna, Alaska, suddenly erupts with a transfusion of new blood, those souls with truculence in their eyes and a blood lust for conquering the run of Sockeye salmon. This is a right of passage, common to vacation retreats, but rarely with the intensity of purpose of these visitors. And it is infectious. The locals arouse themselves, as though half asleep and the moment arrives where we pinch ourselves and say "Hey, it's here. Get with it."
The Sockeye, or Reds, as the tourists and commercial fishermen like to call them, are the mainstay and by far the most popular of the game fish. This is a run that usually amounts to a million fish escaping to the upriver lakes and tributaries, and provides an abundant harvest for commercial fishermen and tourists alike, with the fallout to the business community that, for the most part, makes this town survive.
And then after the main course of King Salmon and Sockeye Salmon providing our fix, we then are offered the dessert - the ice cream parfait that we know is the culmination of everything we have always wanted when it comes to sport fishing - the mighty and unchallenged champion of acrobatic somersaults - the Coho. The Silver salmon are without question the finest of them all. Not the largest, but pound for pound these guys have the heart of a champion and most of us bow to them in homage and reverence.
The Silver salmon are the last of the spawning schedule and there could be no finer way to wrap up a season of fishing. If we get our share of silvers, most of us are content to wrap it up and enjoy the satiation. We'll go back to the Honey-Do's without any resistance and the lawns and gardens get some belated attention, all with good spirits.
Meanwhile, the die-hards are out there chasing some more Dolly Varden and Rainbows that continue to provide an autumn draw as the leaves on the vine maples and alder turn to gold and drop their leaves in the Kenai River, sending a blessed goodbye to summer and convert the thrills to memories to savor during the white snowdrifts. We, along with the river, will now languish in peace. #
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