My wife, Beth, and I traveled to Alaska in August 2017 and 2019, respectively. We had about decided not to go this year until we visited with Randy and Ruth McReynolds. These good friends from Rosanky went with us last year. They called wanting to know if we were going in 2020.
“Not likely,” we replied.
But then we began to consider our age. We both said, “We’re not getting any younger. Let’s go while we still can.”
Randy and Ruth were delighted. I love to fish Clear Creek off the Talkeetna River about 100 miles above Anchorage. The silver Salmon always run up the Talkeetna into the creek to spawn about mid-August. Many years ago we fished Clear Creek during the King Salmon run. It was phenomenal in June and early July. But the King run on the creek is very weak now. No fish can be retained. The biologists are trying to rebuild that great King Salmon run.
But the silver run on the creek is still strong. The only problem about fishing out of Talkeetna in mid-August is the rains. It’s the rainy season. My daughter, Teresa, and son-in-law, Bill Paschall, went to TAlkeetna in August 2018. They had heard so much about the silver run on the creek and seen our pictures. They just had to go. I gave Bill the perfect lures — and told him just how and where to fish. They were pumped. But heavy rains flooded the river and all the creeks. They couldn’t ever take the jet boat up the river.
But we had perfect weather this year. Never put on the raincoat. The thermometer read about 49 degrees each morning and never reached 80. What a relief from the 107 that we left behind in Texas! The jet boat ride up the Talkeetna River early in the morning is worth the price of admission. The river is a glacier run off river. It’s always murky. Avoiding shallow gravel bars, logjams and snags in the swift water is quite a feat. But Rhett Nealis, owner of Tri-River Charters, is quite a boat driver. He always gets us there and back safely.
My next-door neighbor, Tom Ray, and his three boys were on the Talkeetna in late July. He had heard our stories also. They loved the boat ride.
“Rhett and his wife, Margot, are really quality people,” Tom said. “And the boat ride was better than Six Flags.”
Rhett deposited us at the creek mouth at 7 a.m. and promised to return us at 3 p.m. Only Randy and I fished the first day. The girls planned for day two.
Randy knew the drill from our trip in 2019. In a moment, he was casting a pink and silver Pixie spoon on the seam-line where the crystal-clear waters of the creek entered the muddy river. In just a little over an hour he had his three fish silver salmon limit on the stringer.
The creek, as always, was full of salmon — silvers, pinks and chums. At any moment, you could see hundreds of fish. I fished my 8-weight fly rod most of the day. While Randy was catching silvers, big chum salmon, also called dogs, were eating my fly. Wrestling those mean eight- to 12-pound brutes kept my arm sore. A 10-pound fish in a strong current is always a challenge. If he happens to be foul-hooked in the dorsal fin or tail it’s a violent war.
Most years fishing on the creek is combat fishing — elbow-to-elbow. But thanks to COVID-19, we fished most of the day alone. It was true wilderness fishing.
By the time we heard the jet boat coming up the river to pick us up, we had our six silver salmon on the stringer and had released many of the chums and pinks.
That night, we grilled salmon and vegetables and served it over a bed of rice. We should open a restaurant.
Next morning, the girls joined us. The silver run was weaker than the previous day. But that’s fishing. Every day is a new day.
Very early, Ruth hooked a powerful fish. Her reel drag was set much too light and the fish quickly powered into the river. We tightened the drag and finally stopped his run.
“I think he’s foul-hooked,” Randy moaned.
Randy took the rod and began to back up the gravel bar while I pulled the fish by hand against the current. We finally landed him, removed the hook from the tail and released the big silver. Any foul-hooked salmon in Alaska must be released.
Beth got her arms worked over fishing big chums. Most of them ate her spoon but several were foul-hooked. Lots of hard work.
The fly rod was deadly again. I caught many pinks, chums and one big silver. I lost three other silves right at the bank. My biggest thrill was catching a big sockeye, also known as red salmon. Last year, sockeyes were plentiful in the creek. This year I saw only five of those red-bodied and green-headed fish.
Among hundreds of pink and chums I spotted a big sockeye. Normally, sockeyes don’t bite once they leave the ocean and enter freshwater. I cast my pink coho fly upstream and drifted it right to him. He showed interest by moving toward the lure. I cast again, and when the fly entered his zone, I saw his mouth open and the fly disappeared.
A good hook set sent him powering upstream. He gave a good account of himself in the battle before I dragged him onto the gravel bank.
All four of us kept on fishing until our ride at 4:30 p.m. It was a tiring but wonderful day.
