Put on a Happy Face

The Sweet Spot eddy of Klutina River, near Copper River

July 03-08, 2013 Wednesday afternoon I returned to the Upper Bridge at COPPER CENTER to fish the Klutina River for Reds. I had the boat launch to myself after a guy limited in 15 minutes of fishing. I limited too but it took me a couple of hours. A couple of guys showed up and one of them was REALLY goofy. He carried a camera and took pictures of everything, would lie down on the gravel drive with cars going around him and sometimes he thought it would be cool to throw stones in the river. His partner saw me casting and thought he would give it a try. He returned to his vehicle and pulled out a brand new spinning rod/reel combination package, still in the plastic clam shell. He fiddled with it for a half hour and proceeded to cast and retrieve some gaudy plug with treble hooks (illegal for this section of river) with his left hand. The humorous part was he held the right handed rig with his left hand, had the reel on top and had to reel it backwards to retrieve. I will give him this, he did not tangle my line but I did not catch my second and third until they left. I filleted and was putting my stuff in the truck when Scott and Polly (yesterday’s couple) showed up again.

We stood around while another bunch of rookies hit the slow moving eddy. They were all Army guys and had a snagging way of fishing. The most aggressive of the fisherman would toss the hook, let it drift then SET the hook with a fast motion (snagging rip). He even foul hooked two of his three fish and kept them. He was either ignorant of the rules or just out there to best the others in his party. I drank a beer with Scott and Polly and just enjoyed the show. It was certainly more entertaining then current reality TV productions and we had front row seats. The temperature dropped to 50 and the clock read 11:00pm. It was time to be heading for home.

Thursday, the Fourth of July is a special time for the United States and the Fenton Police Department. The annual question phoned into the dispatch was, “What time are the fireworks?” To which our dispatch would always reply, “Dusk!” That made me think of my favorite police people back in Dibbleville. I texted Dale, Samantha and Cathi the following: up here, when they call and ask, “What time are the fireworks?” You can’t reply, “Dusk.”

Mosquitoes are not built for windy conditions so at 5:00pm I was again on the Klutina without any bug dope. The holiday crowd wasn’t watching for the fireworks, they were packed in on the river. I went from crowded hole to crowded hole and finally wound up at the German Hole. The most annoying family was positioned at the two best spots. Dad and mom kept hollering at the two boys (about 8 and 6 years old) to shut up or put that pole down or if you don’t stop. To top it off, they were using illegal rigging and snagging as best they could. Each rig and three hooks and a short leader between each (looked like a walleye crawler harness) making it lethal when ripped from beneath any unsuspecting fish. One of the hooks was bound to hit flesh and that they did. Finally, they limited six foul hooked fish and noisily departed for their dysfunctional camp. Another experienced fisherman had quietly slipped in, limited in the downstream portion and was busily filleting his catch while I caught my first red. We shared complaints about the “family” and their fishing techniques. He had brought a single 12 ounce bottle of Porter and offered me half of it. I suppose I did mention that thick, dark heavily bodied ales were a favorite of mine. However, I declined the generous offer but I will be packing in a 22 in case we meet again. Don’t worry, the 22 is not referring to a weapon…it is a 22 ounce bottle of ale. I fouled my second fish in the gill plate while he was still there and another two couples had just arrived. I released the fish and continued casting. The new fisherpersons took the leftover holes as I again foul hooked and released number three. The patriarch of that group commented on my outstanding ethics and conversation ensued. The guys had been long time military buddies and the couple from Kentucky were up visiting the 49th for ten days. Rick and Lori Karnes, Fairbanks, were the hosts trying to get their guests their first sockeye. I limited about 20 minutes later and continued my visiting after the filleting was completed. Rick had retired from the Army as an MP, was still retired and devoting the rest of his time to hunting, fishing, and trapping. When it was all said and done, I snapped pictures as they held their 12 fish and stood side by side in the Klutina. It was 15 minutes shy of July 5th so I bid them goodbye and I said I’d look Rick up when I get to Fairbanks this fall. Hmmmm, moose hunting sounds good.

On Friday, I slept in after my late night fishing/dinner/shower that had me up past 2:00am. Jon and Krista arrived home sometime around 3:00am and he only gets ten days before having to return to work. We split up some chores, Krista got the house, Jon the garbage burn barrels and I got to mow the airstrip, about five acres of tall grasses, lupine, fireweed, alder and willow.

Saturday was in the upper 50s to low 60s throughout the day with gusts and steady breeze. I helped load a truck of junk for Jon’s dump run then headed over to Ken’s to see if my replacement rod had arrived. I heard a rumor that the Fish & Game E.O. the limit for Klutina reds from three to six, hmmm. I packed my fishing gear before the trip across the highway (two lane road) and my upper section arrived. Darn, I forgot the lower section, so another trip with an Ugly Stik. I was walking the familiar south bank looking for space and found everything packed with unfamiliar faces and body shapes. The farther I walked toward the Copper, the fewer the fishermen, but the holes were smaller. I crossed the last river/creek braid of the Klutina and I was all alone, save five other fishermen. We had a quarter mile of gravel bank to fish, so we never bumped elbows.

I tinkered looking for a good drift and found snags most of the time. I re-crossed a portion of that braid to reach a sandbar. Four casts and I had a colored 25” buck after an hour of fishing. That brought the attention of the remaining anglers and everyone tossed something into the icy water. After thirty minutes, they headed back and I soon followed suit to look for a greater concentration of fish. I found a hole just upstream from this last braid and the eddy was about 150 feet long and 15 feet wide. Plenty of potential here so I started to find a sweet spot for the next five fish. I backed upstream as far as I could and on the first cast, WHAM, fish on and after a brief fight, number two was thrashing on the stringer. WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, twenty minutes at the most and I had completed my limit. That is how the Red Fishing is supposed to be. Now I had the chore of filleting out six fish for smoking. Three were halved and I kept the tail section (HINT: boneless) and the spoon meat for fresh fish cooking. Jon and I would be busy brining and smoking about 20 pounds on Sunday and Monday.

Three military guys walked into the area began fishing the braid eddy. Josh, had a big grin when he asked if I caught anything. My grin was just as big as I pointed out the half full kitchen garbage bag of fillets. I was pleasure fishing at that point so I relinquished the possession of the sweet spot to the new angler. I caught and released four more fish, visited and coached Josh. He would hookup and lose a fish every minute or so. After 20 minutes he had one fish on a stringer, the most colored buck to date, and lost a dozen more. I could leave the action, so I would fish and put things away, then another flurry would start and I would again start fishing. Josh had three on the stringer and my right arm and hand was sore when I left at 11:30pm. My face was also a bit sore because I couldn’t stop smiling that afternoon.

I re-prepped my fishing rod Sunday morning and used it that afternoon on the Klutina. I was lucky and found the “sweet spot” vacant. After an hour I had a couple fish on but didn’t land a thing. Once they started making it to shore via my rod, I limited in 73 minutes. Now Jon and I will have a dozen to smoke. I got home too late to brine but will get to it early tomorrow.

On Monday, I prepped fish and brined them before helping Jon entertain Krista’s parents and relatives. They are all travelling to Valdez on Tuesday for a three day boat and fishing trip. We chose the bridge on the Klutina for their fishing pleasure. We arrived with the rain but it lasted about a half an hour, just enough to soak the unprepared. Krista’s dad, Clay (2) and Jon (1) were the only successful fishermen. I caught my six and was happily pleasure fishing when another group walked up to fish. The grandfather, three sons, and grandson were rigging incorrectly for this type of fishing, so I showed them my setup and performed a demonstration. On my second cast I hooked up and landed a 24” red that was very bright and fresh. Moments later, the fish was swimming upstream after my release and lesson was over. I even loaned them my rod while I ran back to the truck to retrieve a board for filleting. I returned 40 minutes later, after talking to other people and they had landed one fish. I filleted and watched as they kept missing fish after fish. After completing the filleting, I asked if I could hook a fish for ten year old Dylan. It was agreed and after a hookup, I handed the rod to Dylan. As he struggled with fish, I reached in to assist and we walked downstream toward the gravel bar. The red wanted nothing of this and shook loose. Moments later the event had a different outcome as Dylan was now posing with a 26” Sockeye for a proud family. The grin was unmistakably familiar. When it was all said and done, nine fish were on their stringer and Dylan and accounted for five of them. That didn’t include the four foul hooked and released fish he and I landed. I shared a beer with them and was thanked several times for the memories they had experienced.

It was now 7:30pm and I could start for home. Wait, another group of fisherman and the mother of the group was getting messy with the filleting. I paused and we made small talk, discussing techniques and fishing style. She had her twin 14 year old daughters, son and nephew up from Palmer, Alaska. They had been plugging away since 3:30pm and had yet to limit. I offered some assistance and was soon hooking up fish for Maddie. Maddie landed three before I finally tossed in the towel. Katie, her twin caught two and nephew, Thomas had one in their new fishing hole. Mom took a picture of Maddie, Thomas and myself with two of their fish. It had been a good day.

The six Sockeye limit