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Guest Blog: Alaskan Salmon Fishing Goes South

Howard — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 09:36:00 +0000

Every once in a while, I stumble across a blog post that makes me laugh out loud. Fred Telleen, Alaskan fly fishing guide, T-shirt entrepreneur and master storyteller provided me with just such a happy moment, and he was kind enough to agree to my sharing the story with you.

The Three Beverly Hills Attorneys

As a professional adult day care provider and fly fishing guide, I need to be careful about razzing fishing clients on my own blog, even if some of them deserve it. That is why I am offering up this story as a guest post. This occurred long ago when I was in my early 20s and guiding for one of the many fishing lodges on the Kenai River. Fortunately, I now own my own business and handle my bookings directly. Many of my guests return yearly and/or refer their friends and family, so incidents like this no longer happen. No offense is intended toward the many great attorneys out there who work hard so they can fish every chance they can get.

I was supposed to meet three clients at the Kenai Airport arriving on a 9am flight. I waited as passengers deplaned and they did not show up. I called the lodge to inquire if they’d called in, but they’d heard nothing. I waited for the next flight an hour later and still no guys. I figured I’d wait it out for one more. At 10:30, three gentlemen were deposited on the curb by a cab. Could these be my guys? They were standing there in silk jogging suits holding little hand bags. I said, “Are you guys looking for your guide?” They said, “We are here to go to “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River”. I said “Which one?” They said, “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River.” Apparently they had come in an hour earlier and grabbed a cab, telling the driver to take them to “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River”. The cabbie drove them around for an hour and a half. Who knows how many miles they traveled while racking up a steep bill. Knowing the correct name of their destination might have helped.

I got their names and called “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River” where I worked. My lodge reached their booking agent and I was somewhat disappointed to find out that they were my guys. I inquired, “Where is your luggage?” They said, “We don’t have any. Our secretary booked the trip and told us that our trip was all-inclusive.” I said, “That’s true, but you still need to bring your own clothes. We are headed straight to the river, already several hours late, and it’s 48 degrees and raining. We are going to have to stop at a sporting goods store so you guys can at least get some rain gear and another layer.”

So I took them into a store where they moaned about having to buy the appropriate gear. We finally got on the river at noon for a float that was over ten miles long. As we launched, the rain quit and they started in about wasting money on rain gear. I advised that they suit up for warmth and to be covered when the rain started again, which it soon did. They didn’t suit up. “It will stop,” they said. Eventually it did, but they were wet, cold and miserable and still complaining about having to buy the stupid raingear. One of the guys produced a bottle of scotch and they proceeded to get drunk and even ruder.

We were fishing for king salmon on the Lower Kenai River in a drift boat after a late start in lousy conditions. It was quickly turning into the boat ride from hell. In the midst of our collective misery and while I was rowing like a mad man to hold the boat in a heavy water slot, the miraculous happened. Two rods went down and two big kings were hooked and ripping line. One went down river toward the ocean liked he’d made a wrong turn, and the other went straight upriver past the boat on a spawning mission not to be derailed. I tried to explain that we needed to chase the down runner if we were going to land either fish. The upper classy fellow with the upstream rocket started screaming at me to chase his fish back up 14,000cfs of heavy water. I politely ignored his request without trying to explain the physics problem. Fortunately his fish self-released while he was seething at me. He refused to reel in his 100yds. of line and it eventually passed the boat, tangled in a sweeper, and I had to cut it off while still trying to navigate around several boulders and stay on the same path as the other fish.

We eventually landed an awesome 55lb. King. At this point, the guys were roaring drunk and going hypothermic, so I felt justified in bailing despite the other two anglers howling about wanting bigger fish than the one their lucky S.O.B. of a friend had caught. On the way down to the landing, they screamed at every boat we passed and complained about lousy fishing. The hour long ride back to the lodge was a real joy. At dinner that night, two of the guys got into a fight and broke some dishes and pretty much scared the other guests.

At breakfast the next morning, I explained that the sockeye salmon fishing on the upper Kenai was really good and that if they were willing to try fly fishing, we could have an action filled day. I figured that even a drunken lawyer from LA could hook some sockeyes the way they were running until they said, “We know all about fly fishing. We just saw that movie.” Right…

So I floated them down to a nice gravel run where sockeye were streaming past. We were set up with 8-wt. fly rods and 300 grain Teeny Lines. I explained the concept of drifting the fly deeply and swinging it across the path of the fish. No false casting necessary. This is a heavy sinking line. Just flip it upstream, roll cast to redirect the angle and lead it back down with the rod tip. My demonstration drift was interrupted by an energetic chrome sockeye. “We know what we’re doing,” they scoffed and the pain fest began. I have never witnessed such careless flogging. No attempts at ordered casting were made and my vain tries at demonstrating the proper technique kept resulting in me hooking more fish. After three tries, I gave up and spent the next hour untangling lines from rocks, vegetation, myself, themselves and pretty much everything but the hundreds of fish that were streaming past.

Finally, one of the guys paused mid flog to take a breath, and his line sank just enough to hook a fish in the dorsal fin. Off it went like a scalded cat, while he yowled as his fingers were battered by the whirling reel handle. I pretty much figured I would lose the fly line without rapid response, so I sprinted down the bar, caught the fly line and drug in the hapless fish, quickly releasing it.

When I walked back up to the guys, they were lined up waiting. “What the f**! do you think you are doing letting our fish go?” I explained that the fish was foul hooked and not a legal catch and that by regulation, we were required to release it. “We don’t give a g** d@^ $*!+about your f*^(!n fishing regulations.” I tried to remain calm while explaining that despite their feelings, I was a fishing guide and my job is to follow the regulations. Under no circumstances was I going to break the law for them. They made their disregard for regulations quite clear and challenged me with their legal expertise. There was more F**! piece of s**! Alaska regulations don’t means S**! to me, before I said, “Let’s go try another spot.” I floated straight to the landing and left them there while I hiked to the road and hitchhiked back to the lodge. I found the lodge manager and explained the situation. He went back and picked them up and they were on a plane home the next day.

These guys win the award for the worst clients ever. Their award is banishment from Alaska for life. They seriously made me question the guiding profession. I’m glad I did not waiver and I’ve now enjoyed many years and hundreds of the Best Clients Ever. There have been unique experiences impossible to enumerate, shared with many great people in some very special places.

If you fancy your shot at being a Best Client Ever, one of his fantastic t-shirts, or just more of his adventures and wisdom, you can find Fred at the aptly named Mystic Fishing.

Spring Has Sprung, The Grass Has Riz…

Howard — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 05:02:45 +0000

I wonder where the water is?!

It’s only April and after a statistically dry winter (okay, there were days in the shooting season when it didn’t seem that way), and some unseasonable hot spells, water levels are looking low. Hardly suprising given we’ve had 2mm so far in April, and a miniscule 8mm in March – 10mm that’s a tenth of the average rainfall for this time of year.

The rivers are starting to fine off, with the silt dropping out and summer-style clarity dominating. The weed is getting a jump on the swans and growing at a good rate. As a result, there is plenty of invert life around the riverbank. With granom on the Avon and hawthorne on the Test, I’ll be popping out to flick the fluff before packing my rods for Bosnia, Spain and Argentina.

If you fancy reducing your stress and blood pressure without contorting yourself into a pretzel doing yoga, why not join us on a riverbank or a small stillwater pond? Or get in touch for coaching to improve your rivercraft or casting.

A Cast A Day Keeps the Doctor Away

Howard — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 13:49:10 +0000

There’s no question we’re stressed – just take a look at my follicularly-challenged bonce. Then there are all the statistics on strokes, unfitness and depression: all rising with my blood pressure. So we need to release that valve, blow off some steam, or in a former beloved’s jargon ‘take some ME time’ (clearly an unpopular suggestion given she’s been superceded by No.2). If shutting the bathroom door, lighting candles and filling the tub with bubbles doesn’t float your boat, I have the solution for you: fly fishing.

According to the Stress Reduction Institute, “Even 1 second of relaxation can break up the stress patterns in your brain.” So imagine what an evening’s fly fishing will do! Whether you’re an experienced fluff flicker looking to cast your line in new and uncharted waters for unencountered species or a novice who likes the sound of wandering up the river bank in carpet slippers G&T in hand, when it comes to fish wish fulfilment I’m your man or know someone who will be.

There’s something and somewhere to fish year-round in the UK before you look further afield. So before you end up at the gym, GPs or heaven forbid A&E, join me and mine on the bank (be it pond, river, ocean or lake). For those of you addicted to the adrenaline rush of the gym, nothing raises the heart rate or the spirits like having a tight line.

Guest Blogger: Tony does the Kharlovaka

Howard — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 18:51:59 +0000

This guest blog has us joining Tony Watson on the banks of the Kharlovka in Russia in his continuing pursuit of THE fish: an enormous salmon. Just how big is enormous is a question we’ve been asking Tony for years as he travels the globe after the elusive fish of a lifetime.

Try as I might, I just couldn’t get my Spey cast to come together. The more effort I put in, the more it went wrong. This was turning into a disaster…and I was less than an hour in.

I was fishing in August on the Kharlovka, one of Russia’s northern rivers situated on the famous Kola Peninsula. The northern rivers have a repuation for being challenging to fish. Less prolific than their southern counterparts in terms of numbers, they yield much larger multi-sea-winter fish. I didn’t want to catch a lot of fish: I was looking for the fish.

This was my quest for the week, assuming I could ever get my fly into the water. Eventually my fishing partner, Sean Clark, lit another cigarette and waded out to join me. “Calm down and stop dropping your rod tip when you bring your cast to the stop.” The line formed a tight loop and I finally started to cover the water, easy.

We fished down the pool together and I could finally relax and start to enjoy myself. I drank in my surroundings and reflected on the prospects for the week ahead. The first part of which we’d enjoy in the comforts of the lodge on the Kharlovka, and the second would see us helicopter to the nearby Litza and tented accommodation. As I considered what lay in store, I felt the familiar tap…tap as my line started to draw away: a fish! Not the monster I was looking for, but as I safely returned the fish, I had the feeling I was in for a good week.

Set in pristine tundra, the rivers here are achingly beautiful and leave you feeling this must have been what salmon fishing was like everywhere a couple of hundred years ago. Challenging to fish in parts, the rivers required some tricky wading and long casts, but this made all the more thought provoking and rewarding an experience. As the week slipped by, the rivers lived up to their reputation. One memorable afternoon saw a fellow anger land a personal best of 31lbs to be followed down the pool by his companion, who then caught a fish of 35lbs out of the same lie (I felt satisfied enough ending the week with my own personal best of 20lbs and several smaller fish to boot). The Kharlovka and Liza are truly fisherman’s rivers where you’re only ever a cast away from something amazing.

If you want to join Tony in his pursuit of GARGANTUAN salmon and trout, he’ll be leading a few trips to various prime big fish locations each year. Get in touch!

Cuba Libre Trifecta

Howard — Sun, 02 Jan 2011 15:56:19 +0000

Famed for the saltwater fishing off its shores, Jardines del Ray is an archipelago extending out along the northern coast of Cuba. This necklace of islands and reefs provides fly fishermen with the opportunity to cast for bonefish on the flats, tarpon among the tangled roots of the flooded mangrove forests, and permit in the deeper waters. In the summer heat of June and July, large tarpon join the bonefish on the flats making for some exciting and unusual sight fishing.

An old sugarcane plantation provides accommodation in traditional rural Cuban style and is an ideal base to which to retreat after a day on the flats and the world’s second largest coral reef. The drive between the plantation and the marina gives you an opportunity to see a small slice of the region named the Garden of the Kings for its natural beauty and diversity of wildlife (it has the lowest population density in Cuba) including its famous roseate flamingoes.

Fishing For Red Hot Christmas Gift?

Howard — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 08:00:31 +0000

Are you searching for the perfect gift for the person who has everything? Or maybe, like me, you are trying to help loved ones to buy something you actually WANT and not another pair of socks or the ever-present scarf? Outside Days provides flyfishing lessons for every level of fisherperson, from the complete beginner to someone wishing to refine their double hauling technique.

As the old saying goes, give someone a fish, and you’ve fed them for the day. Teach them to fish, and not only do you feed them for a lifetime, but it makes it much easier to buy them gifts for birthdays and Christmases yet to come.

We offer a range of lesson plans, from all-season, lake-based courses to bespoke chalkstream masterclasses. Gift days start from £90.

Devonshire Flyrod McNab: Saltwater

Howard — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 12:01:26 +0000

My fascination with all things saline began early, on what now would be a staycation, but then was a seaside holiday. As saltwater fly fishing has moved from the subtropical bonefish north into temperate waters, I have been able to combine my two passions and reduce No. 2′s irritation with me.

David Pilkington is another convert to a phenomenon I have written about here: bored fly fishermen finding alternative quarry at which to fling fluff…albeit considerably larger dust bunnies. Having failed on the freshwater sections of the Devonshire McNab, we were determined to turn around our fortunes by heading to the sea (not the first Brit to think this would be the making of my adventure). We kitted up in the carpark, surrounded by intrigued walkers and ponies: donning waders and strapping washing up bowls (line trays) to one’s waist caused a sensation among the less fashionably attired. Setting off across the sands to meet the flooding tide, we passed a host of promising looking depressions that would be fish-holding pools on our return journey.

As soon as we reached the water, all our dreams of crystal clear seas were shattered: the swell resembled a tossed salad. Saltwater decorated with rafts of seaweed, driftwood and swirling sand charged up the race to meet the turbulent spate freshwater. Imagine fishing into Realtree camo, and you’ll come close. Double hauling frantically to get the best of the clearer water, it was impossible to tell whether the knock on the end of your line was a fish or a passing pallet. Undetered, we fished on, David watching the incoming sea to make sure we could still beat a hasty retreat to the diminishing beach. After a couple of hours of good effort with nothing to show except improved technique, we accepted defeat, and returned to the welcoming fires of the Arundel Arms where a consolation dinner awaited us.

Clearly, this is not an adventure for the weak of cast, the pessimist, or those afraid to fail. But then what true challenge is? The tides and runs of sea bass and sea trout make this a trip with a limited window of availability. If you fancy having a go, don’t hesitate in getting in touch to secure the best dates.

Devonshire Flyrod McNab: Freshwater

Howard — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 17:57:48 +0000

We wrote this blog more than a year ago, but had to hold off sharing it with you for editorial reasons. Now, in the gloomy rain of autumn, it seems appropriate to hark back to summers gone, and dream of the ones to come. As I have observed when trying to justify my attempts to catch barbel on the fly, fishermen invent new challenges when bored. The Arundell Arms staff, passionate about their flyfishing, have invented the Devonshire Flyrod McNab: brown trout, sea trout and sea bass on the fly in a day. I’ve been desperate to visit the infamous Arms since I was 10 and keen to learn to flyfish. Needless to say, my parents couldn’t be convinced to send their kid off to Devon on his own, and had no interest in accompanying me, so I had to satisfy myself with drooling over their brochures. Thirty years on, Anne Voss-Bark was kind enough to invite me and Number Two to stay and attempt the McNab.

The 2008 season was a challenging one on the spate rivers, with the constant rain making conditions unpredictable, but I packed my rods in great anticipation, and headed west. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of staying at the Arundell Arms, it is famed as much for its fabulous food and hospitality as for the 20 miles of fishing on the Tamar and its tributaries.

Conditions on the Tamar resembled the Nile in flood, ruling out any night time adventures as the water was just too dangerous to fish for sea trout in the dark. Come the morning, it was apparent we would have to be clever with our fly choice to tempt salmonids of any flavour to take. Needless to say after several hours of dangling Pilkington Bumbles (our ghillie’s foolproof invention) in likely spots, we conceded defeat and beat a hasty retreat to the welcoming arms of the bar. Under fishing paraphernalia that would make the most accquisitory collector blush, we plotted and schemed the salty part of the day’s challenge.

Playing in the Avon

Howard — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 08:00:12 +0000

Living in close proximity to the director of the British Deer Society has its disadvantages: when they have an auction, he bamboozles me with flattery (as only he can do), and I find myself guiding on the River Avon. Secretly, of course, I am more than happy to support the BDS and its aims, and to share a stretch of river I love. For me, it is the river of my childhood dreams, a real Mr. Crabtree water (giving my age away), packed with coarse fish as well as trout, sea trout, and even the occasional salmon.

Fortunately, the successful bidder and his friend share my views, and could both fish (a necessary skill for having success on this water, packed as it is with wading challenges, trees, barbed wire and uncut weed…never mind wily fish). We were on the river by 11, having trekked downstream in waders that were doing their utmost to resemble portable saunas.

The first fish of the day weighed in at an impressive 3oz…an escapee brownie from a nearby fish farm. As host, you always worry that the first fish is a harbinger of things to come. Fortunately, in this case it was only an easy introduction to day filled with trout from the 3 oz to the monster 3lb that was the biggest the river keeper had seen caught on fly. As dusk began to loom, we had accounted for a wide selection of trout and the odd coarse fish, all of which were returned to fight another day.

Salmon, trout and….tuna?!

Howard — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 11:37:35 +0000

With my son in an Irish boarding school, I have taken to haunting Ireland’s rivers and coast in search of perfect sporting opportunities. We’ve bagged two new jaunts based around Dingle Bay in County Kerry: salmon and trout on the lower stretches of the River Caragh and albacore tuna on the fly offshore.The Upper Caragh appears in the pages of Salmon & Trout on a regular basis, but until this season, the Lower Caragh was a net fishery. And fly fishing for tuna? The skipper caught the European record albacore in 2007 on lures and is absolutely convinced that the piscine champion of the northern seas will take to the fly.

There are no rod records for the Lower Caragh, so short of sticking a wet finger in the wind and guessing, we can only tell you the Upper Caragh records 250-300 salmon a year, and the net fishery was declaring a similar number. The river is dotted with the riffs, ripples and pools that make salmon fishing so exciting. Sea trout and brownies also run in the river, and there are an abundance of sea bass in the sea pool and estuary, making multispecies days a possibility.

For regular readers of these pages, you’ll know I’m easily goaded into non-traditional sporting challenges, egged on and accompanied by Special John, Kayak Nick, Tobias the Pedant and Tony. When I heard the nearby wildlife touring boat turned its hand to a little offshore tuna fishing for a few months a year, I had to challenge the captain. So he’d caught the European record…could he help me and anyone crazy enough to join me tackle tuna on the fly? He’s game…are you?

***there are still a few places for rods on a trip the first week in August to fish the Lower Caragh’s salmon run***