All Good Things Come To An End...Right?
Daylight in the summer in the land of the midnight sun is as bountiful as the salmon that swim in its streams. You get the feeling this will never change. That feeling is fleeting especially in the year-rounders. To the unacquainted, it’s hard to imagine how much Alaska changes in the winter. Change comes and it comes quickly. If you aren’t prepared, you’ll be left out in the cold. This ominous time of the year, however, belongs to the winter steelhead. Like many others, we are winter steelhead addicts.
Winter steelhead are a special species. They aren’t as robust in Alaskan streams as salmon. Winter steelhead can be hard to find. If you know where to look, however, the rewards are worth the effort.
Low Flow
“At least it’ll be above freezing,” my friend says, referring to the forecast calling for rain and temperatures in the high 30s. I laugh and look on down the road. We are on our our annual pilgrimage to the land of the winter steelhead. This trip, however, is different for two reasons. First, we brought along a cabin sized tent with a portable wood stove to combat the cold. The other is low flow.
This summer in most of Alaska was one of the driest on record. As a direct result, many Alaskan streams have run very low. For our stream, water flow was less than half of an average year at this time. It wasn’t until we saw the stream when we truly appreciated how low the water was. Our fear was that this would change fish behavior and where we might find them. Essentially meaning we are fishing an unknown stream. Our fear proved true the first day. Coming up empty after fishing our favorite holes and runs that typically hold fish when water flow is “normal.”
Try, Try, and Try Again
The sun set in the distance as we sat around our fire cooking dinner. Generally a highlight for me, tonight I was left with a bad taste in my mouth despite the expertly cooked rib-eye steaks we just finished indulging ourselves on. Usually this part of the night we our enjoying a few cold-ones and re-telling our accounts of fish we caught. This night we found ourselves asking, “What went wrong?” A change in strategy was desperately needed if we wanted any hope of shaking hands with the infamous winter steelhead.
I woke suddenly to the repetitive whining of my alarm blaring in my ear. It was morning the next day. The sun hadn’t risen and neither had my friend. I set off to start the morning ritual of preparing anything for breakfast, lighting the wood stove, and brewing some much needed coffee. After completing the morning tasks, I wake my buddy. I was eager because we were going to be trying a few holes that tend to hold the most water, therefore, give us best opportunity to hook into a fish.
Success
Our change in plan paid off. Day 2 we hooked into and landed more steelhead in one day than either of us have caught in this river before. This continued over the next day. We both managed to get fish on the swing with our two-handed rods. A sigh of relief overcame me after the start we had on the first day. Going to sleep those nights were a little bit easier.
Our newfound success was short lived. Rain came down the last night and it came down hard. The river was completely blown out the last day; the color of a tasty looking chocolate milk. We tried anyways but it seems are luck ran out. We weren’t too down because this is part of winter steelhead fishing in Alaska. Conditions change and they change quickly. We packed up and headed home a little early because we had a long journey back home. As I hopped into the truck, I looked back at the river and thought to myself how I couldn’t wait until next year.