There’s an ‘In’ Way to Experience Alaska Salmon Fishing

There’s fly fishing. That’s for experts.

And then there’s fly- in fishing.

That can be for experts, too, but it works real well for city people from the Lower 48 who would like to try catching a salmon even if they haven’t fished since they were 8 years old.

For about $200, a plane will fly you for a day of fishing at one of probably a hundred lodges that dot south-central Alaska. If the price seems high, remember it includes a private plane flight that might cost that much anyway--just for the view.

The fly-in day-trip I took was to Lake Creek Lodge, which--with accommodations for 60 overnight guests--calls itself the largest fly-in lodge in the state. It is northwest of Anchorage at the convergence of the glacier-fed Yentra River and Lake Creek, which by Southern California standards is practically a river.

The flight began at Lake Hood, which is one of the busiest airports in the world although it’s only a pond. Float planes, as they are called here, are parked around the shore like cars at a drive-in. Something like one in every 50 Alaskans has a pilot’s license, so be careful to choose a licensed charter company. There are many.

Once you leave Anchorage, you are suddenly out into the vast wilderness that is Alaska. Beneath you are miles of soggy tundra, which looks from above like a northern version of the Everglades with moose instead of alligators.

As soon as we left Anchorage, I saw nothing man-made except an oil pipeline. Below were lakes that came in colors. Brilliant aquamarine pools caught in glacial ice. Brown lakes in the tundra laden with creosote and tannin. Blue lakes that seemed oddly ordinary by contrast.

When the plane started down, there was nothing below but a broad river the color of cement, which means it carries glacial silt or finely ground rock.

Then, all of a sudden, I saw 19 motorboats huddled together where a clear stream flowed into the gray water. That, of course, was right where we were going.

“Looks like Hong Kong down there,” the pilot said.

This wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

“There are no real secrets left in Alaska,” said Paul Bowen, a former banker who with his wife, Lisa, owns the lodge. “You can fly deep into the interior and wherever there’s good fishing, you’ll find people.”

First preconception down the drain. (Along the Kenai River, where Chinook salmon have reached 100 pounds, lines of fishermen stand literally shoulder to shoulder at peak season, rhythmically casting so as to avoid tangling their lines.)

My second preconception was that there is an art to fishing for salmon known only to experienced salmon fishermen. (While that’s partially true, it’s also true that there’s an art to driving on a freeway, and there are plenty of people who know how to do that.) My guide, Tom Kreinheder, has led Lake Creek raft and fishing trips for a decade and was funny, knowledgeable and determined.

On one-day fly-in trips like this, they assume you have no gear and no experience. They give you a boat, which you’re likely to share with someone else, and a guide who will set up your gear for you. They also give you rubber boots and rain gear.

Though the weather was indeed rainy, I didn’t mind; if water couldn’t reach my skin, then neither could mosquitoes. This has been the worst mosquito season in a decade. They’re largely gone by August, however.

The reason there were so many people in one place, Kreinheder explained, is that the fish swim dozens of miles upstream against a strong current, then turn at the scent of freshwater and linger in the still water just below the creek where they were born.

Salmon don’t eat once they leave the ocean and head upstream into fresh water to spawn. So you don’t give them bait, you annoy them with flashy, brightly colored lures with BBs in them called wigglewarts. So many salmon are heading upstream in season that one may literally bump into your lure, lash out at it and chomp on your hook.

It was a little frustrating to sit there feeling that there was nothing much you could do butwait for a big fish to get mad at you on his way home.

Lots of fish were caught that morning, but our boat went into lunch empty-handed.

There are five kinds of Pacific salmon: Chinook or King salmon, Sockeye or Red, Silver, Pink, and Chum or Dog salmon. The Chinook come early in the season, from May through mid-July in most parts of Alaska, so King season is over.

Sockeye, Silver and Pink season is in full swing now. Dog salmon begin coming in about mid-August. Their name comes from the fact that they are the traditional food for huskies.

In most creeks there are also trout and Arctic grayling.

After lunch, we headed up into Lake Creek itself. This was more like it. A beautiful, clear creek with almost no people. We jettisoned our treble hooks for the single hook the law requires in spawning streams, and back-trolled along the bank, Tom at the motor. If there had been a fish in there, we would have caught it.

It wasn’t until late afternoon, when we moved back toward the river and began fishing in a deep, still inlet, that we started to get some bites.

That, of course, was just when the float plane landed to take me home. The only salmon I went home with was one Tom gave me because he’s sick of eating salmon by now.

As I was leaving, the lodge was filling up for dinner with people from Maine, Oklahoma, Washington, Germany, Austria, the Netherlands and Switzerland. Men and a handful of women. Good wine was being served. Salmon that had gotten mad at somebody’s wigglewart an hour before were on the table. Home-baked lemon pies were laid out for dessert.

The Sand Bar, complete with a TV tuned to a baseball game, was crowded with a dozen people. One group was playing poker in a corner. A woman alone could feel completely comfortable here. The atmosphere was convivial.

Most people did catch fish at Lake Creek that day. If I had it to do again, however, I would stay three days. The fly-in one-day trip was $225. Two days and one night is $560, a week costs $1,690.

Another highly recommended lodge on closer-in Alexander Creek, called Gabbert’s Camp--which offers a hot tub--is $460 for two days. That sounded a little too “L.A.” for my taste, but I bet the chlorine repels the mosquitoes.

If you want total wilderness, float planes will fly you to about any lake or river and pick you up again. But you’ll have to have your own equipment, guess at the fishing and pray the pilot doesn’t forget where he dropped you.

Other services leave you at sheds that contain equipment and pick you up on your schedule. There are also vans that will drive you to salmon rivers nearer Anchorage for $65. The only problem is that you spend half the day in a car.

At the other end of the scale are lodges that can cost from $3,000 to $5,000 per person per week. A couple of the best known are Valhalla Lodge in western Alaska, which offers, among other amenities, rack of lamb and crepes, and Chelatna Lake Lodge, which movie studios have rented for management getaways.

Don’t count on the fish being a bargain. Having your catch packed for the trip home can cost more than merely buying some nice little filets at Irvine Ranch Market.

In all, I figured my 10-pound Chinook cost about $24 a pound.