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800 Miles to Empty

May 1, 2008

A True Legend…Darkness at last
JOHN: Our final day together began at Skilak Lake. At the back side of Skilak is the Swan Refuge, the gateway to a killer stretch of the Kenai. We had launched behind Billy's brother Carl (aka Fat Back), another Troutfitters guide, and a boatload of clients. After a couple of hours casting and drifting, we saw Fat Back motoring back upriver past us, presumably to make another pass at a stretch of river. As we floated by I noticed him making some kind of discreet hand signals in J-Rock's direction.

No sooner had Carl motored out of sight around the bend than J-Rock got serious. "Alright, get ready. There's a legend up ahead." Apparently Fat Back had tipped J-Rock off to the location of a magnum rainbow. It was in a spot that traditionally held good fish, and as we approached I flipped my egg into the water and prepared to make the perfect drift through the zone. Sure enough, just as my line got perpendicular to the boat, the indicator vanished. I lifted the rod and the fight was on. What ensued was nearly a half hour of sizzling runs and dogged determination by both the fish and myself. Will and I did the fish-fight tango as he dodged me while I moved all around the boat in an effort to maintain tension on the line and keep the fish from running up to Skilak. J-Rock's rowing mastery was on full display as he kept me in the game. Just when I thought my wrists and forearms couldn't take it anymore, the fish came to net and Will put the brute in the boat. The 'bow measured 28 inches. A legend indeed.
 
WILL: I had to catch a flight to Denver, so John dropped me off at the airport before heading to Talkeetna for some king salmon fishing—but not before a stop at the Great Alaska Bush Company. If you are unfamiliar with the Bush Co., let's put it this way: It has nothing to do with horticulture. We were watching SportsCenter at the bar when the screens went dark, as did all the lights in the joint. It was a blackout. After 20 minutes, it was apparent the power wasn't coming back on soon, so we took off.

Going It Alone…The King and I
JOHN: After parting ways with Will at the terminal, I picked my way through downtown Anchorage, trying to find Highway 1 north to Talkeetna. This was not as easy at it should have been. People flooded the streets as they hit the stores to stock up on provisions. Traffic laws were abandoned outright. Apparently, without traffic lights, everyone completely forgets how to drive.

When I finally made it to Talkeetna, I slept for three hours before meeting Bob Chlupach of Denali Anglers (907-733-1505; www.alaska.net/~valser/fishak.htm). I would fish with Bob for two days on the Talkeetna and Susitna rivers. The fishing was slower than what Will and I had experienced on the Kenai Peninsula—lots of back trolling and tossing big plugs on spinning tackle. But I managed to land a 40-pound king on the second day, so I had some meat to bring home. It was a good way to close out what had been a week of ever-present daylight, perpetual exhaustion and some of the best damn fishing adventures two guys could possibly ask for.

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