Jazzed after seeing great pictures of bright Pacific NW coho on Dan Blanton’s Bulletin Board, I returned to SE Alaska after missing the last two trips. Sure I went for the coho, but a big part of the trip was also to visit with our friend, Rich, who transplanted himself here from Marin decades ago. Over the years, Rich has shown us the ropes and has become a brother. Rich is a fly fishing pro whose stick of choice is 12′4″ or longer and requires two hands.

This annual DIY trip with my brother, Rene (Jess couldn’t make it this year) had me up sipping coffee as early as 4:30am on some days and, at times, I was pulling off my waders at 8:30pm. The typical program is to wade the salty estuary for coho that are milling around and headed for the local hatchery as well as to fish the short supply of freshwater creeks for wild coho.

In the salt, I fished a 9-wt Orvis TLS Power Matrix threaded with a Cortland intermediate shooting head and a stripping basket clipped around my waist. I threw both long and short casts blind as well as to showing fish. This year, my brother, Rene, finally conceded that having a stripping basket is key. Rich used a 2-handed rod to consistently throw 100-ft plus casts with relative ease.

On day one, there were some 3-5 lbs fish mixed in, but the average size of the fish was 8-12 lbs. The ‘go to’ fly was a standard 3-in bead-chain clouser in chartreuse/white, and with the exception of the day of the storm, the saltwater bite was better than any I could remember.

The fish didn’t typically slam the fly, but rather, they picked it up on the move, so that you feel the take with your stripping hand, set the hook, and if it’s a chromer, you then feel the slow throbs at the end of your line caused by the suspended snake-like writhing of the fish. Then, it’s game on.

Usually, these fish will initially run toward you, so you’re stripping, stripping, stripping to keep the tension, but when the fish senses the skinny water, it begins its wild surface antics, somersaults and goes on powerful runs that coho are known for. To land the fish, you drag them onto shore, and if you’re keeping these hatchery fish, you rip the gills out to bleed them. It’s absolutely barbaric. However, if you don’t, your fillets will have veins still full of blood.

I enjoyed watching the wakes and swirls of agile sea lions in hot pursuit of a bright coho as well as the graceful flight of the bald eagles above. But when you see the bobbing head of up to 10 sea lions facing you, you better put your game face back on because a big school of coho is cruising between you and the sea lions.

We saw tide swings of up to 17.7-ft and found fish during both the outgoing and the incoming. If you take too long tying fly to tippet or untangling your shooting line, you’ll notice a difference of about 6-inches in water level when you look up. Many of the locals use snagging rigs and concentrate on the falling low tide. The crowds tended to evacuate at the bottom of the low, which meant that we had the place to ourselves for the incoming tide.

But for Rich etal, it’s all about casting to wild coho in a creek that requires hiking a couple of miles down to where the fish would rest once they breathe freshwater. This creek winds through dense forest and vegetation, where the brown bears are thick. But the fish are still chrome bright, much larger size and the fishing is technical. Ideally, you can time the hike so that you’re at the holes within a couple of hours after a high tide.

The coho seeks slower water (aka holes, pools, buckets, edges) that is usually protected by submerged or partially submerged timber. Having a friend who points out the holes and jams is very helpful. But even then, you end the day with 1/2 of your fly box missing, a severely depleted supply of leader material or worse, in need of buying another head. During the first session on the creek, I fished with a 9-wt intermediate shooting head looped to an 8-ft T14 tip, 6-ft leader and the Orvis TLS Power Matrix. I hooked, but farmed (lost) one fish using a bunny leach fly. As for the 2-handed flyrodders (Rich, Chris), let’s just say they did much better! Like, much, much better.

On the creek and during the ride home, Rich gave me a lesson on traditional, skagit and scandi style flyrodding. With that in mind, I returned a few days later with my 9-wt Sage RPLX threaded with a Rio Outbound Short Floater looped to a 13-ft T14 tip and a 3-ft leader. It was not a skagit head, but it definitely helped me navigate around the obstacles of submerged timber and I was able to roll cast more effectively. I fished quartering down and across, and if I stripped the fly, it was before and in lieu of a swing. I ended up catching and releasing three beauties before the water level began to rise from the recent storm and discolored. The water rose so fast that it had us scrambling to find an alternate section to wade safely across the creek.

My take home message was that the 2-handed rod is 10X more effective than the single-handed rod in a creek/river scenario where back casts are non-existent, a heavy sink tip is required to present your fly at the right depth and navigating your fly through narrow lanes is key. I’m sold and will have to learn how to use the 2-handed rod before next year’s trip.

I also waded a beautiful salt chuck ringed with pointed trees. Here, I found wild fish willing to eat a 3-in Magic Bullet style fly, dressed for coho, using craft fur and presented with an intermediate shooting head. For me catching fish is great, but catching a fish on a unique fly that you concoct is the ultimate. The retrieve was slower 4-6-inch, intermittent strips since the action of craft fur is most appealing when fished slowly.

The last place I fished was the confluence of a slow, low and clear creek and a turbid glacial river. Here, there is a hole that all the chromers find perfect for resting. It’s also a hole locals can reach with ease before and/or after work. Because of the fishing pressure, the program is to get up at an ungodly hour, switch on the headlamp, avoid the local black bears and get to the hole for first shot at fresh fish. As the day unfolds, other fishermen trample in and the fish become wary. The fish begin to mill about mostly with lock jaw, they drop down to the turbid glacial river or they scatter into the trees. At this point, fly selection and presentation become important since you’re competing with eight or more spin and fly fishermen. Whereas some were casting big, hot pink spinners, I chose light chartreuse comets with a long supple tail. Whereas some fished quartering down and swinging, I fished quartering up and stripping down. I think I may have figured something out as I landed and released up to 10 wild fish and farmed another six, all in the 10-15 lbs range.

Second only to the lesson on 2-handed flyrodding, an important lesson of the trip was when I farmed 3 fish on 3 casts. After the 3rd lost fish, I looked and found the hook on the bunny leach bent out and swore to only fish with good hooks.

The scenery is spectacular here, but this trip is not the typical AK fly-out or AK lodge experience. Here, you’re staying at the Best Western. You’re driving yourself to the water and to the quickstop that has great chili. You’re cleaning, filleting and vacuum sealing your own fish. And, in some cases, you’re fishing water that seems to be getting more pressure than I remember from the years past, including pressure from snaggers at the saltwater spots that used to be where only a handful of fly flinging comrades would concentrate. Fishing etiquette becomes a topic of discussion as you learn the term and even experience being “claim jumped” which is a little like the Rockport, TX term “high holed.” It’s not for everyone, but it’s a trip we’ve enjoyed for so many years because, among other reasons, Rich and his family have become part of our family.