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Bears, wilderness, and Alaska are about as synonymous a combination as there ever was. One can virtually count on seeing one or more of the fur covered fishermen on any given day astream. It's a sharing experience few forget, often to the exclusion of the legendary fishing for which Alaska is rightfully famous.

No one forgets their first encounter with a bear. Even those who have spent considerable time anticipating the occasion is rarely really prepared for the actual experience. Funny thing...more often than not those who express the most concern about what to do when they do see their first wild bear turn out to be the ones that have to be pulled away from the river to allow the brute to mosey on by. It's his river...until he's gone.

Alaska is huge. Salmon, wild trout, Arctic char, grayling, and a host of other species make a fine assortment of quarry. All can (and quite adeptly do), challenge both anglers and tackle. Case in point: In the fabled Bristol Bay watershed a slim period of time around mid August affords a realistic opportunity for one to take all five of the six species of Pacific salmon - provided you have the mobility and stamina to go for them all. Granted, if all you ever want to see at the end of a leader is a beam bright fish fresh from the salt, you may well opt to forget about getting the salmon slam. No matter, Alaska has length and breadth enough to accommodate all comers with virtually any personal challenge to fulfill.

Indeed, anglers the world over make what can legitimately be called a pilgrimage to Alaska. Unquestionably, it is a piscatorial Mecca that is arguably without equal or peer. No matter from where anglers come, most know they will find quality fishing for wild fish as well as a quality fishing experience. Read the experience part as being seamlessly joined to often stunning scenery, abundant wildlife and a mother lode of solitude most people rarely experience anywhere else. All these potent ingredients are the reason so many anglers I've met over the years have told me they've become enamored with Alaska.

With so many recollections drifting about in my mind, another memory comes out the shadows - that of the lessons Alaska teaches about the face of wildness. From the window of a bush plane that very face looks up at me each time I travel to Alaska. It takes form the higher the plane flies above the patchwork quilt of tundra all stitched together by milk white lichens, sweetgale, crow berry, luethea and a myriad of other cushion plants and hardy trees.

As all glide by underneath the plane, the pocks of hundreds of shallow lakes mottle the rolling parts of the landscape, each faithfully mirrors Alaska's pale blue sky like huge saucers full of water. It is a congruous scene, some lakes choked with lily pads, others dotted sparingly with odd numbers of trumpeter swans. Other lakes yet, with darker bottoms, are visibly scarred by the erratic paths cut by grazing moose.

My perceptions of Alaska's landscape is not a personal peculiarity. I have often found co-passengers with their own faces pressed against the plane's windows, stared as benignly as I. Apparently, they're equally enthralled. Their thoughts are their own however, and I'm soon soothed by the drone of the plane's engine.

Chums

On this trip I'd come especially to meet chum salmon, an adversary many anglers seasoned in Alaska appreciate privately more often than publicly. Why that is so is a pretty good question. Perhaps others would rather chums remained a private secret. All I can tell you is a chum is one hot fish at the end of anyone's fishing gear.

As the pilot throttled back slightly to begin our descent I could see our destination on the horizon, threading it's way across the land, glistening like a neon snake. The Branch River is so named because it slices haphazardly across the tundra, randomly creating dozens of interconnected passages. Veterans of Bristol Bay's remarkable fisheries also know the Branch River as the Alagnak, one of the most productive rivers I've fished. During July, it is filled with fresh, ocean run salmon, many of them chum salmon, a fish the Alagnak hosts particularly well.

When working as a fishing guide in Alaska more than a decade ago I quickly learned that chums are one of the finest fish a flyrodder could ever hope would cross the path of a moving streamer. To the knowing, an eight weight rod and sink tip line makes an ideal companion when chums are on the move. All chums are Olympic class swimmers and virtuoso acrobats. On the Alagnak, chums are as aerial as the highly regarded silver salmon are, and run just as hard, if not harder. Comparably sized, an average Branch river chum is more than ten pounds heavy - enough bulk charged with ocean toned muscle to bend graphite to its design limits.

Chums live in the majority of Alaska's coastal waters from the far northern waters of the Bering Sea to Southeast Alaska. In numbers, the size of any chum run varies from river to river. Wherever you find them, they're powerful adversaries - on any kind of tackle.

Silvers

Silvers, or Coho salmon, have long been a favorite salmon of flyfishers. They are the last of the salmon species that invade Alaskan waters to spawn. They will readily take a streamer pattern and even large dry flies if presented to an undisturbed group milling about in a holding area. As large as twenty pounds, they pull hard and jump repeatedly before coming to hand. Handsome and silvery as their namesake implies they range from Southeast Alaska all the way north into watersheds entering Norton Sound. For anglers who wish to fish for big fall Alaskan rainbows, char and grayling, silvers are a superb bonus species that will delight anyone, no matter what kind of tackle they choose to fish with. Be sure to take a supply of mouse patterns with you for both silvers and out-sized rainbows.

Kings

King salmon, the largest of all Pacific salmon, usually begin their spawning run first, before all other salmon species. Attaining weights that occasionally exceed 100 pounds on the largest rivers, kings are generally deep, swift water spawners that average 25 to 50 pounds on most Alaskan rivers. They can be difficult to take on a fly, mostly because the deeper water they choose to do their business in is often tough to fish with a fly rod. They can occasionally be a challenge to entice even with spinning tackle. If found working in a clear, shallow river however, working flies to kings can be extremely exciting fishing. Kings have remarkable power and agility when confined by shallow water. In preferred habitat, kings like to sound in the deepest hole they can find. Once they find it they often hunker down and shake their heads to rid themselves of the annoyance of being hooked. Only a brutish sized 10 to 12 weight fly rod with a tough backbone will practically subdue a midsize king in heavy water. The take of a king is often very light, an almost imperceptible bump. With kings the catch phrase "You snooze you loose", definitely applies.

Sockeye Salmon

Sockeyes are the most abundant of all the Pacific salmon; their runs number in the millions as they thread their way up into the farthest reaches of every tributary branching off the spawning rivers they return to each year. Their preferred habitat includes the requirement that a sizable lake be part of the overall drainage. At the mouths of every stream entering a lake, hundreds to thousands can be seen schooled up in late June through July. Their bulk blackens the stream confluence like the shadow of a dense cloud. Seen from the air, the uninitiated cannot believe it when told that the shoal of darkness below is made up of fish. Should the pilot put down the float plane and taxi through that shadow, the mass of fish would part like the Red Sea in Biblical scriptures. The experience of being totally surrounded by fish can evoke spiritual thoughts.

Revered for their fare as a food fish, sockeye can be taken on flies rather handily when they are positioned upstream. Usually all that is required to get one on is a fly presented at the proper depth, that is to say, mouth depth. Fortunately, when you're onto sockeye, there are many many mouths to cast to. Usually, one of those mouths is going to be at the correct depth and find your offering too tempting to turn down. Fresh sockeye rarely move up or down to take a fly or lure. A favorite fly is a Polar Shrimp tied on number six to ten hooks.

Char

Of all the diverse fishing opportunities Alaska has to offer, one of the most overlooked species available to Alaska-bound anglers is the venerable Arctic char. Char are one of the most stubborn freshwater fighting fish to swim anywhere. Being connected to a 1O-LB plus char is nothing short of debilitating to a newcomer's psyche as few are ever prepared for what a char can do at the end of a line.

Several years ago I suggested that Denver anglers Tony Kay, John Aaron and Pete Parker needed to be introduced to char. They were a bit leery about spending a week in Alaska without fishing for rainbow trout. I could see that; after all, Alaska is home to an entirely wild population of purebred rainbows. Even after assuring my pals they would forget all about rainbows after hooking their first big char, they remained a little skeptical. Doubt aside, I felt I knew my companions well after years of fishing with them all over the world. I had a feeling they would agree to take a chance and go for it on my word.

The day we arrived at the lodge we had booked on the Alaskan Peninsula, I remained behind to shoot photos while the group went fishing. They crossed the river and headed up a small, swift channel on foot. Standing on the lodge's porch I watched Tony Kay make his first cast into the fast, shallow run I directed him to. I fully expected immediate action. The char didn't disappoint me.

On his first drift Tony hooked something big. Whatever it was immediately sliced angrily upstream. Even from such a distance it was plain he was groping for the drag control on his reel while struggling to hold the rod high overhead. The fly line left the reel within the first few seconds, backing unraveling in pursuit. The others quickly gathered around to get a look at what kind of differences. Most discernible is the absence of worm like markings (vermiculations) on their backs. Instead, char have various colored spots while sharing the same white leading edge on the lower fins as brook trout do. Char also have similar vibrantly colored bellies when in full spawning dress. When char arrive fresh from the ocean they are often silvery bright with barely any spotting. Soon after entering fresh water however, their characteristic markings reappear.

Arctic char will occasionally enter Southeast Alaskan rivers as early as May but usually later. They will generally be found in good numbers from July on with the most dependable fishing beginning around the middle of August and September in Southwest Alaska. Traditionally, November marks their spawning month, when some of the largest specimens are likely to be encountered. In the far north above the Arctic Circle, they spawn in September.

Char have been known to remain in fresh water for up to 14 months before spawning, a curious practice not shared by all char since most migrate into fresh water to spawn and get right to it. After spawning, char remain in fresh water over winter and then migrate out to salt water just after ice-out.

The Arctic char along Alaska's coastal areas are found both in salt water and fresh depending on time of year. They migrate in schools of roughly the same-sized fish and generally stay together during their migrations When in a river or stream they generally occupy the same stretch of river, reluctant to separate. When you locate a group of them the fishing can be spectacular with the right equipment and flies and a reasonable ability to get the flies to them. In swift, heavy water a sinking tip fly line like Jim Teeny's Nymphline is ideal A lead-core shooting head would also work but isn't as easy to handle. In water only a couple of feet deep a floating line works well with weighted flies.

In spring char move into salt water after wintering in fresh water, They feed heavily on salmon smolts traveling to the ocean and generally rely on a variety of forage fish and shrimp to sustain themselves until it is time to follow migrating salmon back into fresh water again to feed on salmon roe. Char can live to be more than 20 years old and weigh in at upwards of 30 pounds. In smaller streams char will often feed on aquatic insects and rise freely to dry flies when the conditions are right. Finding and getting into char consistently depends on the time of year you happen to fish and where you choose to go. I prefer to fish them in the fall months when they are primed out and preparing to winter over in fresh water. Even so, spring fishing during the smolt run is a time when bone-jarring strikes commonly come fast and furiously.

Of all Arctic salmonids, Arctic char have cousins that look so much like themselves that it often takes a biologist to tell them apart. The Dolly Varden is a char whose range overlaps that of Arctic char along much of Alaska's coast. In Alaska they are generally smaller than Arctic char, although Dollies to 30 pounds have been documented elsewhere in the world. On light tackle, Dolly Varden are superb fighters, taking much the same fare as Arctic char, including dry flies.

Rainbows, Steelhead, Sheefish and Arctic Grayling

Rainbows

Of course, any discussion about Alaska's rich fish bounty would not be complete without words about rainbows, steelhead, sheefish and Arctic grayling. As with salmon, all are as abundant as they are wild. However, as with salmon, where these fish can be found in any given waterway at any given time is sometimes a challenge. Generally, where you find one, you'll find others.

Rainbows occupy much of Alaska's waters as far north as the Kanektok river north of Bristol Bay. The largest and most abundant numbers of rainbows are found within Bristol Bay's many watersheds. The Naknek, the Nushagak drainage, Togiak and dozens of other smaller rivers connecting the systems of lakes such as the Wood River -Tikchik Lakes region and the Iliamna and Naknek Lake region are home to rainbows of epic proportions and legendary strength.

Before the salmon runs begin in spring rainbow fishing can be positively awesome. Salmon smolts out-migrating to the ocean become a main food source of large rainbows lean from winter. They're often silvery and devoid of spots when they first follow the smolts out of the lakes, looking more like steelhead than resident trout. During early fall, beginning about mid-August in the Bristol Bay area, silver salmon begin their up river run to spawn. This is when the feeding patterns of rainbows change from a summer long diet of salmon roe to that of a more carnivorous brand. At this time, Alaska begins its transition to winter. The majority of sockeye salmon have completed spawning and have died, fulfilling their destiny. Their bodies now litter the banks of each stream and hanging weather patterns begin to deposit the first snows on the mountain tops.

Also, Alaska's rainbow country begins to experience nighttime again. When the sun emerges in the morning, the new snows accumulating at altitude melt, causing fluctuations in river flows. The fall season rise and fall of river flows wash the dead sockeyes back into the rivers and streams. Tumbling over river obstructions break the expired salmon bodies apart, literally into shards of flesh, nourishing the river and it's resident fish. Especially, the broken bodies of these salmon are what Alaska's rainbows gorge on to help sustain them through the winter months. It's a primordial exercise in survival and one of the premier opportunities for an angler to take a wild rainbow in prime condition. Certainly, this is when the venerable fish of a lifetime becomes available and can be brought to hand to admire. They are magnificent.

Steelhead

Alaska's steelhead fishing opportunities are widespread. Their range spans Southeast to South-central Alaska. Generally, when these great fish enter fresh water the anglers of summer have long departed, or, have yet to arrive. Late winter and early spring in Southeast Alaska offer anglers the chance to fish to larger steelies. The months of November, February and March on Prince of Wales Island near Ketchikan is an excellent destination. Steelhead running as large as twenty pounds can be fished for on the island's smallish rivers. All are relatively easy to read so many experienced anglers go there on their own, rent a vehicle and drive to any of the nine island streams that host steelhead. Fall runs see generally smaller fish, but not by much.

In the Wrangell Mountain area, the Stikine River has yielded some of the largest Steelhead Alaska has to offer. The Situk river near Yakatat is easy to get to and offers sight fishing to steelhead amidst fantastic scenery.

In Southwest Alaska, Kodiak Island and it's Karluk River offer superb steelhead fishing in the fall. The Afognak and Portage Rivers on Afognak Island rate high as well.

In South-central Alaska near Anchorage, Deep Creek, the Anchor and Ninilchik Rivers are best fished during fall. Mid-October is considered prime time to go for them.

Grayling

The diminutive Arctic grayling is also called the sailfish of the north. Wide ranging, these superb fly rod fish readily take a dry fly. The largest to be found in Alaska are in the Ugashik Lake region on the landmass connecting the mainland to the Alaskan Peninsula. Abundant even in the interior of Alaska, these resident fish can often be found in small groups lingering behind spawning salmon where they compete with rainbows for a share of salmon eggs that roll out of spawning redds. They are a delight on ultra light spinning gear or light fly rods.

Sheefish

Perhaps the most unique and least fished for Alaskan fish species is the Inconnu, or sheefish. Growing to sixty pounds, this anadromous fish is often regarded as the "tarpon of the north". Sheefish are acrobatic, furious fighters with a reputation of being able to bend rods into impossible shapes. The largest are found in the Kobuk River, the farthest north river they are found in. The Kobuk, just south of the Brooks Range, flows through some of the wildest country on earth. The Selawik River, just south of the Kobuk, also hosts large sheefish. The Kuskokwim, which flows past the town of Bethel, is the southern most river sheefish can be taken in.

However you visit Alaska or for whatever species of fish you go for, expect an experience that will truly be memorable. Undoubtedly, you'll return with a much deeper appreciation for what wild fish and what a quality coldwater resource is all about. Just remember...keep a sharp eye focused for the fisherman with the heavy fur coat on.

© Copyright, 1997 by Tony Oswald All rights reserved - This article or the images that accompany it may not be copied or distributed by any means, mechanical or electronic without permission from the author. info@worldangler.com