Alaska & Ukon Recon |
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Alaska & Ukon Recon
Reed Morisky, our guide, knew exactly where to steer his 21-foot aluminum jet boat deep into the remote Tanana River. Although only about 30 miles from Fairbanks, no trace of civilization could be detected anywhere – no other boats, cars, airplanes or sounds of mankind. We felt the exhilaration and angst that hangs in the blood when journeying to remote locations where there’s no help even in an emergency. Morisky cut the engine and we drifted into the mouth of a small tributary densely lined with trees and underbrush. “Don’t move your feet or create any noise,” he whispered with a finger to his lips, “and look right over there.” The astonishment on my face and companions Kelly Braden, Michael Kelly and Ted Braden could only be described as total wonder and excitement. Dozens of king salmon in the 10- to 40-pound class faced into the gentle current in the clear five-foot, glacier-fed waters. They floated effortlessly in place, almost appearing to be lifeless. These kings – also known as chinook salmon – had unerringly traveled 750 miles via a series of rivers from the ocean to gather at this particular spot. Displaying the copper to reddish tint indicative of spawning salmon, these lucky ones successfully passed through a series of bear gauntlets, jumped steep rocky falls and at times overcame swift up-current rapids in order to arrive here safely. Morisky positioned the boat to the side and slightly behind the throng of fish, which didn’t seem at all spooked by our presence. By so doing, we could cast ahead of the salmon and let our spoons sliver toward them in the manner of something resembling an appetizer floating out of the forest. Without any delay, a 20-pounder spotted my offering and in a fit of competitive zeal dashed to it ahead of its brethren. We could witness it all: the fish detecting a possible breakfast and getting all excited, zipping to the lure and suctioning the faux minnow into its mouth, and the hook-up rattling it to its very bones. Fortunately the suddenly crazed chinook sped away from the other fish. The 12-pound-test spin tackle provided enough resistance to do the job, with few underwater branches or other hang-up points to contest. Morisky handled the release, the first of several on spoons and also large black lead-eye fly patterns. Later in a small creek with winding corners, swirls and eddies, we caught over a dozen small but spunky Arctic grayling on 4-pound tackle and fly. Deep Into the InteriorOur 10-day dream trip began once arriving in Anchorage, Alaska. Amazingly, we easily stuffed all our luggage and gear into the back of our rented four-wheel drive Toyota Sequoia SUV, leaving ample seating room. It would turn out to be a good choice of vehicle for taking on the steep terrain and winding mountain roads to come. It didn’t take long to see wildlife. The drive along the Parks Highway to Denali rewarded us with a view of a black bear in a meadow less than 100 yards from the roadside. Farther into the journey, a fox darted across the road just ahead of us. We also stopped at several overlooks to admire the impossibly beautiful mountainous vistas. 
After checking into the beautiful and sprawling McKinley Chalet property near the entrance to Denali National Park, Michael and Ted walked to the nearby Nenana River. They saw a moose and her calf nonchalantly munching grass at the water’s edge. Rafters also paddled by, waving at occasional passersby and, I’m sure, watchful of feeding bears that might be in their path. Early the next morning we clambered aboard a tour bus that drove to a small former gold-mining town called Kantishna at the end of the 95-mile two-way-traffic road – directly in the heart of the six-million-acre Denali National Park. After only about 15 miles, the rest of the park can only be accessed by bus, special permit or small aircraft landing at the Kantishna Airstrip. This amazing 12-hour roundtrip journey – at times precariously close to the sheer drop-off edges of the two-way, mainly dirt mountain road – featured narration by the driver guide as well as a park ranger near Kantishna. We toured the historic cabin of Fannie Quigley, a Gold Rush-era pioneer and earthy frontier woman. Nothing quite prepared us for the virtual real-life slideshow of wildlife this day and also Mt. McKinley, which shimmered majestically in the sunlight rather than hidden behind gray clouds as is usually the case. There, right before our eyes and at times literally at the side of the road, we viewed grizzly bears, herds of caribou, a moose frolicking in a pond, a fox, Dall’s sheep, eagles and even a porcupine. Only the typically shy wolf failed to put in an appearance. The stay that night at the Denali Grizzly Bear Resort turned out to be a real treat. Our cabin on the side of a hill facing the Nenana River featured a narrow dirt path at the bottom next to the waterline. While standing on the balcony, I went totally bonkers at the sight of a small bear scampering along the path – how special it is to so commonly behold varieties of wildlife and post-card scenery. More than Fair in FairbanksI can only say that our next stop in Fairbanks exceeded all expectations. It began right off the bat when we arrived from Denali to Pike’s Waterfront Lodge. The big lobby filled with bear mounts, antlers and a rustic log-cabin design really got us into the frontier mood. On the very first evening as we stood overlooking the river near our cabin, a beaver frolicked right before us before swimming to the other side.
An area set up for gold panning got our attention, and the colors (small gold flakes) we found later decorated a unique personal necklace in the gift shop. On day two in Fairbanks, we drove about 25 miles northeast to the home and fish camp of guide Joe Letarte. Nestled directly on the Chena River that also eventually flows through Fairbanks, we climbed aboard his yellow 20-foot raft along with Joe and mate James Lammering. What a memorable experience. We quietly drifted down current with Joe paddling and steering. The cool air on our faces felt good as we enjoyed the swirling river water and admired magnificent trees with bald eagles perched here and there. Joe outfitted us with ultra-light 4-pound tackle using small spinner baits and jigs for our target: Arctic grayling. Grayling sport a really distinctive dorsal fin and fight like fish three times their size. We all caught the writhing gamesters in waters that varied from one to 12 feet deep. “They like hanging in deeper holes, so just work the lure slowly into a hole,” advised Joe. “Best conditions will be when the river is low and water clear like it is now, so fish can see lures or flies better.” He also spoke of days when spawning king salmon stacked up in the river and trophy-size pike filled mountain tributaries and ponds. Early in the season, cutthroat and rainbow trout will hungrily pounce on most small flies too. Incidentally, we did not confront any bears while fishing with Joe or Reed. They do carry bear spray and high-powered handguns for insurance. I do likewise where legal with a Smith & Wesson .500-calibre magnum handgun and .350-grain Hornady bullets – which can handle anything. As with Joe and Reed, I’ve fortunately never had to use it as bears tend to run away from people or at least leave them alone. As hard as it was to leave Fairbanks, we looked forward to continuing on our trek to Tok (pronounced “Toke”). On the way – like all good tourists – we made sure to not pass the official town of North Pole, where children’s worldwide mail to Santa ends up. Laden with souvenirs from a huge gift shop, a few hours later we made it to Tok. What we figured would be just a stopover town on our way to Dawson City in the Yukon, Tok turned out to be a little gem of a place. Besides a nice stay-over at the Golden Bear Motel, the town oozed with character. We feasted at a salmon bake restaurant that night and enjoyed a fantastic breakfast the next morning at the hotel’s cafe. Remembering my previous phone chat with Golden Bear owner Jim Jenkins, he’d advised that the streams and mountains 20 or so miles outside of town bore good lodes of gold. And so we slinked away after dinner, our trusty Garrett Infinium LS and Scorpion Gold Stinger metal detectors in hand as well as a riffled gold pan. We returned with a small bottle filled with gold dust and several small nuggets – all found in about two hours – but more about hunting for gold is forthcoming.
Call of the YukonNothing can prepare one for the challenging, arduous and white-knuckle experience of driving the 187 miles of mostly dirt road on the narrow Top of the World Highway from Tok to Dawson City in Yukon Territory, Canada. Suffice it to say I found little room for comfort when passing a truck or bus on blind mountain bends or contending with steep down-slopes. At times I crept along at only 10 miles per hour or less in our trusty Sequoia that remained in four-wheel-drive mode all day. We made a pit stop before the border in Chicken – a flyspeck of a community that mostly serves as a snack- and bathroom-break outpost for highway travelers. Nonetheless, I bought the requisite magnet here to add to my scores of others at home on the refrigerator. Continuing on and crossing the Canadian border, we all remained silent, totally spellbound by the magnificent mountains, valleys, colorful red fireweed patches and occasional animal sightings. You must take a free car ferry across the Yukon River to ultimately reach Dawson City. We managed that and checked into the Triple J Hotel, a rustic inn reminiscent of the Klondike Gold Rush atmosphere here. In 1896, three gold panners worked their claim in what was then Rabbit Creek (now Bonanza Creek), a tributary of the Klondike River and near Dawson City. The men discovered one of the richest concentrations of gold dust and nuggets ever found.
The first afternoon found us fishing the Yukon River. Triple J Hotel owner Brad Whitelaw – a great host and ambassador of the community – and daughter Sadie took off in one boat with locals Frank Kormeney and Tom McCullan. Kelly, Michael and I fished in Richard Nagano’s skiff. Nagano, a lifelong resident who swears he wouldn’t live anywhere else, guided us to catches of exotic whitefish – some reach 20 pounds and more – as well as Arctic grayling and those now-familiar spawning king salmon. At times we drifted or anchored, always casting half-ounce green lures and gold spoons. At one point we spotted a female moose swimming across the river. Giving her some distance, she watched us warily before reaching the shoreline, shaking off and loping into the forest. The following day centered on gold. Yes, I admit to an incurable affliction of gold fever, and no one so smitten should ever come to Dawson City and not take a drive to the very site of the gold strike in Bonanza Creek some 111 years ago. We also took in a tour of Goldbottom, a real working gold mine owned by the Millar family. All of us learned a great deal about the challenges and fortunes of mining. We also panned right in front of their main camp and found colors galore. Unforgettable VistasIt’s a long drive from Dawson City to Glennallen, Alaska – but oh so beautiful. Only someone totally without interest in natural beauty could possibly remain unaffected by the magnificent scenery. By day’s end I pulled into the Caribou Hotel and we met owners Mary and Brad Kriner for dinner. Brad, who works during the spring and summer season as a guide, regaled us about the king salmon fishing that peaks hereabouts from mid-June to mid-July. Only the day before, his party of three caught 24 kings averaging 25 to 35 pounds. He added that some kings reach up to 50 pounds in the nearby glacier-fed Klutina stream. Other target species in the area include grayling and rainbow trout throughout the summer, with Brad commenting that September and early October usually present about 25 rainbows a day up to 28 inches in length and steelhead to well over 30 inches. Before retiring, we followed Brad’s directions to a mountain overlook just up the highway. It’s the most astonishing view any of us ever witnessed, and that’s no exaggeration. We stood upon a cliff where in the distance the splendorous Wrangell Mountains reflected the summer sun off its peaks; directly below, the Copper River meandered through a vast green meadow. What a serene moment.
You and I have been to many great countries and regions around the world. Some get so built up that once there, we’re often let down. I promise that that will not happen if you retrace our journey. Go to Alaska and the Yukon, enjoy the fishing, phenomenal scenery and even try your hand at gold prospecting. Like us, it’s a trip that will go down as the best you ever experienced. Doug Kelly, Editor-in-Chief of Destination Fish, lives in Tampa, Florida. Although he wishes he fished a tenth as much as everyone seems to think, his occasional trips into the hinterlands and remote regions of the world serve as sufficient motivation to stay the course. The astonishment on my face and companions Kelly Braden, Michael Kelly and Ted Braden could only be described as total wonder and excitement. Dozens of king salmon in the 10- to 40-pound class faced into the gentle current in the clear five-foot, glacier-fed waters. They floated effortlessly in place, almost appearing to be lifeless. These kings – also known as chinook salmon – had unerringly traveled 750 miles via a series of rivers from the ocean to gather at this particular spot. Displaying the copper to reddish tint indicative of spawning salmon, these lucky ones successfully passed through a series of bear gauntlets, jumped steep rocky falls and at times overcame swift up-current rapids in order to arrive here safely. Morisky positioned the boat to the side and slightly behind the throng of fish, which didn’t seem at all spooked by our presence. By so doing, we could cast ahead of the salmon and let our spoons sliver toward them in the manner of something resembling an appetizer floating out of the forest. Without any delay, a 20-pounder spotted my offering and in a fit of competitive zeal dashed to it ahead of its brethren. We could witness it all: the fish detecting a possible breakfast and getting all excited, zipping to the lure and suctioning the faux minnow into its mouth, and the hook-up rattling it to its very bones. Fortunately the suddenly crazed chinook sped away from the other fish. The 12-pound-test spin tackle provided enough resistance to do the job, with few underwater branches or other hang-up points to contest. Morisky handled the release, the first of several on spoons and also large black lead-eye fly patterns. Later in a small creek with winding corners, swirls and eddies, we caught over a dozen small but spunky Arctic grayling on 4-pound tackle and fly. Where To Toss The BagsMajor carriers connect to Anchorage as well as Alaska Airlines. The highways leading to Denali, Fairbanks, Tok and Glennallen are well-maintained hard-tops with excellent signage. The Top of the World Highway (not open during winter months) from Tok to Dawson City can be dicey – drive cautiously and you’ll be just fine. During the short Alaska and Yukon tourism season from May to August, many of the hotels get completely booked months or even a year in advance. Don’t depend upon finding decent accommodations without advance reservations. I highly recommend the lodges where we stayed during our trip. We also dined at each of their restaurants and came away quite satisfied at the selection of Alaskan seafood and traditional offerings. I include other recommended restaurants for some areas:
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Two years later, news of the strike reached the outside world. Little Dawson City suddenly became the epicenter for over 30,000 would-be prospectors. Practically overnight sprang hotels, bars, dancing halls and more than a few earthy characters among those filling the “streets paved with gold.” Although those exciting frontier days have long passed, Dawson City still carries on hand-in-hand with an unending identity to that seminal portion of its history. 
