You may recall that thoracic surgeon Dr. Jon Boyum, MD and Honorary Homey, invited his dad, Homey Bill Boyum, and me to join him in Alaska for a research project involving sockeye salmon on the Kenai River last summer. At first, I was under the impression that we were going to count sockeye salmon as they went up the Kenai, but when the word “salmon” was first mentioned I lost track of what might have actually been said. Bill and I called this a “bucket-list” adventure.
At any rate, we convened a year ago at Anchorage International Airport. We piled into Dr. Jon’s rental car and pointed it south toward the town of Soldotna on the Kenai Peninsula, as he filled us in on what to expect.
We were headed to the he Kenai River – the most heavily-fished river in Alaska, for salmon of several different stripes. Over the last decade or so, the river gets an average of 275,000 angler-days (one person fishing for any part of one day is an angler-day) each year. John warned us to expect “combat fishing,” with crowds of fishers lining the river. We caught fewer fish than Jon had in previous years, but we caught nice fish and brought home a bit over 60 pounds of filets to bring home.
We did it again. Here we were a couple weeks ago, moving briskly southward toward Soldotna and our temporary home – a cozy cabin at the Red Fish Lodge. Gramma Marcia welcomed us on behalf of Steve and Lea Stuber, we piled our stuff into the cabin, grabbed our gear and headed to the river.
Somewhere in there, Bill reached out to John Wensley, an old friend from early DNR days, now retired from teaching and living over in the town of Kenai. Maybe we could all get together.
First, though, there was fishing. These sockeye do not grab a bait or lure in the traditional sense (Heaven only knows how we actually catch them), rather, we use a hook with a bit of brightly colored floss bounced for some short distance along the bottom near river’s edge. When it seems you have a snag, but the snag moves, you attempt to hook the fish. If by some chance a fish is hooked outside the jaw or behind the gills, it is foul-hooked and must be released. My vision of all this is that the fish snap at our floss as it tickles their noses or jaws. There is much to be said about these beautiful, shiny, and delicious six to 13-pound red salmon. Bill and I both have a preference for fishing for critters that actually take a bait and run, but once you find the groove, and present your flossy hook successfully, the whole experience is very seductive and habit-forming.
We found fewer fishers and fewer fish this year than last. Season total into the Kenai was 1,700,000 last year, with about 1,200,000 this year. Daily counts were at their highest just before and just after our days on the river. Those highs of about 52,000 were well below the 2015 highs of 75,000. During our five days, 17,000 to 35,000 fish entered the river daily. (Fewer fish coming in means fewer fishers on the river – those Alaskans have it figured out.) You will hear plenty of talk about the feds allowing more commercial netting at river’s mouth, and you’ll hear that 2016 is “just one of those off years.” Still, we fished hard and caught fish – bigger than last year – and we brought back enough for the moment.
So, what makes this trip a bucket-list type adventure?
Ask Homey Bill and he will tell you it’s the deep friendships among the three of us – probably bonded somewhere in our love of hunting and fishing and the out-of-doors. Somewhere in there is a shared commitment to an outdoors for our grandchildren’s grandchildren.
Honorary Homey Dr. Jon? Well, let me put it this way. Our last day of fishing had started very early and lasted into evening. Dinner was planned around the fresh sockeye filet Jon had walked to the cooler to collect. It would be accompanied by a fine, fresh salad and a baked potato smothered in butter and sour cream. As Bill and I waited, exhausted, cool malt beverage in hand, for the filet to return to our cabin at The Red Fish Resort, Bill’s old friend John Wensley called. He excitedly told Bill that he and buddy Dave Knudsen had arranged a last hurrah for us – we would boat up the Kenai to a very special and semi-secret gravel bar and fish until dark (just before Midnight). Bill thanked him profusely for the offer and suggested a raincheck until next year, but John would not be denied. Finally Bill sighed, “Okay, let me check with Jon, but you know we’re just about to throw a filet on the grill, so no promises.” Bill found Dr. Son Jon – aka Thinks Like A Sockeye – just picking up the filet and turning toward the trail to our cabin. Bill explained that we were exhausted and hungry, but he’d promised Friend John that he would check with Son Jon about going back out. Jon looked at his dad, handed the filet back to the processing folks and said, “Well, let’s go! We’re wasting daylight!”
We fished ‘til dark, caught a few beauties, were in bed before 1 a.m. and on our way to Anchorage International the next morning.
Another fine bucket-list adventure.
