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Big rainbows have a way of making us feel like fools.
Sometimes they'll come right to the boat like a small fish, only
to explode out of the water while throwing the hook and making
everyone gasp. A good friend of mine who shall remain nameless
tried to land a big rainbow in a rubber net. We feel strongly
about using rubber nets for careful catch and release. The only
problem is that sometimes the release comes too soon. This fish
barely fit in the net and remained just long enough for hook
removal. Then before the camera shutter could click, it bounced
as if on a trampoline and disappeared. We later measured the net
and the bag depth and estimated the fish at 34". That's a lot of
rainbow.
One time I had a guest hook a huge rainbow that jumped twice
before reducing his reel of all fly line and backing. That
rainbow looked like a king salmon with a pink stripe. A half hour
later, we saw line heading upstream. After rising to the
challenge of running up and down the bank on slippery rocks
holding the end of the backing, we managed to get it tied to the
spool. We followed the fish and retrieved all the backing up to
the fly line. The moment the line tightened to the fish, he took
off again and reduced us to blithering idiots.
Believe it or not, this same fellow had another big rainbow
encounter of the unbelievable kind a year later. From the boat,
he hooked a giant fish that jumped like a porpoise straight
toward the boat. As he lifted the rod to take up slack, fly line
wrapped around the rod tip. We thought that would end it, but
when the fish took off, so did the top half of his rod. We chased
the tip section down and got it reattached without losing anyone
from the boat. Then we pulled over to the bank. After a long
battle, the fish finally came to hand, only I couldn't hold it.
It was just too wide to grasp. After a couple failed attempts, I
said lets get the video camera rolling and we'll film the fish in
the water. Two months later I got a tape in the mail. I was so
excited. I put it in the VCR and ran through all the great Alaska
vacation scenes up to the point of the monster fish. It turned
out that the tape ended during the fight and we never got the
fish on camera. I was devastated.
Last summer we had a spectacular season hooking big fish. We
actually landed some, but those that left us hanging will always
be remembered, especially a particular jumbo bad trout hooked by
a first time angler. Sometimes huge fish have a way of picking on
people who are simply unprepared to cope with them. For the
experienced anglers who bear witness, it is nothing short of
"killing me" painful. Gail, bless her heart, was having a great
time. She lost many a fish but landed plenty for a first timer
and confessed that she really preferred the "little jumpy
ones".
As we were drifting, I kept my eye on Gail and would tell her
when to set the hook. After making a fated cast, something else
caught Gail's attention and her fly line was drifting in a loose
bunch of slack. I saw her indicator go down and in a nanosecond,
"Troutzilla" erupted on the other side of the boat. Stuart and I
were both eye to eye with the piscine beast. We swear he gave us
the wild eyeball and flipped us the fin before diving down and
then jumping on the other side of the boat. Gail looked to the
right and the fish jumped to the left. She looked left and he
jumped to the right. She never even saw that rainbow and has no
idea what that fish would have meant to an angler like Stuart, if
he would have been fortunate enough to land it. Stuart and I will
never forget it.
Big wild rainbows are awesome fish. Truly large bows often go
completely crazy with reckless leaps, twists and smoking runs.
When the tenuous connection fails before the fish is brought to
hand, all we can do is "bow to the rainbow" and say thanks for
the ride.
This is the the first of many tales to come. Some names may be
changed to protect the guilty, though probably not. Stacy and I
have many stories that are usually well received in the boat, so
we decided to start spilling some here. Let me know what you
think or if you remember a good one from a Mystic Waters
adventure.
Tight Lines and Tall Tails,
Fred Telleen
EMAIL Fred Telleen |
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As an Alaskan guide, most of my time is spent sharing
my favorite river, the “Upper Kenai” with others.
However, the best thing about Alaska in mid-summer is that
daylight extends beyond midnight. That means that on occasion, I
can guide an entire day, take care of preparations for the next
trip and still grab a few hours of fishing with a friend.
On one such summers evening, my friend Stacy Corbin and I were
sight fishing to big trout in one of the Upper Kenai’s many
eddies. We had spotted several trout over 20” moving around
some sockeye carcasses lodged in a snag. I maneuvered the boat,
while Stacy crouched low in the bow and cast carefully into the
zone. His fly was immediately intercepted and Stacy gave a
powerful strip set, not expecting the result.
Instead of a 24” rainbow straining for cover, a little
8” trout missile was flying straight at Stacy. For a
moment, time was suspended. The tiny trout seemed to be swimming
in air. Then, splat went the rainbow right in the crotch of his
Simms waders. I had a brief moment to view the shocked look on
Stacy’s face as he examined the slime spot. Then my eyes
filled with tears of laughter as Stacy bent over and attempted to
capture the hapless fish now flopping in the bottom of the drift
boat. Even in Alaska, small fish happen. |
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I probably should not go into this, but as a parent
and fishing guide, I’ve noticed some striking similarities
between kids and adult fly fishers. Sometimes well educated,
mature adults turn into little children when confronted by tricky
fish. Take the guy from West Yellowstone many years ago. He
seemed very eager to help mentor my other angler from Vermont.
Fortunately, they were not together, but only ended up sharing
the boat that day.
Vermont was all decked out in new duds from Orvis. This was
shortly after the movie (River Runs Through It). He admitted that
he was not much of a fly fisherman, but just took a class and
really wanted to try it. West Yellowstone was sporting well worn
waders and the cork on his fly rod looked like it had been baked
in an oven. Obviously, the guy was experienced and well traveled.
He started the day out by sharing his resume of fishing exploits
while laying out perfect casts. Vermont was in awe.
If you have fished much from a drift boat, you know that there is
really no reason for a long cast. If the guide is doing his job,
he will put you close to the fish. I guess I was doing my job
that day, because Vermont was hooking all the fish. His technique
was to watch West Yellowstone cast and then wave his rod around
while grunting and ultimately pile a cast into the water about
ten feet from the boat. Perfect.
I won’t go into all the reasons as to why this was the more
effective technique, but suffice it to say that Vermont was
hooking five pound rainbows. This had an interesting effect on
West Yellowstone, who had only landed a couple of dinks. His
loops got tighter and his casts got farther. It did not matter
that we were mid-river, he was hitting the banks at will. He was
pushing a strike indicator and split shot 70'.
I should mention that I had carefully approached the subject of
getting a long natural drift near the boat to West Yellowstone. I
had explained that the fish were deep and feeding on king salmon
eggs, not taking hoppers near the banks. This was repeated more
than once. Enough said.
Things got really out of hand when Vermont tried heroically to
make a good cast toward the bank and somehow wrapped a loop of
line around his neck. While he was engaged in untangling himself
from the line, the fish of the day took his fly. The big rainbow
jumped two feet into the air in front of West Yellowstone and
managed to stay hooked. By this time, Vermont was embarrassed by
his success and began apologizing to West Yellowstone for his
luck. This had an interesting effect on West Yellowstone. His
face got dark red and I swear there was smoke coming out his
ears. Suffice it to say, he came very close to breaking his rod
while taking a (“time out”) break from fishing.
At the end of the day, Vermont was very excited. He went on and
on about how thrilled he was at his success. He was pleasantly
surprised at how easy and fun fly fishing was and that he could
join a trip with a more experienced angler and still have fun.
Somewhere in the middle of this oration, I heard a shower of
gravel from someones tires.
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One of the things I love about guiding, are all the
couples who come together to fish. What could be better than
sharing a fun and exciting day on a beautiful river with your
special partner. I really enjoy being a part of the fun and
seeing the surprise and wonder that often accompanies landing big
fish. Often, one of the partners has a little more experience
then the other. I work especially hard to make sure that the more
novice partner has a good time and lands some fish.
An important lesson I have learned while guiding is that guys
usually know lots about fishing, without having actually learned
anything. Gals usually know very little about fishing, but end up
actually learning lots. This can create some interesting
situations during the course of a guided trip.
One particular couple joined me on a beautiful June day. Ken was
very proud of his angling skills and made it plain that he was
going to show Barb how to catch fish. I was pretty much along to
bear witness and provide the boat. It soon became apparent that
Ken had some challenges to overcome if he was going to land any
fish. Barb on the other hand, was a natural. With some careful
coaching that Ken chose not to pay any attention to, she began to
catch some nice fish. You can see where this is going, but
fortunately, it is not going to end with Ken having a melt
down.
After catching several fish, Barb sort of eased up on fishing
without Ken noticing. She was very diplomatic (she whispered to
me to make sure to give Ken the best chances). Finally Ken hooked
a nice fish from the boat. Boy was he excited. "Hey Baby, this is
what it's all about!", he whooped as his fish took some line.
While this was going on, I was distracted by a huge splash on the
other side of the boat. I noticed that Barb was holding her rod
down by the water and that her rod was bucking as a huge rainbow
again broke water.
Just as I was filling up with exultant joy at the prospect of
helping Barb land the epic fish of my guiding career, she lifted
a finger to her lips. I was dumfounded. Her grande rainbow got
off and she handed me her rod. Then as my ears burned, she began
to praise Ken for his spectacular catch. Ken was beaming and I
was smiling back my tears.
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Stacy is fond of the saying, “No Bad Days.” He picked up a sticker with a palm tree and the quote down in Cabo. He has it on the back window of his van. It reminds him of sunrise on the beach and mornings spent chasing rooster fish in the warm surf. Not a bad image. While I generally agree that any day spent fishing is a good day, I know of an angler who might have a different view.
I was guiding a party for sockeye salmon on a river bank one day. A man walked in from a trail and started fishing on the shore directly opposite us. We did not pay him much mind, because we were pretty busy landing fish. Someone did note some time later, that the fellow was not having any action. Eventually, he did hook a fish and we all cheered him on during the battle. He chased the fish around the riffle and tried to lead it toward the bank. The salmon would have none of this and kept sprinting toward deeper water, sending up showers of spray. We all groaned as the man fell in the river and lost his fish.
As we were watching him pick himself up, we saw a big cow moose come out of the woods down the bank. This is not an unusual occurrence, but what was strange, was that the moose was running full speed. I don’t know if he heard our yelling or not, but as the unfortunate angler was backing out of the river, dripping wet, he looked up to see the moose bearing down. With a lunge, he cleared the water and dashed into the bushes. Thankfully, the moose kept on going before turning into the trees.
The reason the moose was running was soon apparent. As the man came back out to stare after the moose, he walked right into the path of a charging brown bear. I could not see, but can only imagine the expression the poor fellow must have had. He instantly spun and dashed back into the woods.
Those of us who have spent time in bear country have heard time and again, never to run from a brown bear. It would have been a rare soul indeed, who would not have reacted as this fellow did. In hot pursuit of the moose, the bear reacted to the movement of the man and followed him into the woods.
As you can imagine, we feared the worst. The outcome seemed inevitable. You could have cut the tension with a knife. Thankfully, within a second, the man appeared, followed by the bear, who turned on down the bank in the direction of the moose. It was probably a good thing the guy was wearing waders. No bad days? Well, it depends on how you look at it.
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Late one fall, after my guiding season had ended,
Stacy and I decided to explore a side channel. We had been eyeing
it all season. The river had been cutting into it steadily for
several years. It looked like prime habitat was waiting. Now,
with low water and a full day on our hands, it was time for a
long explore. We fished our way down from the top, noting some
major bear sign. The reason was soon clear. More sockeye remained
spawning here than anywhere else on the main river. As we had
hoped, the trout knew about it.
They were wild fish. Not expecting to be caught and feeling
exposed in some of the shallower riffles, they took flight.
Sometimes we landed them and sometimes they found sanctuary in
the logjams and sweepers. It was my favorite kind of fishing,
exploration, success and fun in a new place. The desire to know
what was next, kept us going farther and farther into the maze.
Before long, we could not wade the channel because of logjams and
deep holes. I took to the woods and followed the bears' trails.
At one point, as I was reaching for a handhold to cross a fallen
log, I put my hand in something.
I tried to wash it in the river, I tried to scrub it in sand and
mud and leaves. When we got back in the boat and continued our
float down the main river, Stacy noticed it. My hand was fouled.
It was bad. I showered as soon as I got back to the cabin. I
scrubbed my hand with antibacterial soap and a brush until the
skin was raw. Feeling that I was purified, I dressed and met
Stacy for dinner at the Kenai Grill. The scent came back. It was
in my skin like a tatoo. The bears left me a reminder that the
channel was theirs, wild and a little bit grubby. I can’t
wait to go back.
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