Every season I drive by the Alaskan Milepost turnoff on my way to guide camp. It would only be a quick four-hour detour, yet, I have never found inspiration in the idea of traveling north to Alaska. The junction post consists of a gas station, one lone weathered sign with painted kilometer markings and a tiny dirt parking lot crammed full of motorhomes, caravans and land yachts. It is an annual cattle drive with one RV following the other, weighted with convenient comforts, satellite dishes, and electric coffee makers. A stone’s throw away, Alaska has always been there, in conversations with clients, in mile markings, in comparisons; yet, I always questioned, what could it offer that northern British Columbia did not? I live and work in God’s country, or so I thought.
It was September, and I had just finished my steelhead and salmon season on the Skeena River when I received a text with a picture of a thirty-inch Naknek rainbow trout and an open invitation. I was in the process of cleaning up this season’s gear, putting the heavy 8, 9, 10wt rods into storage, rolling up loose spools of 20lb leaders and untangling big flashy steelhead intruder flies to tuck them into their proper fly boxes. I never would have thought I would be packing all this gear back up to swing for trout, albeit giant trout in Bristol Bay, Alaska. We had put together an exploratory trip and found a small group of clients who were equally as intrigued as we were; although with cautious expectations of these adfluvial fish who mimicked their sister counterpart — anadromous steelhead.
This is a place where the tundra owns the landscape and the sound of wild water soothes your heart. Lichen, tussocks and tundra berries fill the air with a
