Our trip into the Alaskan backcountry turned out to be much more than just a pursuit of elusive steelhead. Known for their aggression toward the swung fly and acrobatic aerial displays after being hooked, the steelhead has a cult following. From double-hand rod-wielding purists to center-pinners and gear fishermen alike, the steelhead is one of the most sought-after freshwater gamefish in the US and Canada. A fresh from the ocean steelhead, translucent finned and blinding chrome, still speckled with black sea lice, provides the angler with a battle they will not soon forget. Personally, I prefer the ones that have been in the rivers for a few weeks. Their rosy red cheeks and pink bands, spanning the length of their scaley bodies, remind me of their freshwater origin, the rainbow trout. Their trout-like appearance differs so much from their more recent ocean-dwelling counterparts that they hardly look like the same species. Our trip, among other things, was initially about the mighty steelhead. We all wanted to tango with the ocean-run rainbows, and tango we did. We also had many other pleasant encounters with not only other anadromous fish, but a few of the resident fish as well.
We knew our destination river held many different species, all worth their own separate trips. To have them all in one place provided an opportunity to enjoy a multitude of Alaska’s native species in one river system. Although I assumed we would catch other species, I had no intention of dedicating very much time to targeting them.
I am a steelhead fishing fool and as the water temperature drops there is only one species that I care to target. I cannot speak for the others in my group, but my mind was made up. I was there for one reason.
Oliver Ancans
Alaska gets fall and spring-run fish and there are regulations in place to protect overwintering fish in smaller rivers and creeks. A positive effort put in place by Alaska’s Fish and Game Department to protect these native steelhead in highly pressured, easily targeted road system rivers. We often only get short windows to target steelhead, a few weeks in the fall as they make their way to their winter holdover locations, and a few weeks in the spring where the overwintered fish meet the dime bright spring runs, spawn, then quickly return to the ocean. Because Steelhead season is so short in Alaska, I often have little interest in the bycatch and rarely take pictures of it. They are often small Dollies and receive very little admiration. They are often a sure sign that you are fishing the wrong water for steelhead.
Our river of choice contained five additional species other than steelhead. Coho, Sockeye, Arctic char, Dolly Varden, and native Rainbow Trout. Most anglers would not consider any of these “bycatch”, however, when steelhead are on the move it is easy to get picky. Although every native species deserves the utmost respect, we often respect them by leaving them alone. As the trip went on, we grew to appreciate all of the other species native to the tussock-stricken landscape. Their unique coloration, demeanor, and purpose for inhabiting the river at that time, were all beautiful in their own way.
Found throughout Alaska, Arctic Char are often placed very high on most angler’s bucket lists. Their fiery orange bellies are easily showcased in photographs, and their aggressive feeding behavior makes them an easy target. In the fall, they can be found at the outlet of lakes, milling around spawning salmon. Their coloration makes them easy to pick out among the hoards of bright red salmon. This river, which overflows with the biomass of spawning and dead salmon, held an unexpected amount of Arctic Char. We even caught a few of them a couple of miles downstream from the lake outlet, gorging on salmon eggs and flesh. They were all exceptionally fat and healthy, and looked as though they had never been caught before. They were not only there to feed but they were also preparing for their own spawn and the dark winter months ahead.
An anadromous cousin of and almost biologically identical to the Arctic Char, Dolly Varden again score very high on many fisherman’s bucket list. The ones that often create envy are the giants from above the Arctic Circle reaching lengths of over 30 inches. The ones we found were nowhere near the 30-inch mark, however, they were equally as unique and beautiful. They undergo significant changes when they enter freshwater streams to spawn. Their bellies can change from blinding chrome to bright orange and red. Their spots, almost invisible when they are in the ocean, slowly turn pink, then slowly change to vibrant orange to match their bellies. We knew about the thick population of Dolly Varden going into this trip, but we did not know that they would be putting on a show for us, in full bloom, colored and kyped up. Ready to battle for their spawning grounds, all the while vacuuming up as many protein-packed salmon eggs as their guts allow. We caught dollies at will, throughout the upper reaches of the system and around spawning salmon, but they seemed to vanish as we floated lower in the system, most likely being bullied out of the holding water by aggressive salmon and steelhead.
An unexpected treasure was the native Rainbow trout. There are often resident Rainbow Trout found in river systems containing steelhead. These are the Trout that traded the ocean-dwelling life for a much less hazardous life, but where a choice is made, there are often sacrifices. The native rainbows do not get nearly as large as the steelhead. In the fall, food is plentiful, but during the summer months the rainbows eat mostly bugs and out-migrating smolt causing them to not get as big as the steelhead. It is often the size of the river that determines the size of the fish that reside there and with this diet alone the native rainbows rarely reach the 20-inch mark. The rainbows never registered on the “must catch” list before our departure to the river, but after handling a few of these pristine rainbow trout, we realized that they were worthy of a trip themselves.
Although they are found throughout most parts of Alaska, sockeye salmon were a pleasant surprise. As anglers and stewards of the land and water, is it highly unethical to target any fish on their spawning grounds. The Sockeye salmon, an iconic fish of Alaska and the Pacific Northwest West, often are not easily caught on a fly. They are generally caught by lining, flossing, or in a dip net used for subsistence fishing. These sockeyes, were overly aggressive, nipping at intruding egg-eating fish or flies, which were swung too close to their redds. Very shortly after we discovered that sockeye were spawning in the area, we changed tactics to avoid catching them. I am not a person who fishes beads very often, but to minimize catching actively spawning salmon, I will switch presentations to target the surrounding species. Sockeyes, known for their bright red bodies, green heads and high return percentage, are an extremely important food source for many land-dwelling mammals and birds, as well as many Alaska Native villages.
Coho, are a personal favorite species of mine. They are known for being particularly grabby toward anything pink, fushia, or purple, so much so that they can be taken on topwater gurglers and wog-style flies. The cohos we found in the lower stretches of the river were still teeming with sea-lice. Their faces looked as though they were made of precious metals, gleaming brightly off the copper sunsets. As we floated downstream, large schools of them darted underneath the rafts and others looked lost, wandering around stagnant pools in the river. They were a highlight of the trip for everyone, as their numbers and aggressive nature provided hours of entertainment for us and there was almost no fly that they would not take a swipe at.
Bycatch is often considered a bad thing and in some instances, a huge problem. Looking at trawler and commercial fishing bycatch numbers can be overwhelming and even depressing. It is extremely difficult to find accurate numbers and surveys on King Salmon, Halibut, Steelhead, and even marine mammal bycatch, as they are often buried in thousands of pages of studies and reports. For the sport fisherman, bycatch often goes unappreciated and sometimes receives very little respect, especially when another much more elusive species is the main target, but its beauty can be unmatched. Like a colored-up Dolly Varden, Arctic Char, or overly aggressive Coho, any bycatch should be treated with the utmost respect. Social media can get the better of us sometimes. The pictures and the attention can drive unethical behavior, like targeting active spawning fish and keeping fish, that are going to be released, out of the water for far too long. There were a few days on this trip where we did not see a steelhead. If the bycatch went unappreciated, we would have been ungrateful, while most anglers may never experience such an amazing fishery. We were lucky to have gotten more than we anticipated. Realizing that our bycatch was something people will travel thousands of miles to catch, we realized how truly lucky we were.
