The dim light of early dawn appeared on the horizon as the flesh fly landed on the surface of the choppy run; beginning to swing. It was my third cast of the morning, and as it approached the final quarter of its arc across the current, I felt a tug, followed by a series of pulls. Somehow, I managed to resist the urge to strike until the tip of my spey rod bent over with the solid grab from a heavy fish. It immediately went airborne upon feeling the sting of the hook, throwing a shower of spray and landing with a tremendous splash, then speeding away downstream as it pulled mightily against the stout drag of the reel.
My guide, Kvichak Aspelund, quickly anchored the boat, then waded quietly below with the net as I kept fingers crossed that the hook wouldn’t come loose while the super-sized hen Rainbow tried frantically to escape. After a number of tense minutes, during which the rod was deeply bowed against the strong current and her powerful surges, she finally began to yield and circled slowly in the eddy behind the outboard motor. With a deft movement, Kvichak expertly slipped the mesh beneath her and I whooped in exultation from the successful capture of the huge trout. I marveled at her chrome sides and faint pink cheek blush, and she resembled the freshly-arrived steelhead that I avidly pursue on the coastal rivers – except for the enormous girth that nearly exceeded the span of both hands, which resulted from her extensive feeding in the rich waters that are a hallmark of Bristol Bay’s aquatic ecosystems. We took measurements and photos as she was held beneath the water, then gently released the 29-inch fish to continue her pre-winter foraging.
The Inland Rainbow Trout of Bristol Bay
For many decades, anglers have flocked to southwest Alaska to fish the storied waters of Bristol Bay. Anadromous enthusiasts pursue the mighty Chinook, powerful sockeyes, bull-dogging chums, and leaping cohos, while others target the resident Rainbow trout, Dolly Varden char, lake trout, Arctic grayling, and northern pike that abound in the Bay’s systems. The millions of sockeye salmon that return each year to the watersheds of the region are key to its astounding productivity, as these provide invaluable sources of marine-derived nutrients that support the biota which flourish here.
Of particular interest to fly fishers are the Rainbows that dwell in the Bay’s inland waters. Many of these populations are diadromous, which are life histories that involve migration between different habitats. Unlike their anadromous Oncorhynchus mykiss cousins that we know as steelhead, these trout don’t head out to the ocean and then return to natal streams for spawning. Instead, they spend their entire life in freshwater, using the area’s large lakes for growth and winter refuge, followed by movement into inlets and/or outlets to spawn in the spring. They will also re-enter these rivers during mid-summer through fall to forage on sculpins plus loose salmon eggs and flesh from dead carcasses drifting downstream. Such adfluvial lifestyles provide access to many sources of protein and contribute to their exceptional size — these trout can exceed 36 inches in length and attain girths over 20 inches. Catching a trophy rainbow is the dream of many anglers, and the Bristol Bay region is one of the few places in the world where this can be regularly achieved. (*Note: recent studies utilizing electronic tags have documented that some of these fish do leave the river and enter the estuary for awhile before returning to freshwater habitats; this period of coastal occupancy is brief, so they are not considered to be actually anadromous.)
Land of the Giants
While Rainbows are caught during the entire season and at many different locations throughout Bristol Bay, anglers seeking the largest trout typically concentrate on the spring and fall periods in the biggest watersheds, including the Naknek and Kvichak rivers.
The Kvichak and the upper Naknek are closed from April 10 through June 7 to protect spawning rainbows, and following the resumption of angling on June 8, these fish will feed heavily to restore themselves after the rigors of reproduction. Early summer coincides with the outmigration of sockeye smolts, and the trout will intercept the swarms of juvenile salmon that are heading downriver to the sea. These prey swim and school near the surface, and the predatory ‘bows can be seen slashing through the massed bait as they frantically attempt to flee. Stripped imitations fished on floating or intermediate lines provides exciting visual action during the smolt migration; at times their concentrations are so dense that the trout will have difficulties targeting your fly, so patience and persistence can be important for success.
Both systems become hotspots for big Rainbows again in the fall, when fish move out of the lakes and reposition themselves in these rivers to take advantage of the protein abundance flowing downriver. This is the time to swing fish with two-handed rods, Skagit heads, sinking tips, and streamers to entice them as they strive to put on extra weight before winter. During autumn, the trout are in premium condition with massive bodies following months of summer gorging – and they’ll grab your fly with serious intent to consume.
There are a number of operators that cater to anglers seeking giant Rainbow trout on the Naknek and Kvichak rivers. Without any hesitation, I would highly recommend the Bear Trail Lodge (https://beartraillodge.com). Owners Nanci Morris-Lyons and Heath Lyons plus their daughter Rylie have a top-notch facility located a few minutes from the King Salmon airport (which is served daily by commercial carriers including Alaska Airlines). They are a full service operation with upscale accommodations, 5-star gourmet cuisine, and many other amenities. You can book trips as short as 2 days or up to a week (and longer), which is really helpful to accommodate schedules (and budgets too). The long-term guide staff is composed of highly talented professionals who have worked there for many years, so their knowledge and familiarity with these waters is superb. Each is an expert in Spey casting and swing fishing, and a number of them are graduates of the Bristol Bay Guide Academy, which is a program that Nanci, Tim Troll, and Luki Akelkok created in 2008 to involve local residents – including Alaska Natives – in the sport fishing industry. Since its inception, over 150 men and women have graduated from the Academy, and its multiple benefits (e.g. employment opportunities in a region where jobs are scarce, sharing of Native culture with visiting anglers, etc.) have attracted the support of many non-profit organizations plus corporate sponsors.
The Naknek and Kvichak are very large rivers, with holding lies in some areas far from shore, and anglers must often work long linear distances encompassing hundreds of yards. So instead of having folks wade to fish, the Bear Trail guides will enter the water and walk the boats through these runs as fishers cast from elevated platforms atop the boat deck. This allows them to cover a lot of area efficiently and effectively while enabling clients to avoid the difficult river substrates and dangerous currents; anglers are also positioned in the very best spots to present their offerings to the fish, which greatly increases the likelihood of success.
Fish On!
In late September, I had the opportunity to pursue Bristol Bay’s big rainbow trout as a guest of Bear Trail Lodge. The 45-minute Alaska Airlines afternoon jet flight from Anchorage to King Salmon went smoothly, and a cheerful representative was there at the airport terminal to help with my luggage and transport me to the facility. After a short drive, we arrived and I was promptly introduced to the rest of the very courteous staff. As I was enjoying delicious appetizers, I met my first day’s guide Kvichak Aspelund, who then joined me for a sumptuous dinner and pleasant chat during which his extensive angling knowledge became readily apparent. I eagerly anticipated my upcoming session on the river with him as I prepared my gear before retiring to my spacious, well-appointed room, and promptly fell asleep in the super comfy bed.
My fishing over the next several days would take place on the Naknek River, and after eating a hearty breakfast, Kvichak and I left the Lodge at 7 am. We arrived at the boat landing while it was still dark, then loaded our gear into the skiff and were underway a short time later.
Our first stop was located a few minutes’ ride upstream from the launch area, and Kvichak parked the boat next to a small mid-river island. He expertly rigged a long rabbit fur flesh fly on my 13’3” 7-weight two-hander, which was outfitted with a skagit shooting head plus sink tip. As the light began to grow, he pushed off the island and commenced walking the boat down the run via wading in the swirling current, as I casted off the port side from the stern platform. The river was very wide here, and water depths ranged from two to four feet. I was covering a 60 to 80 foot swath with my swings, and caught that beautiful, mammoth-sized hen Rainbow right after we began fishing – what a great way to start the trip!
As we continued to work the flats, it quickly became apparent why the method used by the Bear Trail guides of walking boats was so valuable. We were fishing in the middle of the channel over a hundred yards from shore, and from my secure perch on the casting deck, I could see how tough it would’ve been for me to wade out and then try to work the expansive run on foot while dealing with the swift flows and big slippery boulders (with a dunking highly likely).
We made three more long passes with Kvichak continuing to tirelessly walk the boat, fishing different areas closer to the bank plus adjacent to the rapids on the far side of the river. To cover the deeper and faster spots, I switched to my 13’9” 8-weight rod, and focused on trying to make good casts so that his hard work wouldn’t be wasted. I caught a number of smaller fish, including a feisty Dolly Varden char plus some very plump Rainbows that were 12 to 16 inches in length.
Upon returning to the Lodge, I went up to the bar where Nanci was preparing drinks for the guests, and relayed my delight in landing that grand and spectacular Rainbow at the start of the day. On the wall behind Nanci were rows upon rows of photos with smiling guests holding immense trout. These were arrayed in two areas, with 5” x 7” images of fish from 30 up to 32 inches separated from those that exceeded 32” (which were mounted in 8” x 10” frames). She indicated catches of 30” trophy Rainbows were becoming so frequent in recent years that it was necessary to create the additional category of 32 inch plus extra large fish. We discussed the possible reasons for these dramatic size increases, and she felt that the current cohort of ‘bows which were attaining full maturity has been able to take advantage of the nutrient wealth generated by the record sockeye salmon returns in recent years.
Bucking Rods and Smoking Reels
During Friday’s dinner I met Triston Chaney, my guide for the second day. He was another Alaska Native graduate of the Bristol Bay Academy who had been working at Bear Trail for eight years, and his infectious enthusiasm plus readily apparent expertise amped up my excitement for the upcoming fishing.
On Saturday, we departed the Lodge at 6:45am and arrived again at the same spot before first light. I was prepared for a grab at the start of angling, and sure enough, I felt a hard yank followed by a fierce pull within a few casts. Upon the strike, the mammoth trout thrashed wildly on the surface and immediately bolted upriver against the heavy flows, leaving a loop of running line bellying in the current as I frantically tried to reel. This hen then vaulted high and completely cleared the water directly opposite us, showing her gleaming flanks as she violently twisted her body while airborne — and promptly threw the hook. My adrenaline rush gradually subsided as the now lifeless line trailed below us, and I shook my head in astonishment at this amazing display of power; we both thought that the chrome ‘bow might’ve exceeded the 30 inch mark.
As Kvichak did during the previous day, Triston undertook the strenuous effort to repeatedly walk our boat while wading over slick rocks and through rushing rapids. I noticed that there were times when he was pulling back hard to hold us against the churning water while being immersed up past his waist! We changed flies and tip densities several times, and there were more touches from smaller trout that kept me alert throughout each of these passes.
Moving to a different area in the flats, Triston asked me to switch to my 7-weight and swing on either the starboard or port side as per his instructions. I felt plucks from lesser fish, again, as I waited patiently for a grande one to strike.
We approached a section with very large glacial relict boulders imbedded in the channel, and things began to get quite interesting. A short time later, we hit pay dirt as a huge trout leisurely chewed on the 5-inch flesh fly, while I waited to set the hook until my rod tip pulled down hard with a powerful take. The hen flashed her silvery sides on the surface before tearing away in a screaming run that bowed my double hander down to the cork handle and ripped line from the disc drag reel. Triston maneuvered us over to the bank, and I fought her as she surged again and again way across the river. Finally, she tired and I reeled her up to the surface behind the stern – only to have her sprint away in yet another long desperate spurt into an adjacent side channel. She eventually stopped in the rippling shallows below and refused to be moved, even with my long rod bent to the max and the big reel locked by my fingers. I feared that the hook would tear out from the intense pressure and was about to jump out of the boat to give chase, when Triston ran downstream and expertly captured her with a deft swoop of his net.
As the gorgeous hen lay quietly in the mesh, we admired the lovely cherry hue on each side of her head and the flawless, shiny flanks that had nary a single mark or missing scale. She also had a thick dorsum and expansive abdomen that made her appear much larger than the 29 inches measured by my guide. (I was still re-calibrating my visual estimates for these super stout Bristol Bay inland Rainbows versus the more slender steelhead, and having a device to determine genuine lengths helped me to be honest.) I kept her head submerged while the photos were taken, and she quickly revived and powered swiftly back into the broad Naknek upon release.
Before resuming our fishing, Triston changed my fly to a black leech tied with a long bunny fur strip and a bright red throat; he indicated that the Naknek Rainbows viciously attack these patterns. We continued to carefully work the water, and I soon had a hookup from a medium sized trout that bolted downriver and tore up the surface until it became unbuttoned. Several casts later, the rod was nearly yanked from my hand as the fly was violently smashed in a ferocious strike, with the subsequent blistering run immediately scorching my fingers from the running line flying madly off the reel. It was absolutely the most terrific and astounding swing take that I’d ever experienced, and all I could do was to hang on to the rod while the enraged brute blasted downriver as if all the seals in Bristol Bay were pursuing it.
Far off in the distance, the great Rainbow rolled on the surface, and we got a glimpse of the long kype and stupendous form of this amazing buck. The following period was spent in an intense battle as I fought him with determination, gaining some line then quickly losing it as he dashed madly and repeatedly across the channel. This back-and-forth fracas ensued for long minutes, and to reduce the likelihood of pulling the hook out as he struggled valiantly against the straining boron and nylon, Triston moved the boat out of the mid-river current and towards the bank, where I hoped to coax him into the gentler flows.
The trout made a last run downstream and came to a stop about 40 yards below the boat. He began to wallow on the surface, and I dropped my rod tip to reduce the tension and thus avoid having the fly tear loose as he thrashed. Fortunately, this maneuver appeared to settle the fish, and I was able to carefully reel him towards the boat with the rod angled into the shore, trying to keep the hook imbedded in his jaw as he slowly swam in the depths. I eventually had the fish within a dozen feet and lifted him off the bottom, when we were able to finally see just how enormous he was, eliciting astonished and excited exclamations from both of us. Triston stood on his toes next to the outboard with the water at the top of his waders, and stretched the net as far as he could while I prayed that the hook would hold, then successfully slipped it beneath and captured our prize. As we exchanged ecstatic shouts and enthusiastic fist bumps, he measured the trout at 32 inches, and proclaimed that this was the biggest Rainbow that’s been caught in his boat.
This magnificent ‘bow had a bulging shoulder jutting above his grand head plus a stunning circumference and was built like a Chinook salmon. A splash of magenta decorated the rear portion of his cheeks and extended towards the pectoral fins, along with a subtle stripe of the same color following the lateral lines; his exceptionally broad back plus expansive tail were adorned with a constellation of vivid black spots. I laid my outstretched hand and fingers across the widest part of his body, and saw that this 8-inch breadth still wasn’t enough to reach to the bottom of his ponderous belly. I was grinning from ear to ear as we marveled at his massive size while I held him underwater atop a patch of grass. As his strength returned, he flexed his muscles and I opened my hand to release him. We saluted his return to the river as I wished for him to successfully spawn and produce more progeny comparable to this grandiose river monarch.
Back at the Lodge, Triston forwarded the images of my catch to Rylie, and she congratulated me on joining the 32-inch trophy trout club as I enjoyed her mother’s special wild berry beverage and the delicious appetizers. I was presented with a magnetized version of this fish’s photo along with a unique hat (featuring artwork by the famous fish artist Ray Troll) to commemorate this accomplishment, which was made possible because of my guide’s exceptional skill and efforts.
We were served a special dinner of Bering Sea crab that evening, and I was very pleased to learn that Kvichak would again be my guide the next day. We sat across from each other and discussed our shared passion for steelhead fishing, and I was quite envious to learn that he spends a lot of time pursuing winter metal heads on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula. I mentioned that I would soon be returning to the Alaska Peninsula for my annual fall steelie sojourn, and promised to share photos of my catches with him during the upcoming weeks before we retired for the evening.
Smash Grabs
I was treated to yet another day of fine weather on my final Naknek angling morning. Kvichak asked me if I had any location preferences, to which I replied that I would be very happy to fish wherever he took me. So we ran a ways upriver and began at another choppy, boulder-strewn flat that was bordered by foaming whitewater out in the main channel.
Our first pass with a half sink, half floating 10′ sink tip targeted trout that might be holding in the shallower areas closest to the bank. I fully covered the water with a series of concentric swings up to 75 feet that yielded a couple of small Rainbows. Kvichak then switched me to a 10’ sink full tip, to entice fish that were holding in the deeper sections towards the middle of the river.
Because the flows were quicker here versus at the flats that we fished previously, Kvichak had to work harder to hold the boat and wade-walk as I casted from the stern platform. He advised me to allow the fly to swing all the way through and pause for a moment before retrieving and re-working the water. With a wry smile, I joked that those darn “hang down” bites were my nemesis, and that I usually farmed such takes that occurred directly downstream.
We were halfway down this lovely looking run and my offering had completed its course across the current. I again allowed it to dangle below me and then made one strip when the fly was suddenly smashed by a whopping Rainbow. This startling grab was accompanied by a tremendous splash as I instinctively set the hook, and a silvery torpedo leapt four feet out of the water upon being stung. The crazy hen then tore out towards the edge of the rushing rapids where she fought wildly against the taut line and long throbbing rod. Subsequent efforts to draw the fish closer to the boat yielded more angry and stubborn surges away from us, with each dash becoming successively shorter until these heroic efforts finally exhausted her and allowed me to lead the trout into my guide’s waiting net.
We held her in the quiet water along the shore, and Kvichak determined her length to be 29.5 inches as I pumped my fist and let out a triumphant whoop. Like the other female ‘bows I had caught, she was bright as a newly minted dime, with a rosy tinge coloring her gill plates and an astoundingly thick body made super fat by feasting in this bountiful aquatic system. As before, I kept her head beneath the water while photos were taken, and we marveled at her absolutely perfect shape and form until she flexed her tail and sped away from her admirers.
A couple more 14 to 18 inchers were hooked as we made two additional passes further out towards the faster water with the flesh pattern and then a black leech fly. They were also silver sided, and resembled the half-pounder steelhead that I had caught on southern Oregon’s Rogue River, except that these inland Rainbows were football shaped and had far more substantial girths similar to their larger Naknek brethren. Such fish would be considered prized catches in other rivers but were definitely outshone here by the giants that we were seeking.
We motored to a couple of other spots and employed different sink tips up to T17 to work the slots. When these didn’t produce, we went back towards the flats to fish the uppermost end. The depths were greater here and the associated currents were swifter, so Kvichak paired me with his T14 tip on my 8-weight to swing this particular section. The addition of even larger boulders to negotiate made walking the boat more challenging, yet my guide handled this very well as I carefully covered the water with successive arcs across the river.
The water velocity diminished as we approached the bottom of this run, and my swings slowed down while we fished through this tantalizing area. Sure enough, I felt a series of electrifying tugs, and then the tip of the Nimbus was yanked down from a ponderous fish engulfing the flesh pattern. I gripped the line against the cork handle and struck back hard, then felt powerful headshakes as the Rainbow subsequently sought to expel the hook that was lodged in its jaw.
This 25-inch buck fought as determinedly as each of the larger ones I had hooked earlier, and it took many long, patient minutes to subdue him as he used his broad sides to advantage while resisting capture. He had a bit more color on his body versus the chromers I’d been catching previously, and I was really delighted to be able to add yet another out-sized Naknek trout to my tally.
After making a second pass with a leech fly, Kvichak decided to try the tailout that led to the next part of the flats. He leaned back extra hard against the rushing surge as the boat slid down towards the whirling turbulence while I continued to cast. We could see a small V of calm water directly below us, where the main current intersected the head of a side channel flowing to the left of an island. As the fly swung into this pocket, I let it marinate for a few seconds on the hang down, whereupon it was ferociously attacked by a fish, and I struck back with my rod tip low to the water and off to the side. It was a solid hook set, and I saw a humungous hen Rainbow twist and roll on the end of my line in the clear water. She then shot off downstream and held in the pounding rapids, and all I could do was to hang on until the hook pulled out from the maximum pressure.
The remainder of the day was spent working a cobble and gravel-lined section with moderate velocity and depth below a mid-river island. This was a spot where Kvichak brings his anglers to target the fish that are feasting on the swarms of out-migrating sockeye smolts in early summer. As I fished here, I envisioned big cruising trout attacking schools of prey on the surface — and seriously considered a return visit at that time of year to sample this exciting fishery. An 18 inch, super stout Rainbow subsequently smacked the flesh fly and interrupted these thoughts, and we admired the final catch of the day while the afternoon sun bathed the river’s surface in a bright golden glow.
As Alaska’s winter descends upon the land, I’ll be looking forward to next autumn’s visit and the opportunity to swing again for the giant Rainbows of Bristol Bay. In the meantime, dreams of those beautiful trout will help to pass the months of frigid cold and darkness, until I’m able to return to partake again in this unique and marvelous fishery. See you this fall!
Glenn K. Chen is from Homer, Alaska and has lived in the Great North for more than two decades. He has worked as a fisheries biologist for 35 years and avidly pursues salmonids across the state at every opportunity.