Fishing in the land of the midnight sun

This year I’ve truly come to understand what it means to fish in “the Land of the Midnight Sun.” I’ve had the opportunity now on several occasions to fish the late evening hours of one day and stay well into the early morning hours of the next. I’ve learned how to uncomfortably sleep in the car, pound energy drinks and fillet fish by feel rather than by eyesight.

This last weekend my wife Emily and I traveled to the Kenai Peninsula with the goal of filling our freezer full of tasty sockeye salmon. On our way south, we stopped by the Kenai River to try our hand at flipping, or flossing, in Soldotna. We rolled into the parking lot about 10:00 p.m. just as the sky was beginning to darken. We stayed in our first spot for a couple of hours, landing two bright, fresh fish that were members of the 100,000+ fish days the Kenai experienced last week. We fish until midnight, when I just started to lose fine details in the fading light. We traveled to another access point, where we fished until almost 2 a.m. from the metal walkways that stood above the current of the river. While we’re already a month past the summer solstice, it was still just light enough to see shapes and outlines at that time of the morning. I only needed my headlamp for untangling my line, which was frequent.

Later that evening, we found ourselves on the banks of the Kasilof River dipnetting for sockeye. There weren’t many people on the bank at 10:15 p.m. when we found an open spot in the line. We picked our spot next to a family that was playing music and we enjoyed humming along to the tunes well into the night. The fish came in waves and the action was just consistent enough to keep us interested. My wife’s waders leaked and the water was cold, so we used the extension on our Alaska Gear Company dipnet that allowed us to stand a bit shallower. We took turns holding the net and getting out of the water to eat a snack or stand by a warm fire that we shared with other dipnetters. We stayed until 1 a.m. when we were too cold to fish any longer.

It takes me a while each summer to get used to the darkness that begins to creep in at the end of July. The drive back to our AirBnB seemed almost pitch black as we negotiated the Sterling Highway south to Ninilchik. I kept an eye out for any moose that could potentially make their way out from the marshes and trees that hugged the road. For some reason driving in the darkness at 2 a.m. in July is much more difficult than driving in the light at 2 a.m. in late June.

The days are getting shorter and the fishing season is nearing its peak. I’m now looking at a long month of guiding for trout and salmon, most likely in the rain. I’m not ready to let summer go, but I am prepared for those cool, rainy days of August and September. My time “fishing in the Land the Midnight Sun” is pretty much over for the year, and I have roughly 10 months to look forward to doing it all over again.