Midnight Madness

Valley Life editor

When the whistle blows on job sites around the Valley and Anchorage, it sure ain't quittin' time -- it's go time for the midnight warriors.

The midnight warriors are a breed all their own, with characteristics of being extremely persistent, extremely dedicated, and some would say, extremely crazy. They are the people who, after putting in a long day at work, jump in their cars and trucks for a three-hour drive to the Russian River, catch their limit of red salmon and make the equally long drive home in the wee hours of the morning. They figure that in the winter, they'll have the full freezer and some time to catch up on their sleep.

If they're lucky, they'll get to sleep a couple of hours before they repeat the cycle again. Sometimes in Alaska, work gets in the way of play, and more importantly, the salmon run.

"I'll do that run once or twice a year, when they raise the [bag] limits, to make it worth it for me, but I work with guys who go down to the Russian twice a week for a couple weeks in a row," said Todd "Buster" Anderson, a construction worker from Wasilla. "We're working in town [Anchorage], so that's one less hour you have to drive going down. The Anchorage guys can do it a little easier than I can."

Anderson was in business because last week, the bag limit was raised to four sockeyes per person, per day. Last year, the limit during the second run of reds reached six per person, per day, thanks to a strong return. This year's first run has been very strong already.

So why, exactly, do hundreds of people look forward to the race down to the Russian, where they'll stand shoulder-to-shoulder before a mad dash back to the Valley, getting home around 2 a.m.? The answer is easy -- fish, and lots of them.

"Even with so many people, you can pretty much bet that you're going to catch your limit, and that fills the freezer," said Gregg Givinsevic, Anderson's coworker and "copilot" on the Russian River midnight march. "It's a lot more fun to do that a couple of times than to waste an entire weekend and go to Chitina and dipnet. That feels like work."

Often, people get to the Russian River from the Russian River Ferry, and the last ride back across the water is at 11 p.m. Until anglers get to their vehicles, take off their waders and get ready for the drive, it easily can be midnight. That means a 3 a.m. bed time, at the earliest.

"Getting up isn't fun, but the fishing is," Anderson said.

On the weekends, there is a different type of midnight warrior on the Russian River. You'll pass them coming to the river as you leave on the last ferry across. They're toting a tent along with their fishing gear, but often, it's only going to be set up and used if they limit out before the rest of their party does. That was the case last Sunday morning, as Brien Johnstone sipped on a cup of camp coffee at 7 a.m. He had his four sockeyes, and his party of five already had 18 -- two below the limit.

They got to the Russian around midnight, and thanks to evenings filled with light instead of darkness, they were able to fish continually through noon.

"There's too many people during the day, but if you fish all night, it isn't nearly as bad," Johnstone said. "I'm tired, but I can sleep this afternoon when the rest of these people are still trying to catch their fish and I already have mine."

On Sunday, two members of the all-night crowd celebrated a milestone of sorts. Around 7:30 a.m., after fishing from midnight on, 10-year-old Jamaal Rensinger held up a sockeye salmon proudly as his father clicked several pictures with a digital camera. It was Rensinger's first fish he ever caught at the Russian River, he said.

"That was cool. Did you see the way he took off downstream?" Rensinger asked. "I've lost probably 10 fish already. But not this one," he said, his finger hooked through the gill plate, the fish held high.