Russian River redemption

I’ve been back to the Russian River twice now since I wrote my last story, searching for redemption. Each of those two trips I’ve come home with limits of sockeye, and the second trip I came home with two days worth of limits. It’s been a steep learning curve with many hours and miles put in. But the freezer is filling up and the sore shoulders and sore feet are worth it.

For my return trips I brought along friend and fellow fishing guide, Jett. On the second trip, Jett and I made the walk to the falls, this time carrying our waders in our backpacks rather than wearing them in for the 2.5 mile hike. The falls were full of fish and we hiked down below the boundary marker. It took most of the day but I was able to pick away at a limit. Our best strategy was to climb high above the river and look down to spot fish and cast to where we could see them holding.

I finished my limit around 6 p.m. and we fished until 7 p.m. before hiking out of the canyon. Jett hadn’t landed a single fish all day and to say he was disappointed was an understatement. He’s a trooper, but I could read the frustration on his face. I had had my chance at redemption from the previous week, and now Jett would be looking for his.

The opportunity arose this week where we could both make it back down for the day. We arrived at roughly the same time, 11 a.m., and decided to run the same program we had done only five days before: hike to the falls and fish our way downstream. Upon arriving below the boundary marker, we were pleased to find that we had the hole to ourselves. We quickly donned our stale waders and strung our rods. We could see fish stacked along the far bank and I knocked out the first fish for the day within 15 minutes. Things were looking great.

I’ll never forget when Jett hooked into his first fish. The look of determination on his face, his excitement and the instant pressure it put on me to not mess up my net job. I slipped and slid in the fast current as I worked my way downstream of Jett to scoop up the fish, a healthy fat sockeye that was just starting to change color. Our cheers and whoops echoed through the canyon and we gave each other a huge fist bump as we celebrated Jett’s redemption fish.

Jett would end up filling his limit in that hole and I came up one short for mine. The fish that were in the hole when we had arrived had passed on and the other anglers that were showing up had helped me flog the water enough to push the fish further upstream past the boundary. I made the decision to continue downriver to find another hole that might hold fish.

The incessant ribbing I received from Jett was comical. I was now in Jett’s shoes from a few days before. I felt the pressure. We stopped at one of my favorite holes and I forced myself to take a break and eat lunch. I pulled some freshly cooked salmon out of my backpack that I had caught from the same river on the last trip. We ate it on Ritz crackers with cheese and downed it with a can of Coke. Talk about coming full circle.

I wondered my way back upriver to a hole where we had seen fish resting on our walk down. A lack of angling pressure had allowed the fish to become comfortable holding against the near bank. I snuck up on a pod of fish, crouched low and slowly sliding into the river careful with every footfall to not cause a wake. A school of a dozen or more sockeye were holding below a large spruce tree in the river. I made several casts into the school, trying to get my fly to sink enough before it would glide over their heads. It was a tough spot, but I was determined.

I watched my chartreuse Russian River Fly slide through the current and find purchase in the corner of the mouth of one of the fish at the end of the pool. I set hard and fought her up onto the bank. Jett came running with the net, a little late, but that's ok because I had just knocked out my limit for the day.

We changed out of our waders and walked back to the truck. We talked all during our hike to the parking lot about the possibility of staying until after midnight when our limit would reset. By the time we finished dinner, it was already after 9 p.m., and we decided we might as well stay for a couple more hours and fish the next day.

Our original plan was to hike to the falls around 11:30 p.m. and start fishing at 12:01 a.m. Neither one of us had ever been to the confluence of the Russian and Kenai Rivers, an area called “the sanctuary.” This area is normally closed until later in the season or when the Russian meets its sockeye escapement goals above the falls. We decided to walk down and see what it looked like, and were met by a group of people standing around in waders, anxiously waiting for something. We then found out that ADFG had just released an emergency order stating that the confluence would be open to fishing at 12:01 a.m. the next morning. That information immediately changed our plans for the next day.

After walking back to the car, I set an alarm for 11:30 p.m. and the two of us took a quick nap in the front seat. When the alarm woke me up, I smacked Jett on the arm and the two of us stepped out of the car, downed a couple of energy and cinnamon rolls, and made our way down to the confluence.

A line of people extended from the mouth of the Russian down past the filet tables and around the corner on the Kenai. We worked our way into position at roughly 12:30 a.m. at the upstream side of the line and immediately began hooking into fish. Fighting fish in the dark surrounded by other people is difficult and Jett and I took turns netting each other’s fish.

It’s easy to get into a trance in this style of fishing. It’s as dark as it gets this time of year and you’re standing in thigh deep water. The river is running around you, drowning out any other noise. You make the same repetitive flip, swing and sweep over and over and over again. The only thing that breaks your trance is the stop of the line and the throb of the rod as a sockeye makes its initial head shake and mad dash downstream.

I finished my limit a little before 3 a.m. and only had to wait another 20 minutes for Jett to finish his. The salmon were boiling all around us and most of the people had already left. We cleaned our fish, hiked back to the car and slept for a couple of hours. When we awoke, we decided to walk back down to the confluence to see how people were doing. The fish were still rolling where the two rivers came together and it hurt knowing that we were already done fishing for salmon for the day. We slowly worked our way home to Willow after grabbing a quick breakfast at Gwin’s in Copper Landing.

This will probably be my last trip to the Russian this season. I’m glad we were able to finish on a high note, and that the two of us truly experienced our Russian River Redemption.