Fishing the Kenai

I have always wanted to learn how to fly fish. My first attempt was unsuccessful when as a 10 year old I hooked myself in the wrist with a treble hook. I wasn't aware that a Zebco rigged with a mirror lure wasn't the right equipment. It required the surgeon-like skills of my dad to clip the hook off the lure and with a pair of needle-nosed pliers pull the hook out, painfully, the way it had entered. I decided then that I probably needed expert coaching in the subject and never attempted fly fishing again.

When the movie "A River Runs Through It" debuted, I watched awe-struck at the poetry of the sport as witnessed in the fly fishing scenes scattered throughout the movie. I confess: it may have been Brad Pitt fly fishing that held my attention but I knew that at some time in my life I, too, would fly fish!

Another item was crossed off my bucket list yesterday when Joe and I went fly fishing on the Kenai River. It was all I had ever imagined even without Brad.

Following a quick BBQ sandwich, we donned our gear to meet our guide. I have to set the scene so that you can fully appreciate the severe handicap my husband imposed on me in an attempt to out-fish me.

While all the other fishermen were donned in their khaki-colored hip boots and waders with matching jackets and vests looking as if they had stepped out of the pages of the latest Orvis catalogue, my sweet husband handed me a rain suit he had purchased two years earlier for a fishing trip to Matagorda Bay.

It was bright blue and made of a material that can best be described as a starched handi-wipe. I truly appreciate the man. He has no clue what I weigh or the size I wear in clothes but this special quality backfired on me yesterday. As I took the blue monster out of the bag, it continued to grow. As I slipped it on over my layers of clothes, I very quickly began to resemble one of the floats at the Macy's Thanksgiving day parade. Sliding on my hip boots created additional challenges because no matter how much I stuffed the pants into my socks and into the boots, the rain suit would work its way up and out of the boots making me look like I was in blue bloomers. To add insult to injury, I was the only woman on the river that day making me conspicuous on a good day....I had entered "their" world!

Our guide for the day was Mike. He was a 20-30 something, very patient young man with dreadlocks to his waist that he neatly controlled with his baseball cap.

were fishing that day with a gentleman from Colorado who had extended a business trip to do a little fishing. He was an experienced fly fisherman and I have no doubt he was trying to figure out a way to get his money back on the trip when he saw me.

We received our safety rules and Mike expertly maneuvered the boat into the fast current of the Kenai. Although we would be fishing with fly rods, we would not be using dry flies but lures...fake salmon eggs that Mike paints himself with fingernail polish. We settled into a nice drift and could see spawning salmon just a foot or so below the water swimming upstream as we were floating downstream. Michael, the businessman quickly began fishing. Mike patiently instructed us how to cast telling us we were fishing on the same side of the boat and therefore had to cast in tandem. Super. I am joined at the hip to the man who has outfitted me in the most ridiculous outfit imaginable. The same man who insists on adding an extra beat to the two-step making it impossible to dance with him and I'm now told I have to cast "in tandem!" Where's Brad when I need him?

Although my casting was nothing like that pictured in "A River Runs Through It" I managed to get my line out there with just a few problems. After tangling my line in the many pleats and folds of the Blue Monster and snagging it on the buckles of my hip boots more than once, I adapted and managed to cast pretty easily. We had fished for about 10 minutes when suddenly my "indicator" (in Texas we call them bobbers) sunk and I landed my first fish...a dolly varden. I was quickly up three fish to none with the rest of my more experienced fishing companions.

As the day progressed, I continued to catch fish while Joe remained "fishless". It took a remedial lesson from our guide to get Joe on the right path and soon we truly were fishing in tandem.

Joe caught a dolly varden and our boat-mate landed a sock-eye followed by a rainbow trout and then I hooked a rainbow but it flipped off my line before Mike could set the anchor to allow him time to get it off my line. I caught another shortly after that.

That was something interesting I learned about the Kenai. The fish are plentiful but the state really wants to protect this resource. Catching rainbows and dollies is strictly "catch and release" in this river and the guides are very attune to making sure the fish are not traumatized in anyway. If we wanted a picture with a fish, Mike had us "set the shot" with the camera before he would very quickly remove it from the net resting in the water. Afterwards, he would gently return it to the river. We never touched a fish the entire day which was OK with me!

Towards the end of the day, we passed into an area and it seems we all received hits on our lines within seconds of one another. Joe landed a rainbow and Michael lost one. I had something on my line that was so big there was speculation that it may have been a salmon. It snapped my line and is free to be caught another day. I teased Mike and told him that he has learned that you always leave them wanting more. I honestly cannot wait to go back. It is my kind of fishing. It was cool, I didn't get sunburned, the fish were so plentiful I lost count of how many we caught, the scenery was beautiful, and I didn't have to travel half a day to get there.

We (Mike) unloaded the boat and I shed that hideous blue layer. It went into the nearest trash bin where it belonged to begin with. Both Mike and Michael complimented Joe and I on our first day fly fishing. although we may not be naturals, we are at least respectable. We plan to go back and fish with Mike before Winter hits.....he has a spot where he'll take us that is perfect for practicing our casting. Perhaps by next summer, I'll go professional or at least look the part. And who needs Brad Pitt when you can fish in tandem with Joe Nixon!

We're not in Texas anymore...

I took a direct flight from Houston to Anchorage. The eight hour flight was uneventful and the cloud cover allowed only brief glimpses of the mountain ranges still covered in snow. When we landed, Joe was waiting, anxious to show me the paradise he had been describing in phone calls over the past month. He had refused to share more than cursory pictures because as he kept telling me, "You have to see this for yourself."

Highway 1, also known as the Seward Highway, is the only road connecting Anchorage to the Kenai Penninsula. As you drive south, you make your way on a two-lane road coursing along Turnagain Arm of the Cook Inlet where Captain Cook, many years ago, had to turn his ship around and retrace his course when he failed to discover a passageway between Cook Inlet and Prince William Sound. It is the same area that boasts of one of the most dramatic bore tides in the world and is also a popular area for viewing dall sheep, beluga whales, bears, and various birds and other wildlife.

About an hour south of Anchorage, you enter the Kenai Penninsula and Highway 1 splits. You can continue east to Seward and Prince William Sound or west to Kenai and Homer along the Cook Inlet. As we traveled west, we followed the road along Kenai river. I could see flashes of the turquoise water through the trees as we watched for moose in the rapidly approaching dusk.

Moose are a real problem to drivers on the Kenai Peninsula. One of Joe's first safety lessons upon arriving was focused on driving in moose country and he shared the following tips with me:

• If an approaching car flashes its lights at you, it means there is something in the road ahead...most likely a moose.
• At night, if the approaching lights appear to flicker, it is a moose crossing the road.
• If you must hit a moose, try to hit them in either the front or back legs (Joe couldn't remember which) which will direct the moose over your car instead of through the windshield. Note to self: get clarification on this one!

After eight hours on a plane and flying through two time zones, two hours into the drive I was seeing moose everywhere. Every tree stump looked like a moose and a shadow of a tree looked like a moose with antlers. The last hour of our three hour trip was in complete darkness. The unfamiliar, two-lane road had us both wary and it wasn't until we were right upon it that we shouted simultaneously: "MOOSE!" Luckily for this moose, it had decided to graze on the side of the road and remained there as our car sped past. Had it not remained there I'm sure Joe's training would have kicked in and we would have decisively hit it in either its front or back legs to flip it up and over the car.

Since then, the moose we've seen have all been grazing along the side of the road. Many have two calves who at this time of the year are teenagers and each calf is the size of a cow. Only once have I seen a moose cross the road. This particular moose came out of the woods at full run: head down, straight across the traffic, and into the woods on the other side. I can only imagine the outcome had the car ahead of us been traveling any faster.

Moose season started this past week and since then I've not seen a moose. I'm told they will be more visible after the first snow when they return to graze the clearings along the side of the roads. That means I can expect to see moose again in about 3 weeks. Currently, I'm more concerned about the crazy moose hunters than I am moose.

It was 10 days after my arrival before we had a sunny day and I saw the mountains. Everything I had heard about Alaska was confirmed that first sunny morning. On a clear day, even a trip to the post office is awe-inspiring when you look up and see Mt. Redoubt towering over you. I know now why Joe was hesitant to send me pictures. Even a professional photographer cannot capture this beauty. I have to agree. You really must see this for yourself!

Next: Fishing the Kenai

...and so it begins!

Welcome! I've jumped on-board the blogging wagon to share a bit of my new world with friends and family.

For those of you who may not be current on the Nixon's latest locale, Joe was transferred to Kenai, Alaska. If we really knew the truth, he probably volunteered for this assignment. I am not one to accuse falsely but I do know that Joe received his official transfer paperwork and less than a week later was on a plane to Alaska. While I was frantically preparing our home in Texas to sell and getting two kids ready to return to college, Joe was consumed with getting a fishing trip lined up and researching the regulations concerning shipping his hunting equipment. It seems suspicious to me that the first week in his new assignment also coincided with the king salmon run. What do you think? Will I ever get him back to Texas?

I joined him two weeks ago and since that time have been busy trying to find a house. I'm happy to report that after two weeks of looking at every option available, several more than twice, we have a contract on a house and plan to be official Alaskan's mid-October.

During these past two weeks, we've tried to experience as much of Alaska as work and house-hunting allow. Nature reminds us daily that Winter is rapidly approaching and we will be somewhat limited in our explorations. There is a touch of Fall in the air and in certain areas the leaves have begun to turn. While Texas is in the midst of a heat-wave, Joe and I are wearing light jackets in an attempt to ward against the 45 degree chill that greets us each morning. By the afternoon, we are in shedding our layers to enjoy the beautiful sunshine and 65 degree temperature.

Although Alaska will never be home, Joe and I have learned to treat each new assignment as an opportunity for adventure. Our previous assignments have prepared us to embrace the challenges. We've learned that we can be happy in the midst of a 500 year flood and ice storm in Oklahoma. We've survived a Spring blizzard followed by hurricane-force winds while riding both out in a 5th wheel in the Texas Panhandle. What's a little snow and sub-zero temperatures to these pioneers? We have no doubt that we can make it through an Alaskan winter after all of these (mis)adventures. Besides, as all Alaskans know, Summer will be just around the corner and the summers here are incredible!

Next: We're not in Texas anymore....