Dipnet (dip' - net) v. An Alaskan sport (hee hee) of fishing (hee hee) in which the "dipnetter" stands nipple-deep in cold ocean water for hours at a time, holding a 5' diameter net against the current in the hopes that a salmon happens to swim into it. (etymology: from French "dipnette", meaning "to torture stupid people". Made popular by the Marquis de Sade)
- from Snarky's Alaskan Dictionary, to be published as soon as I consume enough beer
Yeah, somehow I got talked into dipnetting this weekend. Now, if you just called it "camping on the sand" it would be different, but about every other year I go "dipnetting" and it takes about 24 months to forget the pain enough to go there again. But, I'm finally home from this year's trip...sunburned, sore, exhausted. I finally got all the sand out of every...oh, no, there's some....
Back now. So...dipnetting. There are a few places in the state where Alaska residents can attempt this noble feat. I'm not sure if they hold it out for Alaskans only because of the huge limit involved--25 for the head of household plus 10 more fish per member of the household--or because they think tourists couldn't be talked into this joke. We all know tourists generally aren't the smartest birds in the tree, though--evidenced by the tourism draw where they pay thousands of dollars to sit on bleachers in the dead of winter hoping to see the Northern Lights so they can...um, yeah...under the lights because conceiving a child under them is, well, special.
Fact is, you really CAN get that many fish, or so I've heard...if and only if you happen to be on the beach when the big run comes through that the commercial fishermen missed. Otherwise you're like me; twelve to fourteen hours in the water and I catch one. That does beg for the first reason; they're trying to give the people who don't have day jobs like me a way to fill their freezer with fish; those who can be there throughout the week stand a great chance.
There are good things about it even on a busy weekend; don't let my sniping fool you. The scenery is beyond incredible. When we pulled up and were setting up camp, there was a picture-perfect Mt. Redoubt on the horizon. At various times I've seen two other active Alaskan volcanoes.
It's also free camping (remember what I said earlier about the best things in Alaska actually being free?). You have to stay inside the fenced public area, which is sometimes a bit crowded (mostly when weekend warriors like me hit it) and is VERY sandy to boot. Plus...shh...sometimes my fellow Alaskans are, well, um, in a word, rude. Like, for instance, the party that kept me up last night from about 1:00 am to about 3:00 am. I didn't have the heart to ask them to pipe it down, because it seemed to be going for a good cause. See, a bunch of people had gathered around a circa-1980 Eagle trying to get it out of High Tide danger.
By the way...side note...if you're ever in Alaska and you notice there is LOTS of space to camp on the darker area of sand...don't. That's where High Tide comes to.
This particular Eagle had died right below the high tide mark the day before. Someone in a pickup had come along and dragged it 100 feet or so forward, up above the high tide mark, and left it there. Later on, someone else had apparently been talked into trying to get the Eagle out of the sandy 4x4 area of the beach, and so they'd pulled the Eagle around to where the road might be...hadn't made it, had gone back down to the original spot, below high tide.
At that point, I lost most of my sympathy for the owner of said Eagle.
Someone came later and helped the Eagle pull to the side road, which is a VERY tough sandy spot...and didn't make it. They got the Eagle back up onto the safe spot on the beach, then pulled more. They had a couple vehicles out there pulling each direction, and had apparently run out of patience...with the Eagle back under high tide line. (sigh)
Finally came said party, with high beam headlights and shouting and all, which was apparently a last-ditch attempt at pulling the Eagle back out. They failed.
I hope they had good insurance on the Eagle, but I'm betting not. High tide wasn't nice to it at all.
The rest of the time, though, our fellow campers were awesome.
Anyway...I keep hoping to get $160 worth of salmon out of dipnetting...that's what I paid for my dipnet. Most of these nets will cost between $100 and $200. If you go, take firewood and toilet paper too. Make sure you take *chest* waders, not hip waders; otherwise you'll be VERY wet.
Getting there is relatively easy. Take the highway south from Anchorage, and continue toward Homer. About ten miles past Soldotna (the place with the Dairy Queen...can't miss it!) you'll see a right turn for Kalifornsky Beach Road; turn there. Then what you're looking for is Kasilof Beach Road. You'll know the turn by the big green highway sign with an arrow that says, "Kasilof Beach Road." Sounds easy, right? Yeah, but I've seen at least one Alaskan get lost on the way.
Then again, in the words of the immortal Mr. Whitekeys, "Everytime someone does something dumb, an Alaskan does something dumber!"
And that's all I have to say on the "sport" of dipnetting.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007
The Russian River
Ahhh, the Russian. God's country, if God is a fisherman...or fisherwoman...whatever. It's one of the most beautiful places on earth, at least the portion of the earth that I've seen, and it's only 110 miles away.
Isn't it beautiful? As I've stated in a blog previously, my landscape pictures are just...bad. I try to photograph the beautiful mountains surrounding the crystal-clear river, and all I get is a rather boring picture of trees. This picture is probably the closest I've come to actually capturing the beauty.
And there's a story behind it. I'll share it, but first, some background.
The Russian is a very unique fishing site. First, it's between ankle and hip deep through its entirety. It also runs very fast and very cold. It's crystal-clear, so you can see the salmon (who don't actually swim straight up river, by the way...they travel from hole to hole, conserving their energy somewhat).
The limit is three salmon, one of which can be a silver (leaving the rest to be reds, since to my knowledge there are no other breeds in the river). It's also catch and release for trout, which are far harder to see than the salmon, and their movement is far more erratic and interesting since they aren't swimming upstream to die. The Russian is a fly-fishing-only place; no bait allowed but then again none would help. The salmon, you see, aren't hungry. The only way to catch them is to take the fly (there are special flies mass-marketed just for this) with a weight 18" above it (gotta be at least 18" by regulation) and kinda toss it into the current ahead of the fish and let the fly float into the fish's mouth. It's a challenge. Don't expect to limit out your first trip, because not only are you contending with a fast-moving current and rocks on the bottom, plus the visual effect of the bending of the light waves, but the darn fish don't like being caught so they'll move as soon as they hear the plunk of the weight. And don't miss the mouth; if you hook into the fish anywhere else it's an illegal catch and you've gotta let it go.
So...I was catching fish with the fam. I'd caught one and tossed it onto the bank, then later went back to notice it had apparently flopped back into the river. Ah, well. I caught another and, this time, attached it to a stringer. Then was going after #3 and heard everybody yelling at me.
The Russian is loud, what with the water roar and all. I couldn't hear what they were saying.
Finally I turned around from the beautiful pool of salmon and followed Heide's pointing hand. Which led me to the first picture in the blog...my fish thief. Luckily I had my camera on me, so what I lost in fish I made up for in a killer photo...of a bear taking my fish.
Anyway...some advice for newbies. In terms of preparation, take some light tackle. I've done 4# test before,which makes it really challenging, but usually 8# is a good line. The fish are only 5-8 pounds, so that's fine. Take lots of flies with you; it's easy to lose hooks to rocks, and when you foul hook a fish it's usually easier to just yank the link and break it off than to reel in the poor fish, exhausting and probably dooming it to not making it upstream. It's smart to spend the evening before tying 18" leaders to each of the hooks, so you can use a swivel to make certain your weight is more than 18" away from your hook; otherwise it'll slide down in the current and become a $75 mistake. Get a good fishing vest or a fanny pack to take your fishing tackle with you; you'll be wading into the stream to fish and it's a pain to have to wade back when you break a line. A medium size net and some hip waders pretty much complete the ensemble. Some people take a gun along for the bears; frankly, I think that's a mistake since people who're packing bear guns are less likely to be as cautious as they should be...but hey, whatever trips your trigger. Also consider a good stringer; you can use one of the cheapo ones but it'll get old after a while; if you leave it on the bank the bears will probably get it, so having it secured to your gear in the river is a good way to do it.
If you take a lunch, have it well wrapped. Otherwise you're feeding the bears, which is not only dangerous but also illegal. Another thing that's illegal, by the way, is catching more than 3 salmon...a catch is defined as taking it out of the water and processing it to take home...that meant that the two fish I fed to the bear that day were considered part of my limit no matter whether they made it to my freezer or not.
There are two distinct areas of the Russian...the river itself and the confluence with the Kenai river. They're separated by an area called "the sanctuary" marked off by big signs. Fishing is almost always forbidden in the sanctuary...hence the name.
Fish pool in the confluence and the sanctuary throughout the day, and run upriver in the morning, for some reason. Thus, if you want to fish in the river (and I always do) plan on getting there by about 6:00 am. By 10 or 11 it'll just be stragglers, and after noon there's no point. The river is able to support a large number of people fishing without feeling crowded, which is nice. Be cautious of walking around where others are fishing, of course; even if you're doing it quietly, if the fish decide to move while you're doing it or at anytime in the future, the others will yell at you for scaring their fish away (I've had it happen).
To get there, go south on the highway from Anchorage. After a while you'll cross the Kenai (it's easy to spot; it's a huge river that's a beautiful turquoise color) and then go through a small town whose name I can never remember. Start watching; on the left you'll see a shopping mart/restaurant/cabin facility and then a Forest Service sign announcing the Russian. Parking is about $10; if you're early enough you may get a spot at Grayling...it's a parking-only area at the very end that is the closest walk to the river. It may not seem important when you're going down the river, but after a morning of slogging through the current you'll like a shorter walk with your 15-20 pounds of fish and (if you're like me) 30-40 pounds of water inside the waders. There are LOTS of stairs down to the river, too.
You can walk all the way down the river to the confluence if you wish...either in the river itself, or along the side on the boardwalk. There's where you'll find the more traditional type of combat fishing, with rows of guys and gals tossing into a silty water hoping to get lucky with a fish. You can certainly catch your limit there; I have before, but I don't like it as much as the river. Also,
there's a bigger parking area right off the highway from which you can take a ferry across right to the confluence; it's not cheap though (as I recall, it was something like $10 to park and $10 for each person).
There's also camping available in about 80 different spots in the forest service campground, and I hear the other campgrounds around the area are nice. The forest service campground is $13 or $20, no hookups, and reservations are required (well in advance, by the way). Also...watch out for bears. You MUST practice good campground sanitation, or you'll be visited in an unpleasant manner. The bears won't eat you--at least, I don't think they will--but they're very interested in your beef jerky and stew and will rip your tent up to get it.
Ahhh...paradise.
Stephen...out fishing....
Isn't it beautiful? As I've stated in a blog previously, my landscape pictures are just...bad. I try to photograph the beautiful mountains surrounding the crystal-clear river, and all I get is a rather boring picture of trees. This picture is probably the closest I've come to actually capturing the beauty.And there's a story behind it. I'll share it, but first, some background.
The Russian is a very unique fishing site. First, it's between ankle and hip deep through its entirety. It also runs very fast and very cold. It's crystal-clear, so you can see the salmon (who don't actually swim straight up river, by the way...they travel from hole to hole, conserving their energy somewhat).
The limit is three salmon, one of which can be a silver (leaving the rest to be reds, since to my knowledge there are no other breeds in the river). It's also catch and release for trout, which are far harder to see than the salmon, and their movement is far more erratic and interesting since they aren't swimming upstream to die. The Russian is a fly-fishing-only place; no bait allowed but then again none would help. The salmon, you see, aren't hungry. The only way to catch them is to take the fly (there are special flies mass-marketed just for this) with a weight 18" above it (gotta be at least 18" by regulation) and kinda toss it into the current ahead of the fish and let the fly float into the fish's mouth. It's a challenge. Don't expect to limit out your first trip, because not only are you contending with a fast-moving current and rocks on the bottom, plus the visual effect of the bending of the light waves, but the darn fish don't like being caught so they'll move as soon as they hear the plunk of the weight. And don't miss the mouth; if you hook into the fish anywhere else it's an illegal catch and you've gotta let it go.
So...I was catching fish with the fam. I'd caught one and tossed it onto the bank, then later went back to notice it had apparently flopped back into the river. Ah, well. I caught another and, this time, attached it to a stringer. Then was going after #3 and heard everybody yelling at me.
The Russian is loud, what with the water roar and all. I couldn't hear what they were saying.
Finally I turned around from the beautiful pool of salmon and followed Heide's pointing hand. Which led me to the first picture in the blog...my fish thief. Luckily I had my camera on me, so what I lost in fish I made up for in a killer photo...of a bear taking my fish.
Anyway...some advice for newbies. In terms of preparation, take some light tackle. I've done 4# test before,which makes it really challenging, but usually 8# is a good line. The fish are only 5-8 pounds, so that's fine. Take lots of flies with you; it's easy to lose hooks to rocks, and when you foul hook a fish it's usually easier to just yank the link and break it off than to reel in the poor fish, exhausting and probably dooming it to not making it upstream. It's smart to spend the evening before tying 18" leaders to each of the hooks, so you can use a swivel to make certain your weight is more than 18" away from your hook; otherwise it'll slide down in the current and become a $75 mistake. Get a good fishing vest or a fanny pack to take your fishing tackle with you; you'll be wading into the stream to fish and it's a pain to have to wade back when you break a line. A medium size net and some hip waders pretty much complete the ensemble. Some people take a gun along for the bears; frankly, I think that's a mistake since people who're packing bear guns are less likely to be as cautious as they should be...but hey, whatever trips your trigger. Also consider a good stringer; you can use one of the cheapo ones but it'll get old after a while; if you leave it on the bank the bears will probably get it, so having it secured to your gear in the river is a good way to do it.
If you take a lunch, have it well wrapped. Otherwise you're feeding the bears, which is not only dangerous but also illegal. Another thing that's illegal, by the way, is catching more than 3 salmon...a catch is defined as taking it out of the water and processing it to take home...that meant that the two fish I fed to the bear that day were considered part of my limit no matter whether they made it to my freezer or not.
There are two distinct areas of the Russian...the river itself and the confluence with the Kenai river. They're separated by an area called "the sanctuary" marked off by big signs. Fishing is almost always forbidden in the sanctuary...hence the name.
Fish pool in the confluence and the sanctuary throughout the day, and run upriver in the morning, for some reason. Thus, if you want to fish in the river (and I always do) plan on getting there by about 6:00 am. By 10 or 11 it'll just be stragglers, and after noon there's no point. The river is able to support a large number of people fishing without feeling crowded, which is nice. Be cautious of walking around where others are fishing, of course; even if you're doing it quietly, if the fish decide to move while you're doing it or at anytime in the future, the others will yell at you for scaring their fish away (I've had it happen).
To get there, go south on the highway from Anchorage. After a while you'll cross the Kenai (it's easy to spot; it's a huge river that's a beautiful turquoise color) and then go through a small town whose name I can never remember. Start watching; on the left you'll see a shopping mart/restaurant/cabin facility and then a Forest Service sign announcing the Russian. Parking is about $10; if you're early enough you may get a spot at Grayling...it's a parking-only area at the very end that is the closest walk to the river. It may not seem important when you're going down the river, but after a morning of slogging through the current you'll like a shorter walk with your 15-20 pounds of fish and (if you're like me) 30-40 pounds of water inside the waders. There are LOTS of stairs down to the river, too.
You can walk all the way down the river to the confluence if you wish...either in the river itself, or along the side on the boardwalk. There's where you'll find the more traditional type of combat fishing, with rows of guys and gals tossing into a silty water hoping to get lucky with a fish. You can certainly catch your limit there; I have before, but I don't like it as much as the river. Also,
there's a bigger parking area right off the highway from which you can take a ferry across right to the confluence; it's not cheap though (as I recall, it was something like $10 to park and $10 for each person).There's also camping available in about 80 different spots in the forest service campground, and I hear the other campgrounds around the area are nice. The forest service campground is $13 or $20, no hookups, and reservations are required (well in advance, by the way). Also...watch out for bears. You MUST practice good campground sanitation, or you'll be visited in an unpleasant manner. The bears won't eat you--at least, I don't think they will--but they're very interested in your beef jerky and stew and will rip your tent up to get it.
Ahhh...paradise.
Stephen...out fishing....
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Girdwood Forest Fair
"Leave your Dogs, Politics, and Religious Orders at home, Please."
Man, Alaskans are weird. Occasionally it's a dangerous kinda weird, but usually it's a "hey, this is cool even though I can't bring it home to Mom" thing. Having lived here since '95, I certainly already knew this, but this weekend I had a lot of fun while recalling the fact.
This weekend I went to one of Alaska's best-kept secrets. It IS a secret, too, shared by us locals, so...shhh, don't tell anyone, OK?
The Girdwood Forest Fair has apparently been happening for the better part of three decades, mostly without me, which is likely to be one of the greater reasons for its success. Girdwood, or "GirdWEED" as some people like to snipe, sits about 35 miles south of Anchorage on...well, the only highway that goes south from Anchorage...duh...and is mostly known for some residents' agricultural pursuits, a fantastic ski resort, and the best restaurant in the entire state (namely, the Double Musky--$100 a person, easily, but worth every drop). It's a really cute little Alpinesque town that serves as a destination for some and as a bedroom community for a portion of Anchorage. The highway connecting it to the largest city in Alaska used to be absolutely evil to drive in the winter--there were a couple days every year when the Girdwoodians were avalanched and staying home or stuck in Anchorage unable to get home. In the past several years they've widened and improved the road, though, so now it's merely "hazardous" in the winter.
Anyway, the Girdwood Forest Fair lives up to the maxim that most of the good things to do here in Alaska are free. There's no parking fee, so long as you park according to directions (otherwise the parking fee becomes pretty large, and payable to the local towing dude, Bob). There's also no entry fee. The truly refreshing thing about it is that it's all local. There are lots and lots of commercial booths, but they're all local artists who hand-make their stuff. The food is cool too; slightly overpriced but not overwhelmingly so (unlike the event's bigger brother, the Alaska State Fair, where everything is outrageously priced). I even found boiled peanuts, which is quite a rarity up here away from my birthplace in the South. That's the true South, as opposed to the more common Alaskan usage of the term indicating any of the other 49 states.
They also had local bands performing pretty much all day. We sat and listened for a while to a band that was pretty...well, it was awful. At least, it was bad when they tried to sing. Instrumentally they were great. Several people were enjoying the large hula hoops to the right of the stage, proving that they could rotate their hips to the beat...more or less...many less than more...but it added to the jovial atmosphere. What I never figured out was the guy to the left of stage painting to the beat. Still, it just reinforces my first statement.
Later on we caught the Photons. No, that's not a sickness; it's a band that actually is apparently from the local area (I checked, but they don't seem to have a web presence...go figure). They've been described as, "Beautiful Ultra Rare Alaskan Psychedelic Jam Band. Too cool. In the vein of the Grateful Dead." Um...yeah. Which vein? They're like the Grateful Dead playing Funk with a ukelele. Listening to them is like (here comes my blazingly powerful figurative speech) eating a Cajun-Italian dish with curry-habanero sauce. And enjoying it. I'm not a food critic, so I guess I probably could enjoy that dish if it were good. And this was, kinda...the music, not the dish. I'm not a music critic either, so I don't feel bad saying the music sort of grows on you.
What better way to enjoy (ish...) a fine (ish...) musical performance, though, than sitting in the crook of a mountain draw between the trees in an outdoor theater, looking up at a mountaintop and sunset? It really was great. And the people watching was phenomenal...I wasn't kidding about my first assertion. I'd come in a button up shirt and jeans, and boy was I overdressed. Eventually I put on a pullover fleece (it gets chilly after the sun goes down, even in July!) and blended in a lot better. Even then, though, I was wishing I had a toboggan cap or baseball cap or boonie hat or...something...just wanted to blend in.
Still, it was a good family concert; a little weird but not dangerous at all. Lots of people there were "kids"...which to me is anyone under 30...but there were plenty of families enjoying the music.
Overall, the Girdwood Forest Fair is well worth going to. It's a bit of a drive from Anchorage, though you can't miss it (head south, turn left at the sign that says, "To Girdwood," and then follow the signs that say, "To Parking"). It's a good family fun even that doesn't cost anything to get in, doesn't really cost anything to enjoy. Bring a backpack full of food, or some cash to enjoy the food there.
-Stephen
Man, Alaskans are weird. Occasionally it's a dangerous kinda weird, but usually it's a "hey, this is cool even though I can't bring it home to Mom" thing. Having lived here since '95, I certainly already knew this, but this weekend I had a lot of fun while recalling the fact.
This weekend I went to one of Alaska's best-kept secrets. It IS a secret, too, shared by us locals, so...shhh, don't tell anyone, OK?
The Girdwood Forest Fair has apparently been happening for the better part of three decades, mostly without me, which is likely to be one of the greater reasons for its success. Girdwood, or "GirdWEED" as some people like to snipe, sits about 35 miles south of Anchorage on...well, the only highway that goes south from Anchorage...duh...and is mostly known for some residents' agricultural pursuits, a fantastic ski resort, and the best restaurant in the entire state (namely, the Double Musky--$100 a person, easily, but worth every drop). It's a really cute little Alpinesque town that serves as a destination for some and as a bedroom community for a portion of Anchorage. The highway connecting it to the largest city in Alaska used to be absolutely evil to drive in the winter--there were a couple days every year when the Girdwoodians were avalanched and staying home or stuck in Anchorage unable to get home. In the past several years they've widened and improved the road, though, so now it's merely "hazardous" in the winter.
Anyway, the Girdwood Forest Fair lives up to the maxim that most of the good things to do here in Alaska are free. There's no parking fee, so long as you park according to directions (otherwise the parking fee becomes pretty large, and payable to the local towing dude, Bob). There's also no entry fee. The truly refreshing thing about it is that it's all local. There are lots and lots of commercial booths, but they're all local artists who hand-make their stuff. The food is cool too; slightly overpriced but not overwhelmingly so (unlike the event's bigger brother, the Alaska State Fair, where everything is outrageously priced). I even found boiled peanuts, which is quite a rarity up here away from my birthplace in the South. That's the true South, as opposed to the more common Alaskan usage of the term indicating any of the other 49 states.
They also had local bands performing pretty much all day. We sat and listened for a while to a band that was pretty...well, it was awful. At least, it was bad when they tried to sing. Instrumentally they were great. Several people were enjoying the large hula hoops to the right of the stage, proving that they could rotate their hips to the beat...more or less...many less than more...but it added to the jovial atmosphere. What I never figured out was the guy to the left of stage painting to the beat. Still, it just reinforces my first statement.
Later on we caught the Photons. No, that's not a sickness; it's a band that actually is apparently from the local area (I checked, but they don't seem to have a web presence...go figure). They've been described as, "Beautiful Ultra Rare Alaskan Psychedelic Jam Band. Too cool. In the vein of the Grateful Dead." Um...yeah. Which vein? They're like the Grateful Dead playing Funk with a ukelele. Listening to them is like (here comes my blazingly powerful figurative speech) eating a Cajun-Italian dish with curry-habanero sauce. And enjoying it. I'm not a food critic, so I guess I probably could enjoy that dish if it were good. And this was, kinda...the music, not the dish. I'm not a music critic either, so I don't feel bad saying the music sort of grows on you.
What better way to enjoy (ish...) a fine (ish...) musical performance, though, than sitting in the crook of a mountain draw between the trees in an outdoor theater, looking up at a mountaintop and sunset? It really was great. And the people watching was phenomenal...I wasn't kidding about my first assertion. I'd come in a button up shirt and jeans, and boy was I overdressed. Eventually I put on a pullover fleece (it gets chilly after the sun goes down, even in July!) and blended in a lot better. Even then, though, I was wishing I had a toboggan cap or baseball cap or boonie hat or...something...just wanted to blend in.
Still, it was a good family concert; a little weird but not dangerous at all. Lots of people there were "kids"...which to me is anyone under 30...but there were plenty of families enjoying the music.
Overall, the Girdwood Forest Fair is well worth going to. It's a bit of a drive from Anchorage, though you can't miss it (head south, turn left at the sign that says, "To Girdwood," and then follow the signs that say, "To Parking"). It's a good family fun even that doesn't cost anything to get in, doesn't really cost anything to enjoy. Bring a backpack full of food, or some cash to enjoy the food there.
-Stephen
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