For wilderness adventures that combine both some of the continent’s most incredible fishing with days or even weeks of soothing solitude, Alaska is the place to go. In fact, there are destinations enough that waiting on an angler to choose just one could take months. The Southwest corner of the state alone is replete with such lonely, fish-filled waters, most of them offering nearly boundless float-fishing possibilities. To the prospective trip-planner, rivers like the Eek, Arolik, Aniak, Kanektok, Goodnews, Nuyakuk, Kwethluk, and the Togiak line up like the greatest of salesmen to show their goods, none “better” than the other, only different.

It’s not hard to see why it could be difficult to pick between them, but choose we must, for it would take the better part of an angling lifetime to explore even a portion of these waters.

Thus, when Gary Anderson, the long-time NFL field goal kicker now with the Tennessee Titans, and I started to discuss our plans for a summertime float in southwest Alaska, we first had to narrow the options. Gary’s family—his wife Kay and sons Austin and Doug—along with Jeff Blood, the vice president of marketing for Frog Hair, and his son Connor, have traditionally floated the Bighorn River for their annual outing. As this year they were headed to Alaska to fish with Fish Alaska operations manager Wayne Norris and myself, we immediately set about defining the parameters for our trip. We had a two-week window within the middle of July as our target dates. We were looking for a float through a little-visited, virtually unblemished river drainage, as well a chance to fish for both rainbow trout and Chinook salmon—and whatever else might become available. We had ten days to complete the entire journey. With this much set, I contacted Steve Powers of Papa Bear Adventures to discuss some options. He offered several and before long we had whittled down the possibilities to a single option, which offered all of the above and more—the Kisaralik River.

Decision made. Then the really agonizing waiting began. Finally, on July 6, after what seemed like eons of river-filled dreams, Wayne and I depart the Anchorage airport on a Hageland Aviation Beech 1900 C aircraft. Arriving in Bethel at about 7:45 a.m. to some wind and rain, we meet Steve and head for Papa Bear’s lodge to wait for the weather to cooperate enough for the Beavers to take to the sky. By 2 p.m., the green light was given, and after loading two weeks worth of gear into the immaculate DeHavilland Beaver, we depart from Bethel, this time headed for parts unknown (at least to us) and Kisaralik Lake.

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The scenery from the aerial vantage is amazing, and we watch as it improves steadily the closer we get to the lake. It is about an hour-long flight from Bethel and our pilot flies low along the river, pointing out some of the good fishing holes and the hazards that will present themselves to us along the float. From flat tundra country, we gradually move into gentle, rolling hills, and finally, the Kilbuck Mountains, where Kisaralik Lake is nestled between peaks at an altitude of about 1800 feet. Landing on the lake, we peer down into the water and what appears to be three feet deep is easily over 10. Crystal clear and cold, we hope these alpine headwaters hold lake trout. Upon taxiing to shore, we exit the aircraft and are immediately swarmed by mosquitoes. In retrospect, the lake is one of the two worst spots on the float (at least on our adventure) for mosquitoes, and it pays to have both a bug suit and quality bug spray. To this effect, I recommend the Original Bug Shirt and 3M Ultrathon bug spray or cream.

Papa Bear Adventures specializes in outfitting and flying groups like ours for wilderness floats. Papa Bear set us up with NRS, 13-foot self-bailing rafts, and we had flown two of the three boats out with us on our flight. After helping us set the boats up, the pilot departed, and the fact that we were alone in the wilderness could sink in. Finally, some peace and quiet! Nothing but the sound of moving water and buzzing mosquitoes—paradise.

Gary and crew are scheduled to arrive the following morning, so after setting up camp, we row around the lake trolling for lake trout. Regardless of our trolling speed, lure offering, or position on the lake, three hours of fishing result in zero fish. Instead of pushing it, we decide to change tacts and row around the lake collecting firewood to last the night, which we also hope will be enough to scatter the mosquito hordes. Indeed, the wood did prove to be enough to last the night. The bugs, however, proved immune to the smoke.

The following morning is sunny and calm, and as expected, the distant roar of the Beaver’s engines signal the imminent arrival of the rest of the group. After welcomes and the same routine with the third boat, the planes are in the air again and our wilderness float begins. All of us are anxious to start catching fish, and about an hour into the float, Doug lands the first—a 16-inch Dolly Varden caught on a small Mepps spinner and a light-action spinning rig. While we take pictures of Doug and his catch, I notice rings as more Dollies ascend to the surface to sip mosquitoes. After a half-dozen casts of a #14 Royal Coachmen, I entice an 18-inch Dolly to the surface and land my first fish. Action progresses for the group for the next few hours, with everyone catching Dollies. The best pools offer slack holding water producing upwards of ten fish. By mid-afternoon, about four miles into the float, we land our first Arctic grayling and in the same hole, Connor lands a five-pound lake trout. We are stunned to find a laker down here after being so thoroughly skunked in the lake, but are excited because we now check off another species, one we’d left behind at the lake.

We have planned to float to the upper falls of the Kisaralik and then portage around it on the first day, making it our longest day of travel for the whole trip. Being advised that the best fishing begins below the falls, it’s an easy decision to make, and a brisk pace of four miles per hour allows us to do some fishing while traveling, still getting to the falls by about 8:30 p.m. Its early July and daylight is abundant, so we decide to begin portaging our gear. Two hours later, we have humped the contents of all three boats to the pickup spot nearly a quarter-mile downriver. Now begins the fun of running the boats through the upper falls.

The rapid is composed of two parts—an upper shoot that is navigable, and about 75 yards downriver, the falls themselves. The falls require the boats be lined unmanned down the rapid, which is the main reason all of our gear has been portaged. We successfully get all three boats down the rapid and begin to reload the gear. Out of fatigue or mosquito frustration, I toss one of my dry bags toward the boat rather than placing it in the raft. Naturally, the bag bounces off the boat and into the 4 mph current. I dash for the bag, but am unable to get it as it floats away. In a hectic blur, Wayne and I get everything into our boat and begin rowing at a frenetic pace downriver to try and catch the bag. By one a.m., with our light, spirits, and energy fading, Wayne spots the runaway bag, and we recover it. I took two pieces of wisdom from this experience—always use dry bags when river rafting because they float and keep your items dry, and take the extra effort to place your items into the boat rather than “chucking” them. Doug Anderson was witness to my mistake and insists that I “chucked” the bag. In retrospect, I agree.

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For the next five days, we enjoy beautiful water—catching as many Dollies and grayling as we like. Gradually, we catch a few chum and king salmon, and at about this time we start to find rainbow trout, which begin to appear a few miles downstream from the upper falls where Quicksilver Creek runs into the Kisaralik. Gary and Austin land beautiful spotted ’bows in the 20-inch range. And for Kay Anderson, the rainbows were the fish of the trip. Reporting on the Kisaralik’s brilliantly hued leopard rainbows, she said, “Their color and spots were brilliant, and they put up a tremendous fight!” I have to agree.

It’s also in this stretch of water that we spot our first kings, and from this point forward, whenever our friends find a king salmon, all lines are in the river trying to catch it. It turns out the our companions can’t get enough of the big salmon, and the boys’ faces all light up around the campfire, recalling the powerful Chinook they had fought during the day. Austin captured the feeling quite well. “I will never forget when I hooked my first ever king salmon,” he recalled. “He was huge. He jumped seven times, and then he started bolting downstream. I was standing at the end of a gravel bar, so I had nowhere to go, and I was screaming to my family, ‘Somebody get me a boat!’ It was awesome!”

All of us but Doug use fly-fishing gear to ply the Kisaralik’s waters, but Doug holds his own landing fish on lighweight spinning tackle with regularity. Doug summed up his trip, by remembering both the quality and variety of the fish he caught. “I wanted to catch every kind of fish in the river. I had caught grayling, rainbow trout, Dollies, and king salmon, and then finally on the last day, I caught a chum salmon.” It was the last of the group that made the greatest impression, as Doug noted. “Chum were my favorite because I liked their stripes and the amazing strength they displayed.”

Later on the trip we navigate two other sections of water that demand some attention but are easily floated compared to the upper falls. The first is termed the “lower falls or the S-turn” and is roughly at mile 36 of the float. It requires that you stay along the right-hand side of the river and follow the main channel. If you are too far into the center of the river, the large boulder field could prove difficult to navigate. All three boats make it easily through this section, but high or low water conditions could make the stretch more challenging. The last class III whitewater stretch has been named the “Golden Gate” and is located at about mile 40. It is a beautiful piece of water that carves through narrow rock walls. It is also fairly straight and didn’t present any problems for the three oarsmen. Wayne and I went first and pulled over halfway through the rapid to offer assistance to the other boats and to fish. It’s in the Golden Gate that Wayne lands his first rainbow of the float trip. Shortly after, Jeff lands a healthy two-foot ’bow in the six to seven-pound class. It’s an omen of big fish to come.

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One particular sequence that stands out in my mind came while we were pulled over on the riverbank making lunch. While we waited for water to boil, I cast into a beautiful pool that looked quite fishy. It resulted from a small rapid running over a series of large boulders that form the head of a long, deep channel. In four consecutive casts into that pool, I hook and land a grayling, chum salmon, Dolly Varden, and king salmon—all on the same #2 cerise and purple Egg-sucking Leech with a barbell head.

After the Golden Gate, the river is mostly Class I, but it needs to be respected for its many sweepers and braids. The last 30 miles of the Kisaralik, before we hit the Kasigluk for the last 10 miles of the float, are really braided and present outstanding holding water for salmon and trout. Spend some time hiking in these back channels if you ever get the chance, as you’ll find that the biggest rainbows have moved off the main channel to feed on salmon spawn. Be sure to make noise while you hike off the beaten path, though, as the bears using the river deserve to be warned of your presence in their territory.

It’s also in this portion of the river that one can mouse for rainbows. In one particularly inviting braid, I spent some time casting a large mouse pattern to the edge of the river and slowly skittered it across the surface. Immediately, I had a large bow chase the mouse and make several runs at the fly without striking it. On the fourth cast, the fish finally made up its mind to try and eat what it must have thought to be hapless quarry. Immediately after the toilet bowl flush, I watched two-plus feet of silver fury erupt from the water, jump five feet in the air thrashing its head from side to side, and spit the fly back at me before I could draw another breath. This is why I spend the time to mouse.

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The float trip was incredibly satisfying for the camaraderie, the quantities and varieties of fish, the beautiful pristine country and the absence of crowds. In order for others to be able to enjoy this incredible resource, it’s of tantamount importance that we treat Alaska with conservation in mind. Healthy populations of Arctic grayling signify that a river is in good health, as they are a very fragile fish. The Kisaralik has large populations of 12 to 17-inch grayling, and all users if the river should try to help keep the grayling healthy. Pack out all trash, camp with minimal impact, bury all human waste, catch and release fish properly, and try to leave the river in as good or better shape then when you used it. Observe the rights of private property owners and respect traditional perspectives. Many local residents are concerned about catch-and-release fishing practices. It is important that visitors acknowledge and respect these traditions by respecting their catch and observing careful catch-and-release practices. When fishing any waters, some simple concepts will help insure healthy fish populations, including the use of single hook lures or flies with pinched barbs, keeping the fish in the water as much as possible, and finally, simply cutting your line if the lure won’t easily come loose.

At the end of the float, we were picked up by Kuskowkim Wilderness Adventures at a set GPS coordinate on the Kasigluk River. From here, it is about a 50-mile trip back to Bethel, accomplished quickly in their well powered Wooldridge river boats.
In all the Kisaralik is one of those float trips that becomes etched into your fishing memories forever. Gary said it well, “The Kisaralik has something for everyone. The upper river is stunningly beautiful, while the middle part is full of fish. The variety of fish and being on such a remote river was fantastic!” I agree and can’t wait to find myself floating this pristine southwest Alaska river again, though it’ll undoubtedly come at the expense of another stream I hope to one day visit.

Marcus Weiner is a publisher of Fish Alaska magazine. He can be reached at mweiner@fishalaskamagazine.com .