HaveKidsWillTravel

Now the Kenai peninsular is renowned for its fishing – and while we are a bit early for the height of the salmon runs, some fellow campers tipped us off about a stream just in from Seward where the salmon were already backed up below a fish weir to the point that there were more fish than water in the creek.

It’s an incredible sight, the fish boiling in the water and leaping from the air up the weir – so intently focused on their task of navigating the river that you can literally reach into the water and grab them. They are a bit slippery to grab a hold of, though, and I’m not exactly sure bare-handed wrestling of salmon is covered in the fishing regulations.

The next day we passed the confluence of the Russian and the Kenai rivers – a beautiful stretch of river that is mecca for fly fisherman – and sure enough, there were already literally hundreds of anglers along the bank, spaced every 2 or 3 meters. Locals reckon that it gets 3 deep, shoulder to shoulder at the height of the season – and seeing the sign outside the local medical clinic advertising “Fishing Hooks Removed Here!”, I don’t doubt it.

But I could just imagine causing an international incident by elbowing my way up to the riverbank with Evie’s pink fishing rod and proceeding to entangle the next 30 lines downstream – the shave can wait.

So when we got to Homer (literally the end of the road on the Kenai peninsular), proudly billed as Halibut fishing capital of the world (and home of ‘Time Bandit’, of ‘Deadliest Catch’ fame), I finally sought some professional assistance. Together with Les, a fellow camper and truck driver from Kansas, and Craig, a local fisherman who had just yesterday caught the 2nd place holder in the Homer Halibut derby (weighing in at 170pounds), we climbed aboard Captain Norm’s mighty Sea Otter and headed out into Kachemak bay.

The weather was magic – clear and still, and Homer itself is set in a remarkable position, a sandy spit in a broad bay fringed by glaciated peaks. Rafts of sea otters bask in the sunshine, and it didn’t take long for the fish to start biting. I was pretty impressed by hauling up a 20-odd pound cod, only to have it thrown back (‘we’re here to catch Halibut!’), along with some rockfish and an Irish Lord. The lines went quiet for 20 minutes before all three lines went at once and bedlam broke out. We were into the Halibut – these are big fish and can take some persuasion to get on board – (“Don’t be afraid if you hear a shot and smell gunpowder…”), but it didn’t take too long to meet our quota for the day (2 per person), and started the troll for King Salmon.

We were motored lazily around and I’d nearly dozed off when ‘Fish On!’ – the rod bent in half, and reel sang – there’s a reason they’re called kings. They are impressive fish out of the water, and even more-so still in it, putting on a fight and a show all the way in. It didn’t take long to bag one each and with bag limits all complete, head back to harbour.

I returned home the victorious hunter – the kids were very excited when they found out they were going to have to eat all the ice-cream to make room for the catch, and Fiona was so excited that I’d run out of excuses for not shaving that she made enough salmon sashimi to feed half the campground.

I just wonder how long it takes for the glory to fade with the reality of having to eat our way through 30 odd pounds of halibut fillets…