Next Bend Up

I was born to fish. Raised on the shore of Lake of the Woods and baptized in its frigid waters. I live to fish. My son suffers the same affliction.

One might think that my Alaskan Adventure would include hauling in fishing stories hand over fist. Sadly, I’ve not been privy to the endless salmon runs and the typical Alaskan experience that they advertise. Here, I’ve had to work hard for the few outdoor opportunities that I’ve been lucky enough to snag.

Last Fall I got up river and went fishing twice.

Two.

Uno-Dos.

Successful on both trips, the sensation of holding a homegrown Kivalina Trout or Artic Grayling in my hands left me wanting more. Unfortunately, my next chance to wet a line wouldn’t come until late in to the frigid winter. With a caribou rib serving as my fishing pole, I desperately tried my luck at icing a fish from the Wulik River.

Chance number one was a shot in the dark. Crazy enough to convince a couple of fellow teachers to join me, we set out to find a hole and fish in it. Just being off the island can be refreshing enough and although we didn’t connect on any fish that first time, we did shoot some ptarmigan and enjoy a frigid January afternoon above the Arctic Circle. My first ice-fishing excursion left me wanting more.

Leah using the Eskimo Fish Finder - look in the hole. 

With hook and line in hand, I felt that I had to prove myself a worthy adversary. Humbled by reports from villagers, I was at least encouraged that the fish were there under the ice. As a matter of fact, I could actually see them from a prone position with my face in the hole – the Eskimo Way. At times I found myself frustrated watching fish after fish swim by uninterested in my offering. Occasionally I would laugh at the idea of me, a thousand miles from nowhere, lying with my belly on the ice and my nose an inch from the water. If I could just figure out the Eskimo Way, next year I might have to leave the Frabil Ice House and the Little Buddy Heater at home when chasing crappies on Crosslake. Until then, I pressed on in my crash course in Inupiaq Ice Fishing at a cozy 66 degrees north latitude.

Two or three more chances to hook up came and went with the same dismal results. Optimistic each time but invigorated and interested enough when they came to an end, like any good fisherman, I kept believing that it would happen the next time out. In Minnesota, April 23^rd typically means sandals and shorts weather is upon us if not close by. Here in Kivalina, Spring feels a lot like Winter but with more sunlight. Saturday was cold. The air temp was in the low 20’s while the relentless north wind penetrated the seams of my gear and nipped it’s mid-teens wind-chill in to my core. I chipped away at abandoned ice holes and lowered my silver lure and salmon egg offering in to a few scattered spots.

Once you stick your head in the hole and let your eyes adjust, the crystal clear waters of the Wulik River reveal themselves to you. Muddy and willow branches – too close to shore. Sandy and swift -  too deep. Medium sized rocks with 3 feet of ice and 3 feet of water – just right. Each water column provided its own visual aquarium, a glimpse in to the underworld, but lying on ice in the Arctic has its drawbacks. The sun tries desperately to warm your backside while the ice sucks the warmth right through you. Face down and staring at the bottom of a moving river can mess with your equilibrium but it’s worth the discomfort. It’s a visual treat to identify trout and grayling ignoring your bait. Really, it is.

Skunked again on Saturday. But hope was on the horizon.

Ahquk was out there fishing on Saturday and must have recognized me when I whipped past on the snowmachine. Later in the evening, she text one of the teachers that I was hanging out with. Ahquk wanted to know if I caught anything and when Emma answered in the negative, Ahquk said the fish were biting on the next bend up.

Ahquk is the mother of twin 4^th grade girls in my class. More than once, she has been three miles out from the village on the same stretch of river as me. Ahquk taught me to lie on the ice. Ahquk is one of the few to offer genuine advice. I have confidence in any information from Ahquk because she’s one of the few locals that I know has put in the time. Through text messaging, Ahquk suggested that I might want to try out the next bend up on Sunday morning.

The Inupiaq don’t hunt or fish on Sundays. More than one person, young and old, have told me that it’s in the Bible. No doubt, my friends in Minnesota will be disappointed to learn this. Having only a few weekends of outdoor adventures left before I rotate back, I was willing to risk committing a sin and secretly hoped that fishing on Sunday wouldn’t relegate me to eternal damnation. The risk was real. Ahquk doesn’t fish on Sunday herself but she also knows that I do. I thanked her and readied my gear.

Jon and I decided to head out Eskimo Early on Sunday morning. Getting up early to fish in Minnesota usually falls around 5:00am. In Kivalina, it was a safe bet that Jon and I wouldn’t be caught in traffic at 10:00 am and so we rode out just before lunch.

Much warmer weather made the ride rather enjoyable. We skimmed across the tundra like men on a mission. Sunday would be the day that we both had waited for. Luckily there were atheist fish to cooperate.

Jon and I iced a couple of Kivalina Trout – Dolly Varden (Arctic Char to be exact). Through the ice, we saw a couple of the giants that get to be that way by avoiding rookies like us. We even fooled a few grayling by downsizing our tackle. All in all, we had a splendid time on the next bend up.

I’m off the schneid.

Wulik River - Sunday 4/24/16