I got my gear on and headed down to the Bings Landing Fishing Access. It was a steep stairway, and just at the bottom was this gentleman, holding 12 Red Salmon caught by him and his buddy. I couldn’t squeeze in so I headed upstream along the path. I ran into a group of 4, with two teenagers included, and they were walking out with limits of fish. I asked where they were and they actually told me to take a cat walk along the edge when the trail stops, go above the log jams, and fish on the bank side of a big rock. I thanked them very much, stating that they were gracious to have told me.
I booked it down to the spot, only to find two people in the spot, a young boy and a man teaching him how to fish. I stated that I was just watching, and was invited to move in above them. However, the water was fast and I thought better of it. They were so far out that I would have to get farther out so my line wouldn’t hit them. And that was too far for me. A paraphrase from an Air Force statement: There are Old Waders, and there are Bold Waders, but there are no Old Bold Waders.
I hung out and watched them fish on the wrong side of the rock. I told them the information I had heard earlier, but they didn’t change. I just hanged out on the bank for about 30 minutes until all were feeling uncomfortable, so I headed back down to the stairs area.
Many people cut through the dense trees and brush to get to the river, but my legs and stamina were not up to it. After 2 hours on the trail, I finally got into the spot the stringer above came out of. Once I got out there I realized that I was in the Alaskan version of fishing the Mad River in Arcata.
The gentleman in the front left of this picture was helpful and very nice. He caught and landed one small red salmon. I did not know that there were so many people in the water. They all must have pushed their way through the bushes.
Fishermen were actually farther apart than “we” used to be in the Mad River. The method of casting is to flip a line with 3 or 4 centimeter sized bb shot and a fly at the end directly out in front of you. Then one follows the bouncing lead along its path, hoping for a strike.
I fished for an hour. I had beautiful bouncing bb’s during my drift. Alas, no luck. I left the river, climbed the stairs, and realized that I was exhausted and my right leg was not happy. No biggie. I decided since it was only 7 PM, I would drive 10 miles south to check out Soldotna and Centennial Park.
Tight Lines!