July 10, 2010

It continues to be a rainy summer.  Luckily, it mostly seems to rain at night.  The rain drops are a little loud on our trailer roof, but I am starting to get used to the sound.

The rain has not stopped our adventures.  With three full days available to us at this location, we were able to do a few different things, although they mostly included trying to find a continued supply for our targeted two meals a week of fresh fish.  Lucky for me, the grocery stores up here have the freshest of seafood, some at amazing prices.  My favorite is the cod, which is flash frozen on the boats, but then sold cheaply in a thawed state.  Of course my digression confirms our inability to catch our own meals.

We had to check the calendar to make sure we planned our activities to best avoid weekend crowds.  Thursday was going to be fishing for red salmon, but a glimpse of sunshine in the late morning changed our course.  We headed for Fuller Lakes, a hike we have been meaning to do for years.  It is a relatively easy hike, just a couple miles and 1400 feet up to the first lake which has grayling.  We arrived amazingly quickly at the lake and ate our lunch on a knoll that provided a spectacular view of Skilak Lake, miles of way and thousands of feet below.

After lunch, we attempted to navigate around the lake to head for the second lake, but chose the wrong side, the swampy side, and had to turn back about half way around.  We found the real trail on the other side and followed it up and over a pass, and then down to the second lake that supposedly has dolly varden.  We expected the second lake to be a bit more alpine, but found a steep shoreline with heavy vegetation around most of the lake.  We followed the trail all the way to the outlet end of the lake and found a few rocky points from which to make a few casts.  A strong wind was blowing and no fish were found.

We turned around and headed back toward the first lake.  As we were climbing back toward the pass, we walked through a soft section of the trail.  I noticed a bear footprint, a very small bear footprint.  Then I saw another.  And another. 

When I hike in the wilderness, my eyes are always scanning the trail for footprints and scat, the vegetation along the trail for signs of recent browsing or trampling, and the surroundings for motion or animals.  I don’t miss much.  I can miss a lone footprint, but I knew I didn’t miss these.  Any soft spot always catches my attention because I love to see what critters have passed through and try to judge how recently.  These tiny footprints were the worst kind of sign, a baby bear that had been there in the short amount of time it took us to hike to the far end of the lake, fish a little, and return.

We always make noise when we hike and this day was no exception.  We found ourselves in some pretty thick brush along this trail so we were endlessly chattering.  It is a challenge to constantly come up with things to say that won’t seem too weird if some people come around the next bend in the trail, but we feed off each other.  Thursdays chatter included the standard, “yo, bear” with a twist to see who could come up with the best adjectives.  OK, I was glad that no people rounded the next bend during this exercise because it quickly degrades into an exercise of adjectives, not necessarily appropriate adjectives.  I am sure I used every color of the rainbow along the way and bears only come in a few colors, really only two in this area.

Now baby’s footprints appeared to be heading the same direction that we were, never your favorite because if they were heading the other direction, you can conclude that your closest encounter is already behind you without you ever having known it.  So we were on high alert, making plenty of noise when we came upon the lone big bear footprint, and it looked big.  Oddly, it was facing the other direction.

It isn’t unusual for bears to avoid the muddy trails.  Often you find these lone footprints in the midst of a long stretch of mud.  I think they don’t like the mud under their feet.  Our horse was that way.  She would walk the edge of the trail to avoid even the mildest of mud in the middle.

It took me awhile to put the picture together.  Baby bear wasn’t travelling alone and the big bear wasn’t just some other bear that happened to be headed the opposite direction.  The big bear was momma.  And why was momma facing the opposite direction?  It is my suspicion that she was instructing her cub to keep moving while she took a quick look back to see what the hell was jabbering on about blue bears, green bears, and orange bears.  I think there is a good chance that she heard us coming and stepped into the muddy trail for a look.

Normally the advice is to turn around if you encounter recent bear evidence, but when returning on an out-and-back trail, where are you going to go?  It was an intense quarter mile or so.  I finally relaxed when we cleared the pass and headed down to the other lake.  A few more muddy stretches of trail with no tracks helped as well.

The wind was diminishing and the smoother surface of the water provided indication of fish, small though they were, all over the lake.  We fished and had a few hits.  We worked our way down to the end of the lake where I finally managed to hook one small grayling, too small to be of any value as a food source.  We hiked back to the car, empty handed, and drove home.

Friday was red salmon fishing day.  The reports weren’t good, but I went to my favorite spot to see if I could catch just one.  The people next to me had a couple of fish that they cleaned while I was fishing, but I don’t know how long they had been there.  In the two hours I fished, no one caught anything until what was going to be my last cast.  The guy next to me caught one right at 3:00 so I fished another 15 minutes.  I had a couple of bumps that were clearly not the bottom of the river.  You get to know the small stretch you are fishing pretty well so it makes it easier to tell, but I didn’t hook anything.

Our next stop was the laundromat.  We had enough dirty clothes and figured it would be a convenient time for us to do some laundry.  We still need to work out our teamwork on the laundry, but it is still relatively efficient to do all your loads at the same time.

On the way home, Kris wanted to check the internet so I pulled off at the Moose River state access site.  Since we have a state parks pass, we can park for free and a parking spot was open.  A person was fighting a fish from the boat launch so I got out and observed while Kris surfed around.  The calm waters of the Moose River were boiling with red salmon.  I looked up the regulations and thought about putting on my waders, but the boat launch provided a reasonable dry place within casting distance of the fish.  A few fish were caught while I was there for about 45 minutes, but the fish aren’t that interested in our irritating flies.  I had many bumps, but it was probably me bumping the fish and not the other way around.  The fish were in there pretty thick.  I left empty handed.  I only wanted one.

Today was a kayaking day.  We have been talking about Lower Ohmer Lake for a couple of years so we figured it was a good Saturday activity.  These small lakes get very little attention.  Things didn’t start out too well.  A motor boat was zipping around the lake, the driver giving the children aboard a little thrill with tight turns and a little speed.  Someone onshore asked us if the wake was going to be a problem for us, explaining that he had talked to fish and game and that they had permission to make a wake as long as it didn’t bother anyone else.  I explained that our kayaks were pretty stable and that as long as the boat didn’t get close to us, it wouldn’t be a problem.  I really wasn’t worried about the wake from this small boat since a strong wind was creating waves just about as big, but I was disappointed to be listening to the motor.  They didn’t go for too long so we were soon alone on a relatively quiet lake like we had planned.

The wind was harsh, but we started around the lake in the direction that put the worst of it behind us by the halfway point.  We explored the edges of the lake, saw some loons, and a bald eagle cruising over the water.  We approached a point and in the wind protected stretch of water, I noticed a lot of surface activity.  It turned out to be massive amounts of small fish.  I have never seen anything like it in fresh water.  Hoping to find some big predators feeding on the small critters, I began casting around.  I found a few small rainbows chasing my spinner and even landed one six inch fish.  I kept working around the point, anywhere I saw the small baitfish grouping up.

Then I saw something I have never seen in fresh water.  The noise caught my attention.  About 100 yards offshore, a small ball of bait was boiling on the surface.  I think I saw a large fish swirl once.  The bait kept boiling every few seconds or so.  I paddled out to it quickly and even made a few casts along and into the bait, but I couldn’t find the fish that was causing the panic.

I returned to my point after the panic subsided and decided to try a different lure.  Within a few casts, I landed a decent rainbow, almost enough for half a meal.  I figured I just needed to catch another one and hopefully have Kris catch one as well for a good meal.  Nothing.

I gave up and let the wind drift me back toward the car, desperately casting the shoreline in hopes of having more than just a couple bites of fish as an appetizer.  Some of the small baitfish would follow my lure on almost every cast.  Frequently a small rainbow would tug at the tail of my lure, but they were too small to hook.  Twice, I lifted my lure out of the water with one of the small baitfish holding on to nothing but the rubber tail.  It was hilarious, like a small dog being lifted off the ground by a chew toy.

I was almost back to the car when I finally hooked a second fish, this one a bit smaller, but I kept it anyway.  I cleaned our fish.  Their stuffed stomachs fooled me into thinking I was going to get more meat than I actually did.  We had a lovely appetizer, but still no meal.

Our first night here, we took a typical walk around the campground, a little over three miles.  It has become our norm; we go out for an evening stroll and just keep going.  We followed a trail that was reportedly only a mile roundtrip with a view of the lake.  About a mile in, we decided that the trail information was a bit misleading and turned around.  We had found the overlook, but a well maintained trail kept going.  So we followed it.  Right after we turned around, we ran into a young woman and we discussed the confusing trail with her.  She speculated that the trail went to Skilak Lake, the big lake that is across the main road, miles away, and was clearly visible from the overlook.  I have been worried about her ever since.  Someone with that little awareness of her surroundings shouldn’t be wandering around alone in the wilderness.

Tomorrow should conclude a ten night stretch without internet or cell phone coverage.  I should be able to upload a few posts and maybe a picture or two.  I should be able to catch up on what has been happening in the world.  I don’t miss being connected, but I do feel like I am falling behind.