August 3, 2007

Our Kodiak adventures continue, although yesterday was nearly a washout. We woke to rain and it only teased us about stopping a couple of times throughout the day. We weren’t dissuaded though, we got out there and explored.

Our target for the day was to explore some of the farthest reaches of the road system in Kodiak. It took over an hour to get to Fossil Beach. Getting there involved driving past a rocket launch facility with a sign that affectionately referred to itself as “The other cape”. This odd facility was really in the middle of nowhere with some strange tall buildings and ominous signs that warned of life threatening hazards when flashing. The lights were not flashing.

We also had to drive through some grasslands along the world famous Pasagshak River. Yeah, I know, you never heard of it either. It is just well known because they have exceptionally sized silver salmon, kind of like the Kenai River is legendary for its large king salmon.

The grasslands are used for open grazing and a failed bison experiment wanders about aimlessly, crapping on the road and leaving hoof prints everywhere. They graciously remained off the road while we drove by, but it was oddly reminiscent of parts of Yellowstone.

Fossil Beach is right on the Pacific Ocean. It is a surfer’s beach with big breakers. It also has some sand, a rarity in Alaska. The sand stretches for a few hundred yards before the beach ends at large cliffs. At low tide, you can walk between the cliffs and the water. Layers of ancient clams mark the previous locations of the seabed, giving Fossil Beach its appropriate name. It was low tide so we walked beneath the cliffs in either direction for a ways. It presented some tough choices. If you stayed away from the cliff, the rocks were covered with slippery seaweed. Near the cliff, the continuous rain was causing the continuation of the erosion exposing the fossils. This resulted in small rocks raining down toward us on several occasions. The large rocks at our feet reminded us of the real hazard from above. We chose to pick our way through the seaweed where we could.

We saw a black oystercatcher on the beach. They are common here, but I had never seen one before.

After our beachcombing, we headed toward Chiniak. Along the way, we stopped at a winery. A winery in Kodiak doesn’t sound like a winner, but it was a nice place. They had a nice tasting room and we sampled their wines. Grapes don’t do well at this latitude, so we were left with wines made of salmonberry, raspberry, and rhubarb, along with a couple offerings made of imported strawberry and blackberry juices. Rhubarb wine is made by freezing the stalks and then upon thawing, the juices release. The owner even gave us a sample of the raw rhubarb juice. The wine was better. We enjoyed all of his wines, simple though they were, and peculiar in their origin. We even bought a bottle of salmonberry champagne to try some evening when we are feeling festive where the possibility of crappy champagne wouldn’t ruin the festiveness. I am sure we will find the right occasion.

After our brief stop, we continued on to Chiniak. We got briefly lost on some trails, virtually indistinguishable from the road. We finally read our map and realized we had gone too far. We found a suitable spot to park and hiked along the beach to a WWII era bunker high on a bluff. We explored the building with the flashlight I had in my backpack. It felt good to get out of the rain for a few minutes. We saw the same kinds of installations in Seward, but the gun turrets seemed more complete in Chiniak. Huge chunks of iron were strewn about. It was bizarre.

Chiniak Creek flowed into the Pacific near where we parked. We had seen a huge school of pink salmon trying to get through the culverts under the road. A few fishermen seemed incapable of getting their attention. Offshore a few hundred yards, a successful fishing effort was underway. A group of sealions (pride, herd, pod, gang?) was surfacing. Occasionally a large head would emerge with a pink salmon in its mouth. The head would perform the predator shake, the back-breaking move we saw our dog do to a groundhog in Ohio, the move our cat does with some of her toys. It was an awesome site. We watched through binoculars and our rainspotted glasses.

After our hike, I went down to the creek while Kris sat in the car to dry off a little. I was stunned at the masses of pink salmon entering the mouth of the stream. At times they would surge, the water level would rise and boil, and fish would end up on shore briefly. It took some effort, but I found some lures that interested them. They were tough to catch, but I landed a few legally caught in the mouth. I also landed a couple hooked in the side. When the fish are that thick, it is hard not to occasionally snag one. I released them all safely back into the stream.

It was getting late as we headed back to town, but I pulled off at Mayflower Beach. It had caught my attention earlier in the day so I hopped off the road onto a trail that led to the beach. We parked on the beach and watched for a few minutes. Some salmon jumped and I told Kris we were going to try to catch some fish here. We hopped out of the truck, grabbed a couple rods, and walked a few feet to the water. We cast for awhile, occasionally seeing a fish jump. Then I noticed the huge school of fish gathered near the outlet of a small stream. We started casting toward the fish. Kris snagged one and fought for a long time to land it for release. It was a pink salmon. Snagging a fish midway on its body makes a small fish seem much larger. I snagged one nearer the head, but it managed to get away. Kris grew bored by the fish not being interested and didn’t really welcome the possibility of another difficult fight.

I suggested that we could have dinner at the beach instead of driving all the way back to the campground. The one advantage of tent camping in bear country is that you must put your stove and food back in the car each night. We had everything we needed for a nice dinner on the beach.

After dinner, I decided to try the fly rod on the beach. Kris stayed in the car and read a book. I headed to the outlet of the stream and the fish were gone. I saw a few fish jump about a hundred yards up the beach, so I began working my way in that direction. I finally found the school. Most of them seemed pretty sedate, slowly swimming in the outgoing tide. I soon found that the fly rod was perfect for this situation. I could put a fly near the fish and give it just a little action. Sooner or later, a fish would just swim up and grab it, not aggressively, just gently picking it up in its mouth. The calm clear water in this large bay off the Pacific Ocean provided me a clear picture of the action. I caught two nice pink salmon this way, each taking impressive runs against my light tackle. I actually managed to snag one in the back with a small fly hook so I had that painful battle to deal with as well.

We then headed back to the campground, used our shower system in the tent, had a cookie and a glass of wine, and went to bed. It was an exhausting day of being out in the rain and cold.

Today was a little better. The rain stopped and the sun tried to peak out a couple of times. We were slow to get started. The damp cold made it hard to get out of the sleeping bag. We decided to explore the park here at our campground, the old Fort Abercrombie. We walked around the perimeter of the park, watching the puffins and other birds along the shore. We explored a few of the bunkers perched along the bluff.

We found a beach access and headed out beneath the bluff, taking advantage of the low tide. We began exploring the tide pools that formed along the rocky beach. We found all sorts of strange sea life, small fish, anemones, starfish, and other strange creatures. We saw a puffin grooming itself on the cliff above us. It is fun to look into these pools, like looking into aquariums. They invited us further beneath the cliffs, leaving us with a treacherous journey back to the beach over seaweed covered rocks.

We stopped at the park office and looked at their literature and displays. I asked why the guns around the island were busted up, with huge chunks of iron strewn about and cracked into random pieces. They confirmed what I expected, the military had blown up the guns when they were done with them. We even found a section of one of the guns at the base of the cliff in the tidal zone.

We had lunch at the campsite and then headed out for the afternoon. We stopped at the military museum near our campsite on our way out. It was an excellent museum with interesting pieces, most of which were not hands off. The displays primarily detailed the WWII era military history of the island. Kris found a picture of the observation tower that was originally located at our campsite, the foundations for which are currently holding up our tent. The museum was housed in a bunker that had the identical layout to the bunker we explored at Chiniak yesterday. We found out that the bunkers were used to store powder and projectiles for the big guns. We really enjoyed this museum.

Then we headed out to another end of the road, the road to Anton Larsen Bay. The road provides access to a couple of boat launches that appear to be a jumping off point for more remote adventures on the island. It also appears to be a popular kayaking area. We thought about taking a hike, but we were tired and the weather was still cloudy and cold.

We drove back toward civilization and headed to Buskin. We stopped at the visitor center before heading down to the mouth of the river. This is one of the more popular rivers in Kodiak, probably because of accessibility. Of course the pink salmon run isn’t as popular, but this was the first fishing location in Kodiak we saw that had a significant presence of fishermen. I fished for a couple hours, trying almost every rod I had in the truck. I never had another fisherman particularly close to me and I never lost my spot when going back to the truck to get a different rod. What finally started to work for me was my ultra light setup. Perhaps it was just the timing of the tide when I tried the rod, but I started having good success with a small spoon. I hooked several, landing one beautiful looking fish. One of my hookups was one of those fun situations of casting in front of several visible fish and watching one of them respond by picking up my lure. The last hookup was a particularly feisty fish. It was too much for my light tackle, taking numerous runs that made the drag on my small real groan. It eventually twisted awkwardly near the shore, perhaps running my line over a rock, perhaps getting it with a tooth or gill. The light line popped with an explosive snap and the fish ran away with the spoon.