NONDALTON, Alaska — We have shifted our attention from the wonders of the glaciers and ancient granite mountains of Lake Clark Pass and leaned forward to watch the gravel strip rise up to meet the wheels of the charter plane that has just shuttled us an hour southwest of Anchorage to the tiny native village of Nondalton.
Just the briefest moment of stomach churn wiggles around in my gut as the plane seems to come in fast and then bangs down onto the runway, sending up a pelting of gravel and a small cloud of dust. We are thrown slightly forward against the restraints that keep us in our seats as the brakes catch and the squeal builds to a mild roar before the plane begins to slow toward the turn into the taxi space, where we’ll meet our Newhalen Lodge hosts.
I see the slight, kind of jumpy figure of head guide Drew Pozzi as he directs the lodge’s staff to begin offloading bags and fly rods and all the other essentials of a week’s fishing in the Lake Iliamna area of Bristol Bay.
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Fred Sims, the younger son of Alaska legend and lodge owner Bill Sims, is a gentle giant of a man who looks as if he might be leaving soon for an NFL training camp or a pro hockey workout. He waves softly and smiles as if he’s happy to see us. I actually think he is.
This is my umpteenth time at Newhalen Lodge. Rana and I have been coming here for a decade, where I can fish for line-stripping rainbow trout, not to mention the heavy Arctic char that haunt the fast water of the rivers around the lodge.
However, I never arrive without a song in my heart or fail to have tears in my eyes when we have to leave after a week. I know there will be a week of daily flights over some of the most spiritually uplifting wild country on earth, huge brown bears preparing for the arrival of their summer feasts of salmon and, of course, the North American bald eagles that are everywhere.
We greet old friends and meet new lodge workers and guides who get us down the hill to the lodge, which sits literally on the shore of Six-Mile Lake. Sims’ flotilla of lovingly restored and treated de Havilland Beavers, the trusty foundation of Alaska’s bush fishing and hunting and sight-seeing planes, will carry us to different locations each day. We’ll fly fish for northern pike, Arctic char, King salmon and rainbow trout on the Newhalen River, the Nushagak, Tazimina, Copper and other crystal clear, fast-running streams of the Bristol Bay region.
We’ve arrived with our son, Daniel Tilly, and his middle son, Reed, who are goggle-eyed at the beauty and wildness of southwestern Alaska. They will be fly fishing for the first time, but that’s not a problem because Newhalen guides can walk them through the basics and work them into making a proper cast.
All they really have to do is hit the water a few feet away from the boat or where they’re standing in the river. Our first fishing day we make a short flight from the lodge to a rather large lake that’s home to a booming population of northern pike.
There are enough of them that we can sight cast to some fish as they glide over weed beds in shallow water, but I’m drifting a large feathered fly over a deeper grass bed when a pike, long and toothy and strong, shoots up from beneath and nails the fly not far from the boat. I see the take, and so I know it’s a big fish.
I give it time to wear itself down fighting against the 9-weight Pozzi custom rod I had Drew Pozzi make me in 2016. The big guy puts up a serious fight before I ease him close enough for our guide, Will Coates, to try to slide the wide-mouth landing net beneath his heavy frame, but the fish is almost too big to fit inside the net, and he puts on a burst of speed that carries him away from the boat and forces me to pick up the fight again.
The second pass at the net copies the first, but I’m able to hold him close as Coates gets the net beneath him and lifts him over the gunwale and into the boat.
“That’s a big fish,” Coates says as he lays the javelinlike body on a boat seat and stretches a measuring tape from nose to tail. “Forty-two and a half inches!” That’s bigger than the 35-inch pike my 10-year-old granddaughter, Connie, caught six years ago, so I’m happy.
Dan and Reed, meanwhile, are busy with pike of their own, and each of them puts fish measuring close to 30 inches into the boat. We close out the day with a 30-inch fish that I catch over another weed bed. And then it’s a short flight back west to land out front of the lodge and drift into shore.
The next day is our trip to the Copper River, one of the most beautiful floats on earth and where the rainbow trout sport amazing bright red cheek patches that remind me of the native cutthroats I once caught far back into Yellowstone National Park. I catch a very nice one early in our trip downriver to the takeout spot. There are no salmon in the river yet, which is not unusual this early in the season, but I’m anxious for them to arrive because that brings the bears and big rainbows upriver to feed on the eggs that salmon lay to finish out their life cycle where they were born years before.
One thing I’ve never done here is fish for King salmon, partly because I’d rather catch rainbows on a fly rod and I’m a little queasy about taking any of the giants out of the river. But Dan and Reed have never had the chance, and we make a long flight over to the Nushagak River to troll for Kings with Pozzi and Fred Sims.
Most of the morning is spent moving up and down the river from the plane, trying different lures and depths. Reed catches a couple of small fish, and then I hang a heavy one that turns out of be a big King that we prepare to take home.
All day, as we troll up and down the river, we see fish camps where as many as 10 individuals are busy snagging small salmon. It’s not legal, but it’s a way to put meat in the freezer for the long winter.
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My favorite fishing trip in mid-June is to a lake where we catch lemon char. That’s not an actual species but the name Newhalen guides have given to the very large char that migrate upriver into the lake to feed on salmon eggs. We can see a few fish in shallow water when we land, but it lakes a long time to hang one.
When I do, I’m into a long fight with a fish that lives up to his lemon standing. The theory is that the fish in that lake are feeding on snails or other aquatic life that turn them and their flesh a bright yellow color. They are massive and strong, and I’ve caught a couple over 35 inches in the past.
My fish today is nearly 30 inches and matches up well with the mostly silver rainbow trout I catch later on. Nobody else has ever landed a rainbow here, so it’s a pleasant surprise to see him stripping line and turning amazing flips when he jumps.
We also catch some nice grayling and several smaller char, so it’s a good day on the water.
After a so-so day fishing the Tazimina River just across the lake from the lodge, we decide to spend our last day flying to Katmai National Park with Sims to see bears. It’s a grand day, too, because the big males are out chasing females while trying to load up on calories to get them ready for the salmon run and the long winter hibernation that’s ahead.
Sims lands his Cessna on the beach, and we set up for a shore lunch of pulled pork from the previous night’s dinner. As we sit on a long hump well away from any of the feeding bears, Dan walks down the shore looking for sand dollars and the saucer-sized wolf tracks that dot the shoreline, and he’s about 150 yards away when a bear comes over the hump and walks between us.
I yell to alert him and he quickly walks back toward the plane and takes a seat on the left-hand side to wait for the bear to pass. The bear walks directly toward the plane and passes on his side as she heads for some choice sedge feeding grounds behind him.
It’s a great moment for a kid who grew up in Central Texas and now lives in North Carolina. It’s a great moment for all of us, because we discuss it all the way back to the lodge and through our last dinner before our flight back to Anchorage the next morning.
We split up at the headquarters building for Lake Clark Air, saying goodbye to a really pleasant group of fellow anglers. Everybody swears to be back again soon. Then it’s a short cab ride to the Hotel Captain Cook for one more night in Alaska and our flight back home the next day.
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