My first 4 months in Alaska, was spent caretaking a homestead, a guide used for a hunting camp. The camp was 60 miles from the nearest town on the Alaska Peninsula. He was guiding in another part of the state and wanted someone to watch out after the cabin he had recently built. I was 25 years old, and looking for an adventure, I thought it sounded like a great way to spend the summer and fall. After talking with the guide over the phone for a few minuets I drove 150 miles and met him in Wasilla that evening. The next morning he flew me in his plane 300 miles landed on a small dirt runway and dropped me off at the cabin. It was the first week of July 1988. He told me there were fish in all the streams and lakes but to watch out for bears because they were everywhere. He said do not go anywhere without a rifle he gave me, but to not shoot any bears unless I absolutely had to. He said they will false charge often, but will usually stop at about 5 yards away. If they don't stop make your first shot count. He then got in his plane said he would be back in October, and left.
I spent the summer exploring and fishing streams that had never been fished. They were all full of spawning salmon, along with char, Dolly Varden, and grayling eating the eggs of the salmon. The streams required long difficult walks that took anywhere from 1 to 3 hours to get to, but were well worth the effort. The fishing was amazing, and I have many fond memories of that summer. I did get sick from drinking the water, but after a couple of weeks my body got used to it, and I wasn't bothered by the water anymore. Some of the places I fished have not seen a line since that summer. The owner of the property takes fishing clients there, but none are willing to make the strenuous walks to get to the true virgin water. I don't blame them, there is plenty of great fishing close to where you can land a plane. On the 31st. of October I heard a plane, and the outfitter came and flew me back to civilization. He was happy to see I had survived, and was glad to hear I hadn't had any problems with bears.
I ended up spending that winter trapping in the same valley, and worked for the outfitter for over 20 years. I learned to fly bought my own Piper cub and flew over the area often. Every time a flew over one the small streams I walked to that summer I would first cringe at how much work it would take to fish there, but would always tell myself that someday I would take the time and make the effort to fish there again.
I still tell myself I need to go back and fish a couple of those streams. The guides children now own and operate the guiding service. I still keep in touch with them, and they are always asking me to come visit, and go fishing one more time. They still refer to many of the places by the names I gave them, and tell their clients stories of my summer of exploration.
I now live in Mexico and still explore new places to fish with my kayak. Most of the places I bass fish take some effort to get to, and have few if any other anglers, but none are as remote as those unfished waters in Alaska. Unfortunately my joints and back have failed me, and I will never be able to get into the kind of physical condition I would need to walk for hours in the marshy tundra so I wont be going back to any of those magical places, but I will always have the memories of casting a line in places that no other angler has ever been.
