Slaying Kenai Silvers

With nothing but the sound of slow moving river water lapping at the sides of our securely anchored boat, I found myself beginning to nod off. In a heartbeat, that all changed. “Watch your rod tip!” our guide Jimmie exclaimed.

My 34 Hour Caribou

It was supposed to be nothing more than a scouting trip. My wife and two-year old son were headed out of town on a plane to attend a funeral. The unexpected loss of a family member in the Lower 48 meant that the hunting trip I’d been planning would have to be delayed until later in the season. Besides, I had deadlines coming up at work, which somehow seemed to pay no mind to the fact that it was hunting season. 

Traveling Outside - Idaho

Upper & Lower Mesa Falls, Idaho

Cecil and I headed towards the northwest corner of Wyoming with one goal in mind—Yellowstone National Park. With over three hundred geysers, almost as many waterfalls, and holding the title of the world’s first national park, it’s unsurprising that 2012 was the sixth straight year that the park’s visitation reached over 3 million. We were thoroughly impressed by the beauty, the variety of geological features, and the amount of people who had the same vacation plans as we did. Yellowstone is an iconic landmark that needs to be seen, but Cecil and I found the less publicized areas surrounding Yellowstone left equally long-lasting impressions on our memories, making them worthy destinations in and of themselves. 

Beginnings of a Wilderness Education

I have said for years, after I finally reached the age that I truly realized it, that life is an ongoing learning experience. Every day brings something new no matter where you live or how old you are. Living in the Alaskan Bush is a learning experience with a limited number of “students,” a good number of whom survive and thrive. Many default and leave. In the most extreme cases, some do something less than smart, or just plain hit a stroke of bad luck, and don’t live to tell about it. Going into our third decade of living out here in the wilds of Alaska, my family and I have been fortunate. We are still alive, have all our limbs (albeit limited brain cells), and are not just hanging in there…but feel like we’re doing well. The learning curve has slowed in recent years, but we are still learning. The early years (on the other hand) were a bit of a challenge, to say the least…

The Anchor River

Steelhead are a highly sought-after and, at times, a relatively elusive fish that can be found throughout streams of the Pacific Northwest, including Southeast and Southcentral Alaska. In essence, steelhead are an anadromous, or sea run, rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) that return to freshwater to spawn after years of foraging and fattening in the ocean. The Anchor River, often associated with the annual Memorial Day weekend buzz that surrounds the opening day of king salmon season, is actually a fairly decent and quiet steelhead fishery each September and October. This past Fall I had the opportunity to fish it alongside local guide, Grant Anderson, to gather some insider information. I wanted to find out what flies, gear and special tricks the locals use to land the feisty steelhead that swim up the Anchor River.

Racing to the Extreme

As a youngster growing up in Wasilla I would look at the south face of Mount McKinley and wonder what was on the other side. As an adult I had a chance to find out. I began winter wilderness racing in 1985, after I became too old and slow for basketball, rugby and other team sports. The first multi-day Iditaski race started in 1983, inspired by Joe Redington, Sr., the father of the Iditarod. Most of the early races went from the Knik or Big Lake areas out to Skwentna on the Yentna River using winter trails and at times following along the Iditarod Trail. They required the racer to be able to carry or pull on a sled all of his or her survival gear for 200 miles through the wilderness on the south side of the Alaska Range. Bikers and runners were feeling a little left out so those categories were added a few years later, and various lengths and routes were made up to torture the racers. Eventually, the Iditasport 100 was formed in 1991, which combined all the divisions of bikers, runners, snowshoers and skiers into one race. In 1997, the Iditasport Extreme, a 350 mile race, was formed in conjunction with the Iditasport 100 and also welcomed racers from all categories.