I’ve fished rainbow trout on countless occasions, but until this past July, the largest ones I had ever hooked were about 18 inches. I’ve reeled in dozens of ‘bows in the 6 - 14 inch range, but was always yearning and waiting for my “monster rainbow” experience. I knew that if it was going to happen, that there would be no better place then on the Kenai River.
This past July, we found ourselves in the middle of the warmest summer Alaskans have seen in a decade. It was a summer of dreams, with records set for streaks of consecutive days of sunshine and warmth – a long overdue treat given the cold and rainy summers of recent years. The urge to fish was weighing on me and my wife, Devon, so I called up Billy Geiger, Kenai River fishing guide and owner of Drag’N Fly Fishing Adventures. Billy recommended drifting the lower river for this time of year to target resident rainbows and sockeye salmon that were beginning to move into the stream.
I had fished the Kenai River previously for trout, but had never successfully landed anything in that “trophy” size range. I was not deterred, however, because the Kenai is famous for its monster trout in the 20-30 inch range, with even a few lunkers over 30 inches lurking in the river’s depths. I was really hoping that Drag’N Fly Fishing could break my streak of catching only small to mid-sized trout on the Kenai and put me on the really big ones. After all, I was due for a face-to-face meeting with one of these brawny beasts!
It was a summer of dreams, with records set for streaks of consecutive days of sunshine and warmth – a long overdue treat given the cold and rainy summers of recent years.
Towards Trophy Rainbows
Devon and I loaded our gear into Billy’s 19-foot drift boat, with his Australian cattle dog, “Kegger,” at his side, serving as a lookout for bear and swarms of fish stewing in the water. We pushed off into lower Skilak Lake, and Billy quickly motored us through the slack water of the lake and into the swift river with the help of a gas-powered kicker mounted on the stern. What a blessing that was, as I have previously had the chore of having to paddle an hour across the lower part of the lake to reach its outlet, which forms the start of the Lower Kenai River. Billy’s setup got us there in no time, and soon we were fishing.
Billy put us on a couple of 8wt fly rods with varying black leech patterns and orange strike indicators. The setup was about nine feet of tapered leader, followed by two-and-a half to three feet of tippet. The black leech Billy selected for my line was a gold bead head, several inches long and beautifully articulated. He put Devon on a black egg-sucking leech. It was a beautifully crafted egg-sucker, highlighted with a few thin strips of silverfish blue sparkle streamer to draw attention. The egg was so realistic, gelatinous to the touch and had a silvery-white color. It resembled a dead king salmon egg that had overwintered in the gravel before being found by an active spring leech in the river.
These were beautifully articulated, hand-crafted flies – not the pre-packaged kind you’d find in your local commercial store. Billy explained that he selects flies for his clients that are all locally made on the Kenai Peninsula. Not only does this help to support the local economy, but it takes into account the knowledge of local experts that know what works and what doesn’t work on the Kenai. These particular flies were purchased from Brendyn Shiflea, owner of another business with a unique name: “Pretty Fly for a White Guy.” Brendyn ties the flies and sells them out of Kenai, Alaska. He regularly provides the flies that Billy needs to keep the fish biting and make his clients happy.
As Devon and I began fishing, the sun was shining down, warming us and lighting up the brilliant blue-colored water all around the boat. The colors were so crisp through our polarized sunglasses. The contrast between the blue water, our tiny bright orange strike indicators, and the backdrop of trees, mountains and skies all around us made for an absolutely glorious day of fishing. Devon and I stripped some line out from our reels and began fishing on either side of the drift boat with a nice gentle drift.
We reached the first landmark section of the Kenai, known as “the Dunes.” This is an area of four sandbars with deep areas between them. Billy explained that this section of stream is very productive for rainbows. The goal was to let our leeches drift over the sandbar in a couple feet of water, and then naturally sink down with the drop-offs into the deeper water where trout often wait to score a meal. On hot days, in particular, resident fish like rainbow trout and Dolly Varden may choose to forage in the cooler, deeper portions of the water column. Larger and more aggressive fish may choose to defend these prime habitat areas that provide slightly cooler temperatures and a steady stream of food.
The contrast between the blue water, our tiny bright orange strike indicators, and the backdrop of trees, mountains and skies all around us made for an absolutely glorious day of fishing.
As we drifted, Billy called out pointers to help us perfect our roll cast, back towards the oars. We casted and drifted for several minutes, and soon the motion got more fluid – like never forgetting how to ride a bike. While Devon was opting for a more frequent back cast and a drift closer to the side of the boat, I wanted to let my leech have a little longer natural drift. I stripped out line and mended it, letting the leech drift with us. Billy piloted the boat so that it lingered behind the strike indicators a bit. The drift looked natural as could be, and I stripped out more line as we crossed over the third dune, watching…watching…watching. And then… WHAM!
My strike indicator darted below the surface of the water, and I reacted immediately by jerking the fly rod upwards to set the hook in the fish’s mouth. I had let out about 30 feet of line for this drift but had kept it taut, which made setting the hook a breeze. Kegger jumped up, ears perked in anticipation of a fish to rise to the surface.
The fish was definitely on the hook, and I allowed more line to strip off the reel. The fish felt BIG. It was swimming and fighting under the surface, taking out line and then allowing me to hand-pull it back in before reaching the backing. The tip of my fly rod bent down further, and there was no doubt that this was the monster I had been anticipating.
The rainbow rose up to the surface after about a minute of battling, and it was immediately clear that this rainbow was in the 24-26” range. The fish was a mature breeder, older and in spawning colors: olive green with black spots on top, a dash of silver on the side, and a pink hue around the gill plates and striped down the side. The fish splashed at the surface, and Devon cheered. Through our polarized glasses, the visual image of this fantastic fish showed so clearly through the water column, as if it had all the beautiful blue water of the river to itself.
Billy put down his oars and we floated in the middle of the river as he reached for his trout net. Devon and I rejoiced at the sight of the fish in the net, and we were both astonished that this resident fish was the size of a small salmon. Billy was attentive to the fish’s health while we snapped a picture, marveled once more at the beast, and released it back into its home. I had finally landed a Kenai rainbow measuring over 2 feet long, and upwards of 6 to 7 lbs in weight.
We continued on with our drift, and next it was Devon’s turn to get a hit from the trout. Another 10-15 minutes went by and her strike indicator dropped. She knew to set the hook and I was so happy that she had a fish on of her own – a nice 14-incher, which she handled on her fly rod like a pro. It went straight into the net as well. An hour gone by and we had two fish and two pictures to show for it. We continued on our float, hooking into a few more nice rainbows, including one in a place termed “Rainbow Alley” and another known as “Super hole” over the next several hours before stopping to try our hand at salmon.
Switching up for Salmon
Billy brought us to a section of river known for decent salmon fishing when the number of adults returning was still low. It was early in the run, but some fishermen were catching sockeye. We spent some time scouting along the rocky banks of the area and found a decent spot where a fish or two could be seen passing by every few minutes.
Billy put me onto a spinning rod with a classic setup for sockeye salmon – three feet of leader between my split shot and a 2/0 hook fitted with colored yarn. He switched Devon onto a 9wt fly rod and continued to give her pointers, helping her to improve her chances of hooking into the sockeye.
Billy advised us to stay in the shallower water so we wouldn’t push the fish out further into the middle of the river. We fished the spot for about an hour, and we each hooked into 2 sockeye – not bad considering numbers in the river were still needing to pick up. Devon and I each had an instance where we were able to fight the sockeye for a good 20-30 seconds, but the swift water was no friend and these fish slipped off our hooks. The trout fishing was much more productive – and quite frankly, much more fun on this day.
Trophy Rainbow Redux
With the late afternoon approaching and time on our trip starting to wind down, we shoved off from our salmon fishing spot and switched back to our trout rods to drift-fish the final leg of the trip. We would soon approach an area known as the Kenai Keys, a riverside community sometimes referred to as “the Hamptons of Alaska.” There were no boats on this stretch of river, and it was very calm because the majority of salmon were still a few days from making their big push from the sea into the river and moving upstream.
The lack of boat traffic meant I could drift my line out a bit further – perhaps even further than Billy was used to. I was using the egg-sucking leech now, which Devon had used to hook a couple of fish earlier. In my estimation, the longer you can let a proven fly drift naturally and undisturbed in the water, the better the chance for a strike. Our strike indicators drifted quite a distance now. Mine was 60 to 80 feet off the bow, and Billy was just about to call for us to reel in, when – wouldn’t you know it?A second lunker over two feet long struck the leech! This one seemed to fight even more vigorously than the first, but I soon had it under control with Billy piloting the craft.
I asked Devon if she would like to take a stab at reeling in the fish, and she obliged. The rod tip shook and she held tough, pulling in line by hand and then letting out when the fish wanted to run – always keeping the line tight. It was another beautiful fish, splashing around the boat. And the fish, being so thoughtful – when we were just about to net it, politely unhooked itself for us and waved goodbye with its tail before swimming back down to the depths of the lower Kenai. Devon and I gave the high-five to one another and a thumbs-up to Billy. It had turned into quite a trip!
In total, Devon and I tallied ten strikes from resident fish, seven of which were successful hook-ups. All seven identified visually were rainbows, two of which turned out to be trophies in the 24-26 inch range. Including the four salmon we hooked (but didn’t land), and multiple sightings of bald eagles, it was a very successful day on the water. I can certainly say now that Drag’N Fly Fishing knows how to get you on the big fish. And this is thanks in part to the flies they select from Pretty Fly for a White Guy. Billy helped us to hook into not one, but two monster rainbows that spanned over two feet long. It was a day for the books and one we will never forget.
I’ve fished rainbow trout on countless occasions, but until this past July, the largest ones I had ever hooked were about 18 inches. I’ve reeled in dozens of ‘bows in the 6 - 14 inch range, but was always yearning and waiting for my “monster rainbow” experience. I knew that if it was going to happen, that there would be no better place then on the Kenai River.
This past July, we found ourselves in the middle of the warmest summer Alaskans have seen in a decade. It was a summer of dreams, with records set for streaks of consecutive days of sunshine and warmth – a long overdue treat given the cold and rainy summers of recent years. The urge to fish was weighing on me and my wife, Devon, so I called up Billy Geiger, Kenai River fishing guide and owner of Drag’N Fly Fishing Adventures. Billy recommended drifting the lower river for this time of year to target resident rainbows and sockeye salmon that were beginning to move into the stream.
I had fished the Kenai River previously for trout, but had never successfully landed anything in that “trophy” size range. I was not deterred, however, because the Kenai is famous for its monster trout in the 20-30 inch range, with even a few lunkers over 30 inches lurking in the river’s depths. I was really hoping that Drag’N Fly Fishing could break my streak of catching only small to mid-sized trout on the Kenai and put me on the really big ones. After all, I was due for a face-to-face meeting with one of these brawny beasts!
It was a summer of dreams, with records set for streaks of consecutive days of sunshine and warmth – a long overdue treat given the cold and rainy summers of recent years.
Towards Trophy Rainbows
Devon and I loaded our gear into Billy’s 19-foot drift boat, with his Australian cattle dog, “Kegger,” at his side, serving as a lookout for bear and swarms of fish stewing in the water. We pushed off into lower Skilak Lake, and Billy quickly motored us through the slack water of the lake and into the swift river with the help of a gas-powered kicker mounted on the stern. What a blessing that was, as I have previously had the chore of having to paddle an hour across the lower part of the lake to reach its outlet, which forms the start of the Lower Kenai River. Billy’s setup got us there in no time, and soon we were fishing.
Billy put us on a couple of 8wt fly rods with varying black leech patterns and orange strike indicators. The setup was about nine feet of tapered leader, followed by two-and-a half to three feet of tippet. The black leech Billy selected for my line was a gold bead head, several inches long and beautifully articulated. He put Devon on a black egg-sucking leech. It was a beautifully crafted egg-sucker, highlighted with a few thin strips of silverfish blue sparkle streamer to draw attention. The egg was so realistic, gelatinous to the touch and had a silvery-white color. It resembled a dead king salmon egg that had overwintered in the gravel before being found by an active spring leech in the river.
These were beautifully articulated, hand-crafted flies – not the pre-packaged kind you’d find in your local commercial store. Billy explained that he selects flies for his clients that are all locally made on the Kenai Peninsula. Not only does this help to support the local economy, but it takes into account the knowledge of local experts that know what works and what doesn’t work on the Kenai. These particular flies were purchased from Brendyn Shiflea, owner of another business with a unique name: “Pretty Fly for a White Guy.” Brendyn ties the flies and sells them out of Kenai, Alaska. He regularly provides the flies that Billy needs to keep the fish biting and make his clients happy.
As Devon and I began fishing, the sun was shining down, warming us and lighting up the brilliant blue-colored water all around the boat. The colors were so crisp through our polarized sunglasses. The contrast between the blue water, our tiny bright orange strike indicators, and the backdrop of trees, mountains and skies all around us made for an absolutely glorious day of fishing. Devon and I stripped some line out from our reels and began fishing on either side of the drift boat with a nice gentle drift.
We reached the first landmark section of the Kenai, known as “the Dunes.” This is an area of four sandbars with deep areas between them. Billy explained that this section of stream is very productive for rainbows. The goal was to let our leeches drift over the sandbar in a couple feet of water, and then naturally sink down with the drop-offs into the deeper water where trout often wait to score a meal. On hot days, in particular, resident fish like rainbow trout and Dolly Varden may choose to forage in the cooler, deeper portions of the water column. Larger and more aggressive fish may choose to defend these prime habitat areas that provide slightly cooler temperatures and a steady stream of food.
The contrast between the blue water, our tiny bright orange strike indicators, and the backdrop of trees, mountains and skies all around us made for an absolutely glorious day of fishing.
As we drifted, Billy called out pointers to help us perfect our roll cast, back towards the oars. We casted and drifted for several minutes, and soon the motion got more fluid – like never forgetting how to ride a bike. While Devon was opting for a more frequent back cast and a drift closer to the side of the boat, I wanted to let my leech have a little longer natural drift. I stripped out line and mended it, letting the leech drift with us. Billy piloted the boat so that it lingered behind the strike indicators a bit. The drift looked natural as could be, and I stripped out more line as we crossed over the third dune, watching…watching…watching. And then… WHAM!
My strike indicator darted below the surface of the water, and I reacted immediately by jerking the fly rod upwards to set the hook in the fish’s mouth. I had let out about 30 feet of line for this drift but had kept it taut, which made setting the hook a breeze. Kegger jumped up, ears perked in anticipation of a fish to rise to the surface.
The fish was definitely on the hook, and I allowed more line to strip off the reel. The fish felt BIG. It was swimming and fighting under the surface, taking out line and then allowing me to hand-pull it back in before reaching the backing. The tip of my fly rod bent down further, and there was no doubt that this was the monster I had been anticipating.
The rainbow rose up to the surface after about a minute of battling, and it was immediately clear that this rainbow was in the 24-26” range. The fish was a mature breeder, older and in spawning colors: olive green with black spots on top, a dash of silver on the side, and a pink hue around the gill plates and striped down the side. The fish splashed at the surface, and Devon cheered. Through our polarized glasses, the visual image of this fantastic fish showed so clearly through the water column, as if it had all the beautiful blue water of the river to itself.
Billy put down his oars and we floated in the middle of the river as he reached for his trout net. Devon and I rejoiced at the sight of the fish in the net, and we were both astonished that this resident fish was the size of a small salmon. Billy was attentive to the fish’s health while we snapped a picture, marveled once more at the beast, and released it back into its home. I had finally landed a Kenai rainbow measuring over 2 feet long, and upwards of 6 to 7 lbs in weight.
We continued on with our drift, and next it was Devon’s turn to get a hit from the trout. Another 10-15 minutes went by and her strike indicator dropped. She knew to set the hook and I was so happy that she had a fish on of her own – a nice 14-incher, which she handled on her fly rod like a pro. It went straight into the net as well. An hour gone by and we had two fish and two pictures to show for it. We continued on our float, hooking into a few more nice rainbows, including one in a place termed “Rainbow Alley” and another known as “Super hole” over the next several hours before stopping to try our hand at salmon.
Switching up for Salmon
Billy brought us to a section of river known for decent salmon fishing when the number of adults returning was still low. It was early in the run, but some fishermen were catching sockeye. We spent some time scouting along the rocky banks of the area and found a decent spot where a fish or two could be seen passing by every few minutes.
Billy put me onto a spinning rod with a classic setup for sockeye salmon – three feet of leader between my split shot and a 2/0 hook fitted with colored yarn. He switched Devon onto a 9wt fly rod and continued to give her pointers, helping her to improve her chances of hooking into the sockeye.
Billy advised us to stay in the shallower water so we wouldn’t push the fish out further into the middle of the river. We fished the spot for about an hour, and we each hooked into 2 sockeye – not bad considering numbers in the river were still needing to pick up. Devon and I each had an instance where we were able to fight the sockeye for a good 20-30 seconds, but the swift water was no friend and these fish slipped off our hooks. The trout fishing was much more productive – and quite frankly, much more fun on this day.
Trophy Rainbow Redux
With the late afternoon approaching and time on our trip starting to wind down, we shoved off from our salmon fishing spot and switched back to our trout rods to drift-fish the final leg of the trip. We would soon approach an area known as the Kenai Keys, a riverside community sometimes referred to as “the Hamptons of Alaska.” There were no boats on this stretch of river, and it was very calm because the majority of salmon were still a few days from making their big push from the sea into the river and moving upstream.
The lack of boat traffic meant I could drift my line out a bit further – perhaps even further than Billy was used to. I was using the egg-sucking leech now, which Devon had used to hook a couple of fish earlier. In my estimation, the longer you can let a proven fly drift naturally and undisturbed in the water, the better the chance for a strike. Our strike indicators drifted quite a distance now. Mine was 60 to 80 feet off the bow, and Billy was just about to call for us to reel in, when – wouldn’t you know it?A second lunker over two feet long struck the leech! This one seemed to fight even more vigorously than the first, but I soon had it under control with Billy piloting the craft.
I asked Devon if she would like to take a stab at reeling in the fish, and she obliged. The rod tip shook and she held tough, pulling in line by hand and then letting out when the fish wanted to run – always keeping the line tight. It was another beautiful fish, splashing around the boat. And the fish, being so thoughtful – when we were just about to net it, politely unhooked itself for us and waved goodbye with its tail before swimming back down to the depths of the lower Kenai. Devon and I gave the high-five to one another and a thumbs-up to Billy. It had turned into quite a trip!
In total, Devon and I tallied ten strikes from resident fish, seven of which were successful hook-ups. All seven identified visually were rainbows, two of which turned out to be trophies in the 24-26 inch range. Including the four salmon we hooked (but didn’t land), and multiple sightings of bald eagles, it was a very successful day on the water. I can certainly say now that Drag’N Fly Fishing knows how to get you on the big fish. And this is thanks in part to the flies they select from Pretty Fly for a White Guy. Billy helped us to hook into not one, but two monster rainbows that spanned over two feet long. It was a day for the books and one we will never forget.
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Kalb Stevenson is an experienced biologist and fisherman and a long-time Alaskan. He is the owner of Axiom Environmental LLC., a consulting company based in Anchorage, Alaska. Dr. Stevenson has authored numerous peer-reviewed articles, agency reports and popular press pieces in the areas of fish and wildlife ecology and environmental science. He enjoys spending time with family and friends and fishing around the state.
