Fishing nirvana delivers unexpected ‘Alaska moment’

Spoiler alert: No fish were harmed in the writing of this tale. I, too, receive a similar disclaimer before I’ve cast my rod when our instructor, Cedric Witham, announces, “The likelihood of us catching a fish today, and landing it in the net, is very low.”

Salmon doing their thing in Alaska.

Fly-fishing, one of many wonderful onshore excursions offered on board Queen Elizabeth, is my pick at our port stop of Sitka, Alaska, during Cunard’s 10-night cruise through the Inside Passage. Given Alaska’s reputation as a fishing nirvana, I’m keen to try it.

“This is about the experience. I hope you’ll learn skills and enjoy the environment,” says Witham. And, as if anticipating our fishy fantasies, he warns, “Some people have absurd expectations.”

Despite being a novice, I’m hoping secretly to reel in a 12-pound Alaskan salmon. So are the group’s other three fisherfolk.

My partner, an avid vegetarian, is competitive, nonetheless. Debbie explains that her fishing-champion husband has never visited Alaska; in her words, she’s “here to rub his face in it”. Eighty-three-year-old Stan wants to reignite a passion of his youth. When we’re fitted out with waders at “Sitka Alaska Outfitters”, he says, “If I fall and float downstream, just let me go. What a way!” I hope not.

To reach our fishing spot, the Indian River, we drive through Sitka, a small town of 8400 located on Baranof Island that’s surrounded by temperate rainforest. It was home to the Tlingit people before Russians arrived in the 18th century, attracted by otter furs.

As we pass St Michael’s, Sitka’s historic Russian-style cathedral, I cross myself for luck. I’ve envisaged the scene: I’ll hook a pink salmon, take a souvenir snap, and release the relieved fish. It will then continue its salmon run: swimming hundreds of kilometres upstream to spawn at its birthplace, before expiring.

Sitka, Alaska and the Orthodox Cathedral, St Michael.Credit: iStock

We park in a clearing and enter a forest of Hemlock and Sitka spruce trees. We’re warned to keep an eye out for bears. Thankfully, it’s a short walk along a track to a gravel bar, the river bank. The flowing water sounds like wind chimes. The clouds part and the sun streaks through red alder trees that line the edge. Pure Alaska.

Cedric hands us a rod, each pre-threaded with line and a “fly”, tiny pieces of fluff and hair that are meant to resemble a fish-loving insect. Rule one: “A fly imitates a bug; you want to imitate a mosquito, a nymph or a mayfly”, says Cedric. “We’re trying to match the behaviour of whatever is swirling on the surface.”

Next, “Casting 101”. Cedric runs through the rod’s physics, the need to transfer the energy through the line. Rule two: “You’re not chopping wood like a hatchet, but rolling a paint brush over a curved surface”. I flex my wrist back and forth.

Cedric casts. It’s a smooth and elegant action. He pulls the rod up slowly, then faster until his rod is vertical overhead. He pauses slightly at the top to allow the line to snap back horizontally. He then flicks the line forward, guiding it with the front of his rod. Finally, to keep the line taut and feel bites, he transfers the loose line from his left hand (that’s been feeding line into the water) to under his right index finger.

The waterways around Sitka.

We spread out along the bank, occasionally wading into the shallow waters. Flex. Snap. Guide. Withdraw. Repeat. I pause now and then to rest and absorb the wilderness: lush plants, gushing river and crisp air.

Ironically, the only nibble of the day goes to my vegetarian partner; it’s fleeting, but a bite nonetheless. Meanwhile, Debbie wanders downstream convinced of better locales. I spend time unsnarling my line from pesky overhead branches. And, Stan (who very much survives) finds his groove; he’s declared “best caster”.

In our final moments, I try harder to channel my inner bug. I’m unsuccessful.

So, I’m gobsmacked when Cedric enthuses, “You show great possibility. You have the technique to crush Australian rivers!”

There it is: My “Alaska moment”.

Given the potential for sighting bears or (goodness me!) catching a fish, it’s not the revelation I expected.

But Alaska is quirky. It hooks you in ways you least expect.

Cunard’s Queen Elizabeth run several onshore excursions.

DETAILS

Cruise
Cunard’s ten-night sailing through the Inside Passage departing Vancouver on Queen Elizabeth (based on June 2024 departure) starts from $2349 a person twin share.

A variety of onshore excursions are available at each port. These include wildlife viewing boat trips, glacier flights, fly fishing and cultural visits (prices from $60 for a walking excursion; fly fishing $435). See cunard.com

More
travelalaska.com
visitsitka.org

The writer travelled and fished as a guest of Cunard.