Return to Clarks River

Each September we pick a day when the forecast is for clear skies, pack up our gear, and head up the lake to Clarks River. In years past, we hiked a three-mile honda trail across a rolling landscape of tundra, berry bogs, salmonberry brakes, meadows and dense stands of alders and willows. This year, we took our scow up the lake and beached it on the sandy shore near the mouth of Clarks.

The Silver fishing here can be phenomenal, though it is seldom as easy as the fishing further downriver. By the time they’ve arrived at Clarks, the salmon have been in the river awhile. Although many are still silvery bright, we’ve found them somewhat less inclined to come to our flies than are newly-arrived fish. Nonetheless, basking under blue skies while presenting flies to 10-pound fish cruising the lake’s shoreline is a pleasant change from swinging streamers in river current. We can often see the takes as a salmon peals off from the pod of fish it is swimming with and turns to inhale whatever combination of fur and feather we’re offering.

At some point, the urge to explore the lower reaches of Clarks River itself overtakes us. As we make our way across the sandy beach and then along the well-worn bear path following the river, we never cease to be amazed by evidence of just how many bears fish here. The trampled, matted down vegetation strewn with salmon parts suggests more of a bear highway than a bear trail. There are always a few eagles hanging around, seals, gulls, mergansers and other ducks, and we’ve come across the tracks of otter, mink, moose, wolf and wolverine.

The salmon are always there in September, so many that at times they seem to carpet the rocky river bottom. Every so often a fresh school of fish enters the river, and when they do they sometimes come in such numbers that the wake they push before them looks like a tidal bore. As with the lake, in Clarks’ extraordinarily clear water, the fishing is not a given. But with the right fly, thoughtful casting and patience, we manage to coax a few. The challenge is part of the enjoyment, as is the knowledge that most probably ours will be the only flies any of these salmon ever see.

It is difficult to make a good photo of Clarks itself and the salmon we catch there. During early morning in September, the mountains that cup Clarks keep it in shadow. By the time the sun rises above those jagged peaks, it shines very bright. The process reverses itself as evening approaches, the valley abruptly transitioning from bright to dark in moments as the sun disappears. Barbra made the above photo in the evening of September 12 along the lakeshore just below Clarks. Shirtsleeve fishing in Alaska in September is not a thing to be expected, but each year we’ve picked a day or two, made the trek to this pristine river, and lucked out. (Nikon D800, 24-70mm f/2.8, 1/1000 at f/8.0, 31mm, ISO 400)