A short stopover in Glacier National Park, one of the many places that are
possible when you cruise through Southeast Alaska.
competition. We haven’t seen another
boat since Juneau disappeared. Just wild
Alaska in all four directions.
David brings out the tackle; plas-
tic-skirted hoochies, some with orange
heads and chartreuse tentacles, some
hot pink minnies. Both are sweetened
with herring strips, and trolled from
downriggers behind 10-inch 360-flash-
ers. Rods in holders, we watch the
shoreline for bears, wolves, anything
wild, Alaska exotic.
David tells us his wolf story. He
watched it unfold in the snow while
circling in a bush plane. A pack of 12
wolves surrounding several blacktail
deer. The pack moves in a tightening cir-
cle, loping around the fear-frozen deer,
watching for opportunity, occasionally
breaking ranks to dart at a flailing hoof
and snap at a hamstring. One wolf gets
a fatal hold, drops a blacktail into the
snow, the pack swarms and the surviv-
ing deer break for cover. “Those wolves
had it figured out,” he tells us, “and so
did the deer.”
When we look back, the port-rod
is bucking in the transom holder and
pointing at a hole in Stephens Pass
where a chrome flasher is thrashing the
surface. Jim lurches to the rod, pries it
clear and comes back hard on slack line.
Gone. There will be another.
And it doesn’t take long.
Jim replaces the herring strip
positions it inside the tentacles and is
hand-feeding line off the reel before
clipping into the downrigger when the
next silver hits. He hollers, sets the
hook with his fingers and arm, grabs the
rod and…..that’s all I see. My rod has its
nose in the salt and is bucking hard.
Double!
A pair of August hooknoses are bled
and in the box, joined shortly by a
13-pounder that ends the troll. A squall
is moving up the Strait, a purple gray
funnel of drench headed straight at us.
Beyond the squall, sun spears bounce
off old high mountain ice on Admiralty
Island. We pull gear and head for the
unmanned state marine dock at Taku
arriving at almost the same time as the
wind coming hard in front of the squall.