A chrome-sided king salmon from the Sapsuk River on the Alaska Peninsula, caught and released on Spey
tackle and a swinging fly.
remote
chrome
The mighty king salmon of the Alaska Peninsula.
By Glenn Chen
ROUSTED FROM MY EARLY MORNING reverie, and with mental circuits dulled by too many pre-dawn
risings, my response to the take was atypically delayed. This turned out to be a good thing, as lack of sleep
had intervened to prevent me from yanking the fly away from the fish, before it could fully engulf the faux
concoction of shiny tinsel and wiggly feathers wound around tempered steel. Throbbing headshakes were
now sending stupendous jolts up the taut line, and the klaxons suddenly sounded off in my head – set the
hook now, you darn fool!
The resulting reaction from the big chinook that had grabbed the five-inch long, blue and black Stinger
Prawn was nothing short of astonishing. There was a momentary stillness that hung in the morning vapor
— and then all hell broke loose.
The powerful king salmon bulldozed across the river, easily pulling the nylon running line through
the fast current. Reaching the far side, she suddenly decided that her best escape from this unanticipated
torment lay in a return back to the sea. The chrome hen instantly set off on a blistering downstream run,
with dorsal fin and half of her broad body out of the water, muscling against the tight drag in an amaz-
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A
S THE BIG FLY SWUNG next to the bank, I felt a soft pluck,
followed by a series of increasingly urgent tugs before the tip of
my Spey rod was pulled down in a solid arc towards the water’s
surface.