Late Night Prize.

Did you know that the average time for a non-guided fisherman to catch a king is twenty-six hours?

Noticed how I said "fisherMAN" and not fisherWOMAN.  

Because last night, after a mere two hours of drifting near Eagle Rock, I caught myself my first King.  

And I've lived here how long?! 

Better late than never right, am I right? 

It's peculiar to me, but this is the most fishing I've done in a summer in a long while and I can't understand why. Fishing is fun! The second I buckle up that life jacket and join my dad on the water, I feel this incredibly nostalgic and powerful feeling, like why would I ever want to live anywhere other than this beautiful place? It's overwhelming.

It's especially important to me to be able to spend so much time with my dad. He's a cool guy, and learning all the fish facts from him (from a guy who moved to Alaska without a clue how to fish for salmon!) and being able to implement those into actually catching a King? Well that's just priceless.

High fiving him past ten at night in front of all those other watching fishermen, sitting and hoping for a bite until late in the night and then boating home watching an incredible sunset? Well I wouldn't trade that for the world.

So yes, my first King was obviously a prize, but more important, it was the time spent with Dad that I'll cherish more.


Captain Krull, ready to rumble!


After motoring about fifteen minutes downriver, we parked ourselves horizontally, motor in neutral, cast our line out twenty or so feet, and proceeded to drift downriver, rods at the ready.


The location for the evening was recommended to me by my coworker, a spot called Eagle Rock. It's named after 1.) the rock sticking out of the water 2.) an eagle nest nearby. While the eagle nest is no longer there, an eagle did stay perched during our numorous drifts down, and if you look closely, you can spot a brown bird at the top of one of the trees there in the distance...


An hour and a half goes by, and all of a sudden, I feel my rod tug violently downwards. I stand up quickly, setting the hook, and proceed to reel in. Not feeling a terrible fight, my first thought was that I had lost it, but when I felt him fighting, I continued to reel in. My second thought was that I had caught a red, for it didn't feel like I thought a King would feel, but when the fighting fish surfaced, there were spots and Dad proudly exclaimed "You've got a King!"

Ain't he a beaut?


As you're only allowed one King per day (and only five Kings in the upper Cook Inlet, fresh and salt water), I had to retire my pole for the night and instead cheer Dad on.

Just look at that enthusiastic face!


We fished late into the night. The sun set, more and more boats headed back in, and yet Dad and I continued to hope for just one more...


Alas, the fish weren't biting, and so we packed up our poles and made the chilly ride back home.


What a view to end the evening...