Esox Week: Yukon Pike: The Alaska Experience

Anticipation accompanies every new fishing expedition.

The excitement builds as the timing and location of the trip draws nearer. Such was the case during our most recent TV filming trip to Alaska. This would be my first visit to the fabled Yukon River drainage, where pike grow to the size of fence posts by cannibalizing each other and eating any aquatic or terrestrial creature that fits in their mouths.

At most locations, a trophy pike is 40 inches. At premier Far North fisheries, the trophy mark is 42 inches or better. Where we were heading, 40-inch fish are commonplace and those from 40 to 44 inches draw little attention. For guests of Midnight Sun Trophy Pike Adventures (MSTPA), the focus lies on tangling with mega-size pike surpassing 45 inches, and secretly, most guests contemplate the very real possibility of catching one topping 50.

While you’d be hard pressed to find anyone claiming that 50-inch pike are “common” throughout the Yukon drainage, a look at MSTPA’s historical logs reveals that they average nearly one such holy grail pike per week. In addition, this isn’t a camp that accommodates 20 or 30 guests on a weekly basis. Instead, just four anglers per week are tasked with maintaining these lofty averages. More on the outfitter and fishing specifics in a bit, but first, back to the journey.

Getting to Basecamp

Arriving in Anchorage late Friday evening, the winds were howling at 20 to 25 mph, with gusts doubling those numbers. It was literally hold-onto-your-hat weather, as horizontal sheets of rain blasted our faces. Being the second week of September, the airport was much subdued compared to the typical hustle and bustle that dominates the scene during the summer. After Labor Day weekend, Alaska seemingly returns to its natural state. Hordes of tourists have returned home to the Lower 48, content with cell phone photos of calving glaciers, humpback whales, and tufted puffins.

After a brief couple hours sleep at our Anchorage hotel, our trip itinerary had us arriving at Regal Air’s office an hour before our scheduled 9 a.m. charter flight to the Yukon River. As our gear was being weighed and provisions loaded onto the plane, small talk with the airline staff revealed that Anchorage was in the midst of a record-setting 70 straight days with rain.

Rain, wind, and a low cloud ceiling are all things that can put the brakes on even the best-laid plans. During the short wait for our flight, several hunting groups checked in to see if their flights were back on the schedule. Some had been canceled and rescheduled multiple days as a result of the recent rough weather. As luck would have it, the winds had subsided overnight and the skies cleared for our relatively on-time departure. Once in the air, we had overcome another potential hurdle for the trip and the excitement level began building again.

It’s not many pike trips where you begin by flying over stunning, snowcapped mountains in mid-September. An hour into the flight, the peaks of the Chugach Mountain Range transformed into less imposing valleys and then again into a flatter interior replete with trees, shrubs, and grasses ablaze in shades of yellow, red, and brown. Fall had a firm grip on this expansive landscape, which eventually gave way to a woven complex of feeder rivers, braided channels, and drainage lakes of the Yukon River.

A little more than two hours into our flight, the plane banked hard to the left revealing a single improved landing strip adjacent to a small settlement on the river. After a flawless landing, we taxied briefly toward a pickup truck parked alongside the runway. There we caught a glimpse of what looked to be four very satisfied, exhausted and damp anglers from the prior week. The brief change-over period between groups on these trips is always exciting. It’s a combination of introductions, interrogations, well-wishes, and goodbyes, all squeezed into one chaotic sequence as gear is being unloaded from the plane for those arriving and being packed away on the plane for those departing.

The prior groups initial comments were encouraging: “You’re going to love it,” “These are some of the thickest and hardest fighting pike you’ll ever experience,” “There are so many mid-40-inch fish,” “Water conditions are good and the big pike are feeding right up until dark,” “The guides are fantastic and have all the gear you need to catch big fish.” Then they had to throw in something about the weather but with a bit of a silver lining: “Hope you guys like rain and wind, ‘cus you’re going to get plenty of it. Thankfully, the pike don’t mind and just keep biting.” We could live with all of the above.

Then it was down to brass tacks. Truly, how good was the fishing and how big were the pike, and what exactly were they hitting on? The prior group of four anglers caught 131 pike of 40 inches or better. Their biggest was 49.5 inches, with multiple mid-40-inchers caught by everyone, and stories of several giant fish that got away. The one more senior member of the group had fished all across North America and declared that he was done fishing pike after this trip, because he couldn’t possibly top what he had just experienced.

What were the best lures? Although the prior group were primarily fly anglers, they assured us that while large pink and white streamers were their top producers, spoons, bucktails, and glidebaits were equally productive for big fish. Check, check, and check, on the lures. We had all the bases covered and possibly a secret weapon on the big pink hairy thing front. Now, off to the boat.

A short truck ride brought us to the Patriot houseboat, a fully-customized 40-foot catamaran that would serve as our mobile lodge for the week. A large living-room space at the bow was furnished with a couch, a pair of bucket chairs, and entertainment system. The living room gave way to the kitchen and a stocked pantry. Down the hallway were two bedrooms, each with bunk beds. At the end of the hall was the bathroom with on-demand hot water for showers and an incinerator toilet. Yes, you heard that correctly, and you can likely imagine the predictable jokes that ensued.

Being the last week of the season and without any other guests booked during our filming duties, the priority was to take care of a number of housekeeping chores that went neglected during the busy season. Top priorities included essential repairs to the bathroom, installing a new captain’s chair, regular maintenance on the fishing boats, and a deep cleaning of the Patriot. Next, we had a couple-hour ride up the Yukon River. There we would setup our first basecamp and have a good meal. Then the mad scramble to assemble our fishing gear and have a brief session on the water prior to sundown. A couple hours on the water proved that our rain gear and fishing equipment were in working order and a few good pike welcomed us to Alaska.

In Pursuit of 50s

Day-two provided us with our first real fishing day on the water and was a microcosm of the trip and the Alaskan pike experience. The morning started with moderate winds and clear skies that soon gave way to clouds and rain as the day progressed. Although daybreak occurred around 7 a.m., the program was to wait until 1 or 2 p.m. prior to heading out on the water. We would then fish as late as possible and get back to the Patriot as the light was fading around 9 p.m. The logic being that the water would heat up throughout the day and the metabolism of big pike would peak during late afternoon. With a multitude of daily tasks at hand, there was no way to fish all day, so maximizing time and efficiency was critical.

With more than an hour-and-a-half run to our first fishing spot, we were able to get a general assessment of the fishery. It quickly became apparent that the program was not to fish the main Yukon River. Instead, we would target pike in side channels, connecting rivers, lakes, and oxbows removed from heavy current. Scott Rowecamp, owner-operator, and guide Brent Perky had an astute familiarity with the fishery. Throughout our stay, we covered nearly 100 miles of the Yukon, and yet they seemingly knew every mid-lake hump, cabbage bed, productive grass patch, and deep wood shoreline that we fished.

Their knowledge of diverse cover and structure was critical as pike tended to change their holding preferences between locations. We might go into one “lake” and find fish in deep wood. The next spot they would be in shallow grass. Then cabbage would be holding fish. The more consistent producers for big fish were current breaks and color changes at the mouth of channels. These areas might only be 80 to 150 feet long but produce 20 or more nice fish from 35 to 42 inches, along with the occasional tanker.

Let the area rest for a half hour, and it would produce several more big fish. The sheer volume of big fish in relatively small areas was incredible and one of the more distinctive aspects of this fishery. We had several areas where we had a strike or a fish on nearly every cast for upward of 20 minutes or more. When fish were packed in an area, they were jam-packed like I’d never previously experienced.

There were definitely some spots that held more big pike, but we never fished an area dominated by nothing but small fish. With every cast, you felt as though you had a legitimate shot at a 50-inch fish. To my recollection, we also never caught a “skinny” pike. Sure, we caught some smaller fish, but all of them were nicely proportioned, and many were of the extra-girthy variety. This made missing a hook-set that much more painful. There was always that “what-if” factor.

Due to heavy winter snowpack and persistent summer rains, high water dominated the season and water levels were still receding at a decent pace during our trip in mid-September. That made for varying degrees of water clarity from location to location. The front portion of a lake might have 3 feet of visibility, while working farther back into the lake you would lose sight of your lure a foot under the surface. If the bite slowed in areas with less clarity, we quickly moved.

Throughout the day, we caught quality fish on a variety of versatile lures that could be worked low and slow for lethargic pike and also sped up to trigger reaction strikes. A handful of lures made up my go-to list. The first and most productive was the largest size 11⁄8-ounce Johnson Silver Minnow, due to its ­snagless nature and ability to ride clean through grass, cabbage, and wood. The second must-have lure was a Doctor Spoon. Due to its long baitfish profile and thin diameter, it has a slower fall rate than comparable-size spoons and an enticing action at both fast and slow speeds. Third up, a Hirsch’s Ghosttail bucktail, which has tremendous attracting, hooking, and holding power when pike want to chase a bait moving in a predictable straight-line fashion.

When pike were more in a stalking mood, a Harvey Baits’ Psycho Norman Jr. glidebait checked all the boxes. The slightly larger profile of this lure helped reduce strikes from smaller pike. Plus, its slow, shimmying action on the fall and seductive spinning of its unique tail blades make it one of the best Esox baits on the market. Number five on the hit list was the FishLab BBZ Bio-Shad articulated swimbait. Slow-sinking articulated baits have the advantage of incredibly distinctive yet effective actions at both super-slow and fast speeds.

A final must-have was contributed by Rowecamp—his very own ‘spin-tube pink hairy fly thing.” The spin-tube fly rig consists of a 3-inch plastic form that weighs approximately 3/4 ounce. This form is slid onto the leader in front of a large pink and white streamer fly and then cast with conventional gear and worked in a pull-pause fashion. It’s an absolutely deadly fly presentation for use by non-flyfishing anglers.

With the sun getting low and needing just one more giant fish to close out our first show segment, Rowecamp commented that the fish might be moving tighter to shoreline grass. As we rounded a small point, my very next cast was launched to the back of the bay. With the bay flat as glass, the Johnson Silver Minnow entered the water with nearly a slash. I was able to got a couple cranks of line onto the reel when the water erupted. With a long distant hook-set that was only made possible by no-stretch braid, everything came tight in a hurry.

The massive pike battled hard every inch of the way and then proceeded to drag the boat about at will. Finally, the fish tired at the side of the boat, we admired its length and girth. Taping at over 50 inches, this was our holy grail pike, caught during our very first day of filming.

Buzzing from the excitement of the catch, it would have been the perfect time to head back to the Patriot and celebrate with a few cold beverages and a hot meal. Instead, I made a few more casts toward the next point. The line came tight again. This fish was fighting every bit as hard as its predecessor. Could it be consecutive 50-inchers?

Getting good video footage of the fish was our number-one priority. Wrapped in the euphoria of landing back-to-back giant pike on film, we celebrated the moment and released the fish without any thought of measuring her. This second mega pike of the evening was the thicker of the two but likely a tad shorter. In any event, catching back-to-back pike that possibly totaled 100 inches and had a combined weight exceeding 70 pounds is simply incredible and the quintessential Alaskan pike experience.

The 50.5-inch pike from day-one would make number 15 of the season for MSTPA. While we didn’t best that fish over the next four days, we did land multiple fish from 47 to 49.5 inches and lost or missed several others in that range. Those lost fish sting a little less when you have so many opportunities at big fish, but also have you conjuring up thoughts of 54- to 55-inchers that are known to roam these waterways.

Some additional observations about the trip and Yukon drainage pike: The sheer number of mega-size pike in the fishery is amazing. It was far from “silly dumb fishing,” where every cast results in a fish. Working long stretches of water was frequently required prior to making contact with an isolated fish or a pack of fish. Although largely unpressured, the pike generally weren’t recklessly inhaling baits. Often, it took precise casts to pockets in wood, grasslines, or weededges to get a strike.

For as big and thick as the pike were, they often wanted the lure worked slowly and would barely tick the lure on the take. Concentration was required at all times to capitalize on short-striking fish. Finally, the experience left me with a wonderment for the amazing wild places that remain for pike at the top-end of their size range.

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In-Fisherman Field Editor Steve Ryan is an accomplished multispecies angler who travels near and far for trophy specimens of many species, often chronicling details of those adventures in In-Fisherman magazines and guides.

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