The DeHaviland Otter's Pratt and Whitney Wasp engine thundered to life like a hundred Harleys. The pilot pushed the throttle forward and guided the plane down the narrow slough. Water lilies were a few feet from the floats and trees were a few feet off the wingtips. Our speed increased to over 50 mph as the plane negotiated a bend in the slough, one of the floats lifting above the water. The pilot mashed the throttle and the plane accelerated. Within a hundred feet the Otter sprung from the surface and went into a steep bank as the sweet smell of burnt nitrous permeated the cabin. This was a day of fishing where getting there was half the fun!

We checked in at the Mavrik Aire office on the bank of Salamatof Lake in Nikiski. We were instructed to get our waders on and be ready to fish. Don Rock, my fishing partner, and myself were the only passengers on this flight as our guide, Chris, was waiting for us across Cook Inlet at Big River Lakes. The forty-mile flight took about a half an hour. As we made our approach we saw a huge brown bear that nonchalantly looked over his shoulder at the plane.

We were soon back in the air for a short flight to the Kustatan River. The pilot flew upriver a couple of miles about a hundred feet off the ground then did a 180 and flew downriver. You could see hundreds of sand bars and just as I'm thinking he couldn't possibly land here the Otter went into a steep bank and we started our descent. From the cabin you couldn't even see water and in a blink of an eye the aforementioned trees and water lilies were speeding by.

We loaded our gear into a fourteen-foot aluminum skiff with a small jet drive outboard and headed down the slough toward the river. We passed a group of anglers resting on the bank while their guide was finishing up cleaning fish. The cooler was full of coho filets!

"We scouted the river from the air before we landed," Chris said. "Because of the tides, we are going to find fish a couple miles upstream," he added. He told us the silver salmon would swim six to eight miles after entering the river, on the high tide, then rest before moving on. We were looking for holding water.

The Kustatan is a small river and at this time of year is spring fed. The water was colored but not completely opaque like the nearby glacier fed rivers we had flown over which almost looked like milk. Where the sandbars were shallow, the water was tinted brown. Navigating the river was tricky because what looked like a promising channel could just peter out into another bar. Being close enough to the ocean where the tide still comes into play, the Kustatan's sandy riverbed can shift just enough to change the navigable channel on a daily basis. You could hear Chris chop the throttle and the boat would gently come to a stop in the sand. He would then have to pole us off the bar with an oar, or jump out and drag us to deep enough water to fire up the motor. We would then backtrack and find another way up river. Eventually we arrived at the bar he wanted to fish.

Across the riverbed was a narrow fast running slot. The channel abruptly turned across the river. On the far side of the turn was a flat three or four feet deep and the channel created a hole about fifteen feet deep which gradually came up onto another shallow shelf. Chris was certain we would find fish in the hole. Even though the water was a little cloudy, Don wanted to try and see if he could entice the coho to take a fly. I let Chris set me up with roe on a spin rig outfitted with twelve-pound test. "The bite is maddeningly slow. The fish will mouth it three or four times and then swallow it," he informed me.

The bait came out of the slot and gently touched bottom on the far side of the hole. My rod tip twitched then twitched again. The third time it went down I set the hook and came up empty. Chris was laughing. "I told you it was a slow bite," he chuckled. Wait until that tip stays down before you set the hook," he said.

On my next swing through the hole the rod tip was twitching again and again and again. In what seemed like an eternity, the tip went down nine times before if finally stayed down. I set the hook and the battle was on! The coho swam up the far side of the hole and launched itself out of the water as it pulled out line. The silver ran across the top of one of the bars in about four inches of water kicking up sand and spray. Four runs later I was able to subdue the 6-pound hen.

Don made his way back to the bar. "I was working off that ledge and saw a huge fresh bear print. All I could think of was a large furry paw reaching out of the alders and tapping me on the shoulder." he told us.

The catching was consistent. At one point I had four cohos and a dolly varden in six casts. When the bite slowed we would change to a Blue Fox spinner or a Spin and Glo with roe and it would pick right back up.

Chris cleaned one of the fish and cooked it up on his mini gas barbeque for lunch complete with grilled red onions. That could quite well be the best salmon I've ever tasted!

The coho limit on the Kustatan is three fish. If you are strictly meat fishing, the day can be over pretty quick. We were there to fish so we only kept the fish that wouldn't survive release. We were able to fish all day, landing about thirty between the two of us. We kept four cohos with the smallest of three bucks weighing in at seven pounds eleven ounces.

We arrived to our rendezvous point a couple of minutes early and the Otter was there waiting for us. It was a day of fishing I will never forget: Incredible fishing, top-notch camaraderie, short sleeve weather in Alaska and unbelievable scenery on the flight. Life just doesn't get any better for a fisherman.

The professionalism and attention to detail of the Mavrikaire staff went beyond first class and they were a fun group of people to spend time with! If you are ever in the neighborhood give them a call.

For more information contact:
Mavrik Aire Transport
888.628.7457
www.mavrikaire.com

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