Nestled in the wilds of Alaska rests an area accessible only by airplane or boat, having no roads or encroachment by modern civilization. It was there, at the foothills of the St. Elias Mountains, that I spent the first week of September in search of kamikaze silvers in a hidden place commonly referred to as the Lost Coast.

I’d been told by outfitter George Davis that the Alaska Coast was probably the only place on earth you could cast to hundreds of bright Cohoes and watch them eat dry flies. He had told me that it was not uncommon for anglers to hook and land in excess of twenty fish on a dry fly a day. Having heard that, I was pretty much set on spending some time with George.

I was scheduled to arrive the first week of September for some of the world’s best Coho fishing, and my close friend Jake Jordan was going to join me. Jake had spent every summer for the last five years with guide George Davis. Jake told me each of those years that Davis insisted that I visit. Schedules and commitments had made it nearly impossible for me, but this year was going to be different.

The plane flight from Cordova to the Tsiu River is nothing less than spectacular, with scenery of the St. Elias and Bering Glaciers offering numerous photo opportunities. The short flight from Cordova takes you approximately forty minutes.

First Night
After arriving in at the river and getting our housing arrangements in order, George asked us if we would be interested in a short evening of fishing. He had said there would be a high tide at six p.m., and lots of fresh fish should be in the river. My answer was a resounding, “show me the way!”

After a short hop over to the river, it wasn’t long before we were casting  to laid up fish. I watched my partner laying perfect eighty-foot casts to fish fining on the opposite bank. I was amazed at how these silvers lay up near the surface, not unlike sailfish when they lay up near the surface fining in the sun. These fish were easy casting targets but not eager biters. My theory is that they go through some kind of de-salinization process, and when they are in that mode are not really moving for the fly.

I spotted some fish near my feet, gray shadows moving in stealth, no further than 20 feet out.  I cast a “Spanker,” one of George Davis’ creations. This fly has to be the closest thing to a Christmas ornament  that I could  imagine.

The first cast laid approximately three feet from the fish’s nose, and he moved aggressively and inhaled the fly. Piece of cake, I thought as I came tight to my first chromer. What a rush! Eighteen pounds of chrome fury, and I was into my backing in less than 10 seconds. After a few long runs my fish was ready for the taking. I couldn’t believe this fish, a solid 18 lbs. with not a mark on it! Truly the ocean’s bounty! Not only was this fish was as large as any silver I have landed, but every one after that was also just as enormous.

They commonly refer to these fish as whalebacks, and rightfully so, since these male Coho have a body that resembles the silhouette of a hunchback fish, thus the name whaleback.

“Lots of shoulders on these fish,” I murmured to George as I released my last Coho of the evening.

The Gate
Just south of the Camp there exists a river system so remote that half of the rivers in the system haveno names.  Others are simply too hard to pronounce. George offered to take us for a jet-boat ride to the far ends of a virgin valley that is the home of probably the largest silver salmon in Alaska. The name of the entrance to the valley is “The Gate,” a name derived from the impossible logjams that block its entrance.

Davis and his son Jason have carved out a piece of this valley and explored its upper reaches. Here in the headwaters of the  River lie banks that have not been walked upon by man. It is refreshing to find places on God’s green earth where this is still true. It was here that we would explore a subspecies of silvers that would be unlike any we have seen before. George told me of fish that commercial fishermen have pulled from this drainage that have topped thirty lbs.

We were not to be disappointed with The Gate. The fishing was different than fishing the tidal flats of the Aleutian River and Volcano bay, where the fish moved for the dry fly like hungry hyenas on a kill. No, these fish were more sullen. They were deep in pools of turquoise-hued glacial milt. A fly fished slower with a ten-foot sink tip was the order of the day.

Slowing the fly down was the axiom to abide by here. A fly fished deep worked well, as fish moved aggressively across pools to inhale them. We managed to hook several fish close to twenty pounds. The most exciting thing was watching the wakes of whalebacks pushing waves across river to attack our flies.

I watched Jake fishing from the boat, casting directly downstream in front of a logjam. A school of silvers had sequestered themselves under a logjam that only could be effectively fished from the boat-anchored midstream. George instructed Jake on the proper angle to extract the silvers from under the logjam. Jake must have hooked at least twenty fish from the boat. If you ever get to visit George’s Davis, a visit to "The Gate" is a must.

 On The Surface
Few fly fishing experiences can really top catching silvers on the surface. It wasn’t until my last day that I really had an opportunity to fish for them. George drove us to a place on another nearby river, a lower river lake that provided the playground for hooking and releasing twenty-plus fish on the dry before my flight out that last day.

I must admit, I was really surprised by the total numbers of fish and their eagerness to take the dry fly. I had always heard of the kamikaze fish of Alaska chasing flies and eating them like escaping baitfish skipping on the surface. No, this was different. The fish were sipping dry flies like midges! I couldn’t believe it. Imagine a large hundred acre lake filled with thousands of Cohoes--that’s how many fish were in the coastal Rivers.!

The Cohoes moved slowly upstream in the morning light, pushing wakes with their noses. I cast my techno Wog (a hybrid Wog that is constructed with closed cell-foam) in front of a school fish; a beak appeared. It engulfed my fly and tightened its jaws around it. I couldn’t believe it! A sipper! I slowly tightened my line, and it was off to the races. I looked over my shoulder, and my saltwater guru Jake had a fish on also! Doubles!

We released both fish shortly thereafter, taking many  shots (see photos) before the warm light of later morning appeared. This sequence took place time and time again for me and my friend Jake. A glorious morning of fishing that will be forever etched in our memories as one of those perfect days.

 George Davis
Anyone who wants to have a true Alaskan experience owes it to himself or herself to visit George Davis. If you would like additional information and booking information, contact us at  877-801-2289. lwww.alaskatrophyadventures.com

by Tony Weaver