The underbellies of bulging cumulous clouds were beginning to glow in the breaking dawn as Frank Habermann made his approach along the bank of Deep Creek. In the low light he moved carefully to not alert his quarry – plump-bodied, chrome-bright, silver salmon fresh from the salt.
The only sounds were his heart hammering in anticipation and the soft whispers from the swift-flowing riffle he cast into. His Dalai Lama fly drifted downstream in the current, twisting through the turbulence, curving around large cobbles, till it dropped right where Habermann wanted it – a deep, clear pool of slower moving water where several fish were stacked.
A flash of silver could be seen below the surface and instinctively Habermann ratcheted the rod in his hand up to the vertical position. Yards away the water exploded as a still-sea-strong salmon fought with every ounce of its eight pounds.
In the end, it was man who triumphed over fish.
"They're a large, hard-fighting fish that will readily take your fly," Habermann said.
He knows a thing or two about fishing. While Haberman has called Kasilof home for the past year and half, he has lived and fished all around the world, including Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Iceland, Norway and the place he got his start fly fishing: Scotland.
"I started fly fishing there in the early '90s," he said. "I had spin-fished for years before that, but got bored with it. It was too repetitive. Fly-fishing has been much more enjoyable."
There was a bit of contrast coming to Alaska, though. Here, fishing is a common man's activity, and while not necessarily a sport of lords and ladies in Scotland, Habermann said fly fishing there is done with a bit more decorum.
"It was more civilized fishing, with being a technically good fisherman considered very important," he said. "You have to cover 20 to 40 yards while fishing big, 15-foot, double-handed rods with 10- to 12-weight line."
This is strikingly different to many anglers on the lower Kenai River, who target silvers by casting out a clump of salmon eggs as bait, hammer a rod-holding sheath into the shoreline, then unfold a lawn chair and sit back and wait while the eggs soak.
"I'm not particularly keen on the bait fishing going on," Habermann said.
Not everyone at Deep Creek chooses to relax quite so much as the folding-chair fishermen, but even the folks staying on their feet and working spoons, spinners or other artificial lures will move minimally. Some anglers will stand in a sweet spot for hours, according to Habermann.
"In Europe and Scandinavia, the unofficial rule is one-cast, one-step. This keeps people moving and eventually everyone gets to fish the hotspot pool," he said. "It utilizes the resources for everyone's enjoyment, but here, people will stay on a hotspot. Some act like they own it and guides will put their clients there for hours. It's not a very sharing attitude."
Still, Habermann said he has globe-trotted enough to know that when fishing in a foreign land, you go with the flow, so he does. While the only fly fisherman on Deep Creek most days, he said he believes there's plenty of river to fish.
"Also, fly fishing is one of those things you do for the activity. Even if you're not catching fish, it keeps your mind exercised. It's about mastering a technique," he said.
People crowding the honey holes just forces Habermann to work harder at what he enjoys. He'll hike from the Sterling Highway bridge downstream to the salt to avoid crowds, or he may work his way upstream, through tall grass and thick alders, to the two-mile boundary marker.
"I stay focused on where people are since I cover more of a radius with my casting," he said. "I also move around a lot. I like to explore and get exercise, so I'll hike the river and stalk the fish. I'll keep my distance and cast, from behind the fish, 10 yards upstream, or, I'll stand under trees and roll cast or spey cast so I don't have to raise my arms overhead. It's more of a stealthier approach."
While sight-fishing for silvers is what draws Habermann to the currently low-flowing and gin-clear water of Deep Creek, he said this type of fishing is not without its drawbacks. Silvers can spook easily, so it takes skill and patience to be successful.
"In close quarters, such as fishing an eddy, the salmon will eventually see you as they turn to chase the fly," Haberman said. "Under natural flow, I'll fish a pool from top to bottom, and if I sight a fish and think I've spooked it, I'll hike on, but eventually come back to it."
At certain times of year or when targeting certain species, the fly selected can make a difference, and Habermann said he bounces between three main patterns: Dalai Lama, egg-sucking leech and one of his own creation which he opted not to reveal.
However, he believes presentation is far more important in terms of silver fishing, if not fly fishing as a whole.
"To do it correctly is a very technical thing and the learning curve is long, which may be why fly fishing for silvers seems under-regarded here," he said.
Even back in Scotland, Habermann frequently saw anglers who had spent thousands on fly-fishing vacations go home empty handed because they didn't spend enough on casting lessons before they came.
"They had the money, but didn't want to spend the weeks to months of time to learn the proper technique," he said.
Habermann's own technique has been paying off. Within a few hours he has consistently caught his two-fish-a-day bag limit for weeks now. In the afternoon he usually jumps over to the Kenai River, where he picks up a few more silvers with some regularity, and these are larger, 10- to 15-pound fish, rather than the 7- to 8-pounders he typically hooks at Deep Creek.
While there are fewer days ahead than behind in regard to the fishing season and the silvers' bite is becoming a bit more finicky, Habermann said he'll continue his piscatorial pursuits till the weather shuts him down.
"Last year, some of the best days I had were just before winter when the rod rings iced up, and even then the fish were still coming in," he said. "So I'll fish until the fly line becomes unmovable."
FISHING REPORT: How's the fishing this week?
Joseph Robertia is a freelance writer from Kasilof.