Taku 2009 - 2:  Sockeye Creek
September 6-8


Looking down Stephen's Passage from across Taku Inlet (Grand Island on the right)

We had a three day weekend ahead (Labor Day).  Exhausted from the previous weekend putting up the ceiling at Snettisham and less than anxious to take time off work to catch a 2:00 pm tide, we decided to spend Friday night in town.  Saturday dawned clear, sunny, and.....breezy.  It was one of those times when the forecast is unfavorable, but you go and check it out anyway.  We headed out at 12:30 with ample time to come up the river on a rising tide.  I was feeling festive in the bright sunshine and Chris was wearing aviators.  The channel was surprisingly calm, especially as we pulled in front of Sheep Creek where I expected the north wind to funnel down.  A few minutes later, we felt its force, ripping up a tight chop and blowing so much of our wake over the side of the boat that our gear got wet in the sunshine.  It was a nasty wind and we hugged the mainland shore to escape it as much possible--like a Taku wind, maybe, without the freezing weather.  At times it seemed to come from all directions and we couldn't put it on the stern whatever direction we were going.  Turning around Point Salisbury was a welcome relief, with only a light sea coming from the south.  As we approached Bishop Point, however, we could see white caps on the other side coming from the river.  As soon as we rounded the point we hit steady, tight three footers and the inlet was an ocean of white caps ahead.  The seas were so squirrelly that I couldn't prevent the boat from getting pulled this way and that, coming at the seas in less than ideal angles.  Most of the time it was bearable, but pairs of nasty swells would come in and slosh green water over the bow and I was helpless to prevent it.  We didn't take too many of those on before I turned the boat around.  I could have made it to Cooper, but there's still a long stretch from there into the river.

It was an unhappy homecoming, the first time I'd turned around for weather from the Juneau side.  Unfortunately, we had to pass back through the unpleasantness in the vicinity of Sheep Creek and by that time the relative calm near the harbor had given way to chop as well.  A cacophony of clanging and whistling met us in the harbor as boats rocked dramatically in their slips.  Sometimes I think the harbor is better protected from south winds than north winds.  We sadly loaded our gear up the ramp and headed home.

I didn't expect another chance to make it up the Taku this summer because of tides and scheduling, so I decided to take Tuesday off of work and try again the next day.  Chris was good enough to join me.  The forecast called for three foot seas from the south and the sky was overcast.  We left the harbor at about the same time and sped up the river on flat calm water, enjoying the mist cloaking the mountaintops.  As we crossed the mouth of the slough near the cabin we saw a lovely female mash hawk gliding over the meadows.  From there we traveled the last few hundred yards upriver, anchoring the boat in front of the cabin and noticing that the water was shallower there than usual.  After we opened the cabin and got settled, I called my parents on the satellite phone to let them know we'd made it, then walked down to their river boat to make sure the bilge pump was working on the river boat.  Back at the cabin I made the bed upstairs and brought a selection of board games downstairs for entertainment.  We decided on Life, a game I loved playing as a kid.  I particularly liked the mountains, the bridge, and filling my car with little peg children.  Neither of us could remember the rules, so we played a simplified version, realizing as we went how much we were missing as we passed or landed on one cryptic message after another.  It didn't take long to end the game and right away we discovered the directions on the underside of the box lid.  We studied them over and immediately played again, which was significantly more fun, if equally silly.  We were both millionaires by the end, and Chris won by a measly $38k.

We ate wraps for dinner, then I headed upriver in search of nagoonberries.  I picked over the hilly area on the far side of the first meadow under the watchful eyes of the two resident eagles in their favorite perching tree.  From there I tromped through the path upriver into the larger meadows, finding a plethora of berries.  I picked quite a few in patches as the trail opened out into meadows, then I moved over to the more widely spaced berries on the edge of the river.  There it began to dawn on me that those berries tend to ripen earlier.  Sure enough, I tasted a few and discovered that they were generally overripe.  By then it was took dark to distinguish ripe from overripe berries anyway (or berries from the ground, for that matter) and I made my way back to the lodge with about six cups.  Chris and I started to watch a movie on my laptop, but I fell asleep about half way through.

Nigel Boat Dog

Playing Life

Taku Glacier at sunset

The next morning we slept in and I had a leisurely morning reading and relaxing.  We had quesadillas for lunch, then headed out for an adventure at 1:00, stopping in the shop for my mother's small engine and the canoe stashed under a tree nearby.  Both of these we lugged arduously to the river, then slid the canoe down the bank, attached the motor and took off, puttering downriver a ways before turning north, trying to stick to a deep channel.  Not long into the ride the engine quit and I filled up the little tank with the 1.25 gallon jerry jug I keep on the Ronquil for the kicker.  The passage to Hole-in-the-Wall Glacier across the river took about 45 minutes and was pleasant and calm under a cloudy sky.  Our destination was just beyond--Sockeye Creek.  The trip to Johnson Creek a month before hadn't gone as well as I'd hoped, but I was confident that Sockeye Creek would be a better experience.  We didn't visit this creek as often growing up, but I remember exploring it a number of times and fishing there with some success.  It felt more isolated and wild than Johnson Creek and I hoped that it wouldn't have as much fishing pressure. 

First, though, we had to find it!  The river becomes braided at the edge and I wasn't sure how easy it would be to find the right route between the wooded islands.  That part turned out to be easy enough.  We hugged the innermost shore, passing through a channel that ended in a T--to the right appeared to be a passage to the river, to the left, slightly clearer water.  We went left, then immediately hooked right again into a bluish opaque channel.  I expected that we were still seeing creek water mixed with river water and fully expected it to turn clear in the near future once we escaped the influence of the river.  I couldn't imagine how fish could see hooks in such opaque water and what I envisioned was a clear, brownish stream.  I was only to be disappointed in that respect.  We puttered upriver against the stiff current, passing banks of scrub willow, alder, and cottonwood, every turn promising something better.  Unfortunately, every turn also brought gravel bars too shallow for the engine.  We avoided these as best we could, paddling against the wicked current or occasionally getting out and pulling, but it was slow going, and the water never cleared, nor did we find the bend in the creek my dad told us to look for.  At one point we got out and tromped around a little, breaking out from the cottonwoods and willows at the edge of riverbank into a border of skunk cabbage and beyond that the wet meadows.  I climbed a tree to see what lay ahead, but couldn't get much of a view.  Disappointed, we cast a few times into the creek and promptly lost two lures.  We decided to continue upriver a little ways, eventually pulling up onto a little sandbar on the west side of the creek to try fishing.  Ahead there were a few spruce trees lining the bank and it was all somewhat familiar, which I thought was a good side.  Chris and I spread out and started to fish--he from the sandbar and myself from a root wad upcreek.  It occurred to me that people fish in such opaque water all the time, so maybe it wasn't unrealistic.  It also occurred to me that the source of Sockeye Creek is the ice field, so it must be silty its entire length.

Once we finally found a comfy, beautiful place to fish I relaxed a bit.  Casting on the creek is fun, fighting the current and going aground is not.  Upriver we saw another female marsh hawk and a duck zoomed up the creek.  On the bank were a plethora of tracks of several species of mammals and nearby were the furry remains of a rodent kill.  After a while, I stopped fishing and came back to visit Chris.  He thought he'd seen a fish for a moment following his lure in but wasn't sure.  Several casts later, I saw a small trout follow the lure right into the shallows, its sides barred with brown.  It was gone before I could speak, but inspired us to continue fishing there for a bit.  But, we had no more luck and eventually drifted back downriver to try another spot.  We first stopped at an island at the edge of the creek separated from the shore by a narrow channel of water.  Beyond that was a beaver pond that drained into the creek and looked like a potential resting ground for fish.  Chris had trouble accessing it without hip waders, though, and I quickly lost enthusiasm.  We continued downriver and pulled up on a shallow gravel bar on the side of the creek to fish in a few eddies, again with no luck.  It was awfully beautiful, though, the bank lined with cottonwoods, the air crisp and clear, ducks streaking up the creek.  From there we headed downriver to make one last stop--a large island in the middle of the creek with two beaver sloughs emptying into it on the west side, eddies, and calm, deep looking pools.  There were goose droppings all over the bar and as we pulled up we watched a beaver swimming across the creek downriver before slapping the water with its tail and disappearing.  We heard other loud slaps as we fished, but didn't see the beaver again.  Chris cast into the main channel and I cast into the beaver pond side, but neither of us had any recognizable strikes.  We had hoped for trout and cohos on this trip, but saw little sign of either (but we're not very good fishermen either).  We did cut a pretty Alaskan scene, though, standing by a picturesque riverbank, no other people on the whole creek, the blue Hole-in-the-Wall Glacier looming behind flanked by purple mountains.

Chilled and hungry, we retraced our path back to the cabin, halving our travel time.  We ate a late dinner of pasta in place of the trout I had hoped to cook, played Pac Man the Board Game, and went to bed relatively early.

Fishing on Sockeye Creek

Sockeye Creek

Elephant Mountain from Sockeye Creek

The next morning I trekked back upriver in search of more nagoonberries.  I found them mostly overripe, so only picked three cups before I just started tromping around and exploring.  I visited some of my favorite trees and stumbled into what may be a moose hiding spot.  A birch tree and a few spruce trees grew together, forming a wide canopy about ten feet high.  Around the edge of the branches grew a circle of willows, creating a sheltered hollow out of sight of the rest of the meadow.  There were lots of moose tracks and moose droppings inside and I like to think of moose taking refuge there during hunting season.  Outside the hollow I saw another female marsh hawk soaring over the meadows.  The fall flowers were gorgeous--bluish-purple asters, clumps of brilliant goldenrod, and red fireweed leaves.  The air smelled amazing.

When I returned to the cabin, Chris had a cozy fire going.  We had lunch and then cleaned the cabin and packed up, relaxing and playing gin for a couple of hours before we headed out on the tide.  At the slough we saw three female marsh hawks fly in and out of a clump of alders at the edge of the fireweed meadow.  Farther south, between the Taku Glacier and Jaw Point, we nearly ran over a sluggish gull and clearly saw its pitch black feet as it veered off overhead, confirming my suspicions that I'd been seeing black-legged kittiwakes all summer.  The rest of the ride was calm and uneventful.  One whale blew between Bishop and Salisbury.

Meadow upriver from the cabin

Goldenrod and fireweed

Female marsh hawk

Hole-in-the-Wall Glacier from Sockeye Creek