King Salmon 9, Johnsons 0

That's the final score this summer after nine tries at landing a King salmon; we came home empty-handed each time.

This was our first summer to be able to fish as Alaska residents, which means it became affordable to buy the necessary license and king salmon permit (you actually have to but a separate "tag" for the privilege of fishing for a King). I've done a little fishing here and there in the past, but what was most surprising for me about fishing in Alaska is how much it revolves around the salmon runs. The Kings are the biggest, and according to some Alaskans, the tastiest (though the most-coveted salmon for eating are Copper River Reds). They also "run" first, coming out of the ocean and beginning their final swim inland to spawn and die.

When the Kings started coming in, we bought a rod and reel, and some tackle and bait, and spent a Monday trying our hand at Alaska fishing. We had no bites and saw no fish, but it was our first try so it didn't matter too much.

As the weeks went by, we (or sometimes just me) tried other spots, again with no success. In fact, we still hadn't even seen an actual flesh-and-blood King. As far as we could tell, it was a mythical creature of Alaskan lore, something like the Loch Ness Monster or Sasquatch.

But on another Monday, we went to Ship Creek in downtown Achorage and actually witnessed King salmon being caught. What a sight! My past fishing has mostly been for Rainbow Trout. But even a large Rainbow looks like a minnow compared to a King, which average (I would guess) 3 - 4 feet long and 30 - 40 pounds each. It was a thrill to see these monsters coming out of the water. I wanted to catch one!

Our best chance was last Monday night. The word was Montana Creek was "hot" (news of a productive fishing spot spreads quickly among Alaskans). While friends from church graciously watched the two older girls, Robyn and I drove up to Montana Creek with Sander and Moriah, hopeful that this might be our time.

I've never had a fishing experience like that before. There were dozens and dozens of Kings swimming just feet away in the clear water. Every so often one would splash the surface, or jump out of the water entirely. And the anglers were standing side by side, concentrated next to one hole in particular where the fish were thick. Every minute or so someone shouted, "Fish on!", and the fight began. Sometimes they landed the fish, but more often the fish cut loose, or they were "foul-snagged" which meant they had to be let go (in fact, many of the fish swimming below had brightly-colored lures still attached to them).

After an hour or so of casting near the most productive spot, I got a hit. The pole arched, the fish pulled hard, and I started pulling back and reeling it in. Some of the more experienced anglers coached me along the way: "Keep your pole up!", "Pull up and then reel down!", "Point the pole toward the beach!", and so on. Two helpful guys even fixed my reel with the fish still on, since the arm that reels in the line had come loose (I made a mental note then: "Next time, do NOT buy the cheapest rod and reel Wal-Mart sells.").

But just as the fish was about to be netted (thanks to another friendly fisherman), it cut loose and was gone. He told me that it was snagged, so I would have had to let it go anyway. But the fight was still a lot of fun.

Robyn and I had a couple of more fish bite after that, but none that stayed on more than a few seconds. Midnight struck, and the fishing was officially over. So, we came back home sans salmon one more time. But at least now we have some fish stories to tell. And that means we've become a little more Alaskan over the summer!