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Chancellor Bismarck and Dogs
Might Appreciate Flyfishing in Anchorage
By Naomi K. Shapiro
 The Fly Guy is pulling me around the water on a leash,
and I’m thinking, ‘What am I, a little dog?’
But the truth is I’m greatly enjoying the attention and
the experience -- my first shot at flyfishing from one of those floaty
chairs, on a small lake in Anchorage, on a beautiful summer day.
I try to fish wherever I go, so when I found myself
with four days in Anchorage last June, I hooked up with Ron Smith of ‘The
Fly Guy’s Urban Angler,’ a 22-year family business specializing in guiding
on lakes and streams within an hour’s drive of the city.
I don’t swim well, so I’m cautious about water
activities unless I’m viewing the lake from the inside of a boat, or the
water is in a refreshing cup of tea. The thought of being on the water in a
floaty chair bothers me a bit, but, like those people who hold up handmade
cardboard signs at highway entrances, ‘I will do anything for fishing!’
I call Ron and tell him my concerns. He assures me
I'll be fine, and picks me up at the Anchorage Marriott right on schedule.
‘Not to worry,’ he smiles, as we drive a few miles from city-center.
‘Right,’ I say weakly, as we arrive at an exquisite, small lake called
Little Kincaid.
This part of Anchorage is wilderness itself. Few, if
any, people around, and absolutely no houses in sight. Wonderful start.
Anchorage is unlike any other major city. Talk about
getting away from it all? In Anchorage, it’s constantly around you! You
can just hop in a pickup, drive a couple of miles, or walk a short way from
city-center, and ‘snap, crackle, and pop,’ you’re in nature’s bosom.
In fact, staying right in Anchorage and enjoying all
her offerings could be one of the world’s best-kept secrets. People who
just pass through Anchorage on the way to somewhere else are really missing
the boat.
Cradled by the Chugach Mountains on one side and
embraced by The Cook Inlet on the other, Anchorage is home to nearly 261,000
people (42% of Alaska’s population). She boasts everything you could
possibly want in a city: Cosmopolitan. Socially conscious. Temperate.
Numerous museums, cultural attractions, events, and activities. Tons of
parks, paths, trails, and walkways, and the great outdoors at its door. In
short, Anchorage is easily accessible, and offers plenty for anyone to do
for weeks and weeks without ever leaving town.
Anchorage’s Ted Stevens Airport -- served by 21
international airlines, with more than 200 flights every day -- is gateway
to hundreds of exotic and far-flung reaches of Alaska -- and beyond.
Of course, many people do flightsee or fish-trip out of
Anchorage to places with glaciers, grizzlies and grayling. On the other
hand, you can fish practically right out the door of some Anchorage
accommodations, and they furnish fishing poles to boot!
Meanwhile, back at Little Kincaid Lake, Martin from
California, and Stephen from New Mexico join us. They’ve never flyfished
either. Ron’s brother-in-law, Bob, who recently moved to Anchorage from Los
Angeles, is along to help.
When we assemble by the lake, Ron hints that a ‘pit
stop’ would be a good idea. The guys trek to the woods for some
male-bonding-territory-marking, while I, the sole woman, play 'camel' until
I can figure out what I want to do.
 When the guys return, we’re given neoprene waders.
That’s when I recall Chancellor Bismarck’s well-known
observation: Two things you don't ever want to see made are sausage or
war.
‘If Bismarck were here,’ I muse, ‘seeing me stuffed
into neoprene waders will surely rank #3 on his list!’
I stall putting on the gear, because the day is
beginning to get quite warm, and I know I’ll be claustrophobic if I’m
encased in neoprene. I’m also worried that I’ll have to go to the bathroom
the minute I don them, not to mention that I’m afraid I’ll sink straight to
the bottom if I slip into the water.
It turns out that before we go out, we’re going to
practice from shore, so I’m glad I waited.
We step to the water’s edge, which has a nice gravel
shoreline. Ron gives us a quick lesson in fly casting, and we try to get
the hang of it.
Uhhh... it ‘ain’t’ easy. First I try the ‘overhead
snap’ (my term) straight line cast. My line wiggles and drops limply into
the water at my feet. Then I try to ‘walk the dog,’ where you ‘skip’ the
line across the water in little ‘hops.’
 Hmmm... a champion I’m not, but, it’s a new
‘experience,’ the guys are very congenial and supportive, and they’re having
the same problems I am.
Ron becomes my ‘personal trainer’ and takes me under
his wing. Literally. He puts his big arms around me to help me throw out
the line. He holds my arm to help me find the right moment to flick the
line forward. He stands and coaches us as we try again and again to get our
lines to arch out onto the water.
Finally, it’s ‘show time!’ Or ‘trout time,’ as the
case may be.
I can stall no longer. Ron and Bob help me wiggle into
the chest-high waders. Then come a pair of special shoes; next, a
self-inflating life vest; and after that, a pair of flippers. What? Now
I’m Jacques Cousteau?
 In the water, my floating throne awaits.
Ron tells us to back into the water to avoid tripping
over the front of the flippers. OK, so now I’m ‘The Creature From the Black
Lagoon’ -- in reverse!
Ron and Bob help me climb aboard my floating seat and
assure me that I’ll be fine. It’s just like sitting in an easy chair in
your living room, and with little pockets on the arms to put important
things like keys, money and cameras. Our poles rest across the arms, with
our legs a danglin’ down, flippers and all.
And away we go.
I’m flailing around like a wounded duck, but here’s the
greatest: Ron hooks a little ‘leash’ to my floating chair so he can pull me
around under control and safety. Arf, arf! I feel like I’m being ‘walked’
for my daily outing.
After a few seconds on the water I forget all my
worries. It’s absolutely beautiful here. The scenery. The sun and blue
sky. The quiet. The clean water. The light breeze. The eagles. The
loons. The laughs and comments. I’m loving it.
And we fish. And we see trout ripples. And we use
scud flies that mimic freshwater shrimp. And we fish. And we laugh. And
we take pictures. And we ‘flipper’ to other areas of the lake. And we
talk. And we try Thunder Creek flies that mimic minnows. And we fish.
We see lots of trout in the water, but only Martin
manages to hook a trout.
But many fishing days are like that. Fish-catching is
truly secondary to the whole experience. Besides, it’s catch-and-release,
so we can just say, we released, before the fish got to our lines!
As we begin to kick-paddle back to the landing, a moose
ambles from the edge of the woods to the shoreline. And, although more than
2,000 moose are said to live in the Anchorage Bowl, we felt very lucky to be
part of this picture.
This outing was also special because Ron, ‘The Fly
Guy,’ is like almost every Alaskan I met: Independent, self-assured,
approachable, pleasant, patient, great to be with, and very competent.
And, now that I’ve got the hang of it, I can’t wait to
go flyfishing again, soon -- from a little floaty chair.
‘So, Chancellor,’ I think to myself, ‘What’ll it be?
Sausage, war, or waders?’
If You Go:
You can flyfish out of
Anchorage with the Fly Guy’s Urban Angler for about $95 for a half day and
$175 for a full day, including transportation from your hotel, licenses,
equipment and guide. Contact Ron Smith at ‘The Fly Guy’s Urban Angler,’
1210 Nelchina Street, Anchorage, Alaska 99501; call (907) 274-1923;
e-mail: Ron@AlaskanFlyGuy.com
website: www.AlaskanFlyGuy.com
For General information about Anchorage:
Anchorage Convention and Visitors Bureau
524 W. Fourth Avenue
Anchorage, AK 99501-2212
800-478-1255
e-mail: info@anchorage.net web:
www.anchorage.net
For General Information about Alaska:
Alaska Visitor Information
Dept. 112, PO Box 196710
Anchorage, AK 99519-6710
800-862-5275
website: http://apr.travelalaska.com
Naomi K. Shapiro says, ‘I never met a fish I didn’t
like.’ She’s a member of the Outdoor Writers Association of America (OWAA),
specializing in travel and the outdoors. She lives and works from a home,
on a lake, in the middle of the Chequamegon National Forest in northern
Wisconsin, and goes fishing every chance she gets.
First Image by Stephen Ausherman.
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