June 11, 2026, Seward Folly Commentary by Bob Shafer

After suffering through winters that seem to drag on forever, then working all summer just to stockpile enough heat and food for the next one — like our distant relatives, the squirrels — it’s finally time for a break. Summer’s here, and that means it’s time to get outside and fish for Alaska’s favorite catch.

I recently watched a video of a visitor snagging sockeye across the bay at what used to be called McDonald’s, and it looks like the fish are coming in. Bright, first-run sockeye are returning to Resurrection Bay. Here’s a little food for thought: if you want some space to fish, maybe think twice before posting your spot on social media. Some folks get so excited about their good luck that they just can’t help themselves.

On June 11, the Russian and north Kenai (north of Skilak Lake) open up for sport fishing. The first run is different every year — sometimes hot, sometimes cold. But the fish that do show up are some of the hardest fighters you’ll find in any river, pound for pound. Expect crowds at the ferry and a lot of hooks flying as people try to toss a weighted line and single hook, dressed with bright bucktail, into the river — hoping it’ll pass through a salmon’s mouth. More fish are snagged and released than not. Sockeye don’t actually eat other fish or anything that even vaguely looks like a so-called “Russian River fly” — in fact, they try to move away from it. Evolution just decided they’d swim upstream in big enough numbers that plenty get caught anyway, which is why the opener is such a big deal every year.

In the ocean, sockeye eat krill — tiny, tasty shrimp that are on the menu for a lot of sea creatures, whales included. If you want to match the hatch, think small: try a size 6 hook (something strong and curved, like a Tiemco 2457), and tie your fly sparse. Do a little research on krill colors at different growth stages. Use a fly rod with a 10-foot leader tapered to 10-lb test (Maxima is tough to beat) and put minimal weight about three feet above the fly. Try a two-step leader: top 10 feet ending in a loop, bottom 24 to 36 inches looped to that, fly on the end. Add two or three size 5 split shots above the loop-to-loop connection and swing the fly so you can feel the shot tick along the bottom. Once you hook one of these wild fish, it’s you who’ll be hooked. I remember one opener, Judith and I were surrounded by people trying (and failing) to snag fish. We stepped into the river and limited out — though we lost a fly line and destroyed an old reel in the process.

When you’re out on Resurrection Bay or the Kenai, give people space and watch out for flying hooks. Last year, I had to tell a young man he needed to head to the Soldotna emergency room to get a feathered lure removed from his neck—it was dangerously close to an artery. He and his son had looked forward to that day, but it was over because someone didn’t care about their cast. If someone isn’t paying attention, just move away. The beauty of the technique above is that it works anywhere, and you can always hike a bit for some solitude.

Fish madness gets to everyone, though I’ve mellowed with age. Slow down, look around, and enjoy the scenery — and maybe a few of the antics from your fellow anglers. Drive carefully on Nash Road and on the highway to Cooper Landing or Homer, and save the booze and other substances for the end of the day. Remember: wilderness is just off the highway. Clean your catch, ice it, and enjoy a well-earned treat.