A Dad-Son Alaska Adventure To Celebrate Father’s Day
Happy Father’s Day. Our longtime correspondent Scott Haugen wrote this piece in our sister publication, Alaska Sporting Journal (you can read part one here):
Editor’s note: Last month, Scott Haugen shared trips down memory lane while in Klawock and fun fishing times with his father and a longtime friend. Here’s the rest of the story, one that brings to life what makes Alaska so truly special, and in more ways than one.
BY SCOTT HAUGEN
On day four of our time on Prince of Wales Island with longtime friend Duane Leavitt, my dad and I were ready for a break from fishing in the ocean. We’d caught plenty of fish and were getting sea legs – that wobbly feeling you struggle to shake at night.
We hopped into Leavitt’s truck and headed out from Klawock. It was an exploratory trip for Dad. For me, it was yet another journey down memory lane. I laid eyes on steelhead streams I’d not seen for decades. I overlooked land where fond memories of bear hunting had taken place. Each sight made me smile. Dad reveled in hearing my stories and reliving moments as if they’d just happened.
We stopped on a bridge and I detailed how a bobber and jig had worked so well for steelhead when I fished there back in spring 2008. Dad wanted all the details.
Another pause found us gazing across a little stream, both banks covered in tall and flowing green grass. I shared with Dad how a little white Rooster Tail accounted for cutthroat after cutthroat there, and how a steelhead even attacked the spinner. That was a fun morning of catch-and-release fishing.
We also stopped in a spot overlooking a bay and some islands.
“Right over there is where I called in a bear for a friend who shot it,” I told him. Dad wanted to know what sounds I used and what it was like when the bear came in. I told him. A proud look came over his face. It was fun sharing such memories.
We hit the road again, and Dad was now focused on looking for black bears. He also scoured the hills for Sitka blacktail deer and other wildlife on our drive across the island to Thorne Bay. I had ulterior motives wanting to see Thorne Bay.
IN 2019, MY WIFE Tiffany and I took jobs as schoolteachers in Hyder, Alaska, where our campus was literally a one-room schoolhouse. We shared a classroom with a dividing door. She taught kindergarten to eighth grade, and me ninth through 12. We had 11 students in the whole school, and one was our son, Kazden, the only senior in the school.
Unfortunately, upon Kazden’s graduation in spring 2020, and with a family with three kids moving away, we had to close down Hyder School. It was a very sad time for Tiffany and I. We loved the place and the people.
Having grown up hearing our stories of teaching on the North Slope through most of the 1990s, Kazden wanted a change for his senior year of high school. “I want to experience what you guys did in Alaska,” he said one night at dinner in our Oregon home. He left behind many friends and a class of nearly 400 students at Thurston High School. Today, after having earned his teaching degree from University of Alaska Anchorage and Oregon State University, Kazden is a third-grade teacher in Oregon. He’s the fifth generation of teachers in our family, and he has the experience in Hyder – be it only a year – to largely thank for that.
Hyder School’s central office was located in Thorne Bay. Hyder was 100 miles from some schools in the district and most schools were on the island; we were on the mainland. Some students took classes via satellite with other villages in the district. It was a fun, valuable way for the kids to interact with peers. But I never got to meet any of those kids in person; only through virtual classrooms. That’s common in rural Alaska.
ON THE TOUR OF Prince of Wales Island with Dad, I wanted to see some of these villages, peek through the windows into the schools and get a feel for what life was like. Places like Naukati, Coffman Cove, Whale Pass and Kasaan brought back many fond memories. Dad, also being a teacher, enjoyed it as much as I did.
We saw plenty of black bears along the way, including a sow and two cubs fishing in a shallow stream. They put on a show for a long time. There was no shortage of blacktail deer also. That’s what Dad and I love hunting back home in Oregon, though for the Columbian subspecies. We even saw people skinning deer that hung outside their homes, as the season was well underway in August.
We fished some small streams for Dollies and coho. We didn’t see any other anglers. It was refreshing. Dad loved the feeling of being alone in this special place.
On the road to Coffman Cove, we hiked into Hatchery Creek. The boardwalk trail made for easy walking amid the captivating lush rainforest. We sat and watched for over an hour as newly arriving coho negotiated the labyrinth of tiny, rushing waterfalls to reach their spawning grounds. Dad, who had run a state of Oregon Salmon Trout Enhancement Program project for many years while teaching high school biology, loved this part of our journey. He didn’t want to leave. He still talks about the wonders of it all, how any fish could survive, let alone perpetuate year after year, in such harsh conditions.
The drive back to Klawock was surreal as I relived so many fond times. But with just one day of fishing left, we wanted to make a few more memories on the water.
IT WASN’T UNTIL THE last morning that the salmon fishing was what our guide friend Duane Leavitt considered good. It had been slow up and down the passage for everyone Leavitt talked with. We could have gone way out in the ocean, along with others who sought kings, but the long, rough boat ride didn’t appeal to us.
So, we found bait balls strung along rocky shorelines and trolled our way around them. The bite was good. We came away with what we’d hoped for: fresh salmon to take home.
“Man, those things hit hard and fight!” Dad said as Leavitt popped a gill rake on the last salmon of the morning. If Dad had one fish to target in the world, it would be salmon: king; coho; chum; it doesn’t matter. He thrives on the hit, that initial run and then the fight, in that order.
The water was calm, so we hit two spots for bottomfish, one specifically for black bass. Three hours later we headed across the bay and back to the cabins. Plenty of fish to clean would keep us busy until supper.
Ten minutes into the ride a whale breached in front of us. Leavitt killed the engines. The incoming tide carried us near the whale. The humpback slowly moved in our direction. Dozens of times the behemoth breached all the way to its tail – an awesome sight in itself. The thunderous crashing of the massive beast reverberated across the bay. At times you could almost feel the power of the ancient creature slamming hard against the water.
For nearly 30 minutes the whale put on a show. Thanks to a telephoto lens, I came away with some stunning photos. That, along with so many mature bald eagles gracing the skies, proved a fitting end to a joyous adventure.
TODAY, NEARLY TWO YEARS later, my dad still talks about the wildlife we experienced on this trip with a lifelong friend. The places we saw and the people we met – that’s what’s etched deepest in my mind.
We had fishing to thank for bringing us here to experience one of the most memorable Alaskan adventures Dad and I have shared. ASJ
Editor’s note: For signed copies of Scott Haugen’s best-selling book, Hunting The Alaskan High Arctic, visit scotthaugen.com.
