Sitka is a place where all your dreams of fishing in Alaska can come true. Every morning Kain's Fishing Adventures' sportfisher leaves the sheltered docks deep in Sitka Sound and the only sound, if any, is the scream of a bald eagle. The ancient town of Sitka is shrouded in dawn shadows as the boat threads through islets to more open water. The morning sun shoots broad swords of light through the banners of clouds bugging the mountaintops of Baranof Island and backlights the mixed fleet of salmon trawlers and sport boats headed out to the fishing grounds of the open ocean. Seagulls pile one on another near a kelp bed by a finger reef of volcanic rock, but skipper Greg Kain dismisses the frenzy with a quick look through the binoculars. "They're on rockfish."

Instead Kain sets up a drift over an offshore hump that the video sonar reveals in full color. Then he shows us the underhand cast necessary to keep the long leader of the mooching rig from tangling with the sinker.
"Go ahead and drop it all the way to the bottom," Kain says. "First thing in the morning there's a chance of catching some kings."

And that's just how Bobby Loomis of G. Loomis kicks off the morning - he hooks up with a bright, deep shouldered chinook that puts a good bend in the G. Loomis STR 1265, which is a 10'6" mooching rod.
But it's Bob Loomis, Sr. who gives us a lesson on how to put the mooching rod to good use. He starts hooking silver salmon with uncommon rapidity, and the chunky cohos rocket up to the surface as soon as they feel the bite of the long rod.

"Way to go, Gary," says Ben Secrest of AFTCO, who has needled Loomis about his brother, the namesake of G. Loomis, in this manner ever since the airport. We're all getting bit, including Secrest, who somehow survives a look that should have killed him, and, since the rods were equipped with Shimano line counter levelwind reels, everyone pays close attention to Kain as he keeps a close eye on the sonar.
"There are some fish at 60 feet and 40 feet," he says, and that sets everyone's minds to quick meter-to-feet conversions.

Yet it is the senior Loomis who is on fire and he quickly approaches the six-fish limit for silvers. So I study his technique. The fairly heavy sinker puts a bend in the limber rod, and Bob uses the bend to advantage - sort of a pre-hookset bend - by keeping the tip in the water. When the silver hits, he puts the reel in gear and lets the fish take the rod tip deep in the water before he lifts up and the salmon is on the hook.

Bobby Loomis and Ben Secrest do fairly well with soaking their bait in the zones Kain names, but I combine the senior Loomis' hookset method with my own approach, which calls for a fairly rapid retrieve to the fish holding depth, but then only a slowdown instead of a complete stop. The silvers want it on the move. But, hey, the bite is so wide open that we all have limits in the fish box in not time at all.
It's time to move onto larger, more serious prey - the giant halibut of Sitka. We make a long run around the outside of Kruzof Island, and as Kain sets the anchor on the spot, he tells us this is a good spot for number of flatfish in the 100 to 200-pound range. That brings the 16-pound test IGFA men's line class record for Pacific halibut into the realm of possibility - the existing record is only 165 pounds.

So one of the two bait rigs Kain deploys in the forward area of the cockpit near the wheelhouse is a 16-pound IGFA setup, while the other is a more standard 50-pound Spectra rig. Both are laden with a disgusting ball of salmon guts. "Not only will we have a chance of catching a halibut on these rigs," say Kain, "but they also act as chum since they milk out a scent."

Bobby Loomis and Ben Secrest, veterans of the Sitka halibut fishery, take a more active approach. Preferring to fish with artificial baits (well mostly artificial), they break out their secret lure rig. The rig is a combination of two of Kalin's plastic lures - a large white twin tail Scampi on a heavy (12 to 16 ounces) leadhead is topped off with an open eye Siwash hook pinched down on the bend of the hook on the leadhead. Onto this stinger hook is threaded a pink/silver flake 5-inch Kalin grub.
Secrest and Loomis disagree on the final touch - a piece of salmon belly, also cut to form a split tail in position only. Ben likes to put it on the trailing hook, while Bobby opts for the bigger leadhead hook. Then, using G. Loomis SWR 90-25 rods and Shimano TLD 25 reels packed with Spectra, the pair starts working the combos around the high spot the tide is just starting to settle the boat on perfectly. Secrest sets the hook, but he's only connected with a (formerly) permanent dweller of the rock, a big, fat, brillant orange yelloweye rockfish.

The next time he rears back, the fish burns some drag fiber and Secrest has to work before he gets a view of a white slab belly as the flattie makes on last dive for freedom. But the fish is soon back up and Kain and deckhand Bryce Kilponen get their hooks in the fish and a 100-pound halibut is put on board. Then it's Bobby Loomis' turn, but his fish turns out to be a lingcod.

One of the bait rigs gets hit and the senior Loomis gets a chance, and we have another flattie on the boat. Meanwhile I'm scrambling to match the setup used by Ben and Bob, because Secrest is hooked up again. I also try the other side of the boat. Bob Loomis steps into the corner I just vacated and hooks a hawg halibut. This fish torques him back and forth along the rail and up and over the outboard and back again. The G. Loomis rod is bent like it has a world record yellowfin on the other end.

Then the behemoth looms under the boat and the refraction makes the halibut look twice its 160 pounds, and the reason it has fought so hard becomes clear - the lure is in the side of the fish's face. The halibut either sniffed a little too close, or rejected the offering a little too late. Either way, Loomis was quick enough to make the halibut pay. This fish Kain dispatches with the help of not only his gaffs, but a revolver. While this is going on, Secrest hooks and lands another halibut, then I finally get on the board with a flattie right at 100 pounds. About that time the world record setup gets bit and Kain himself is the one who picks it up and fights the halibut after both Loomis and Secrest decline.

Now it's later in the afternoon and there's lots of fish cleaning ahead, so Kain says it's time to go. As I reel up the plastic/bait combo, something slams it halfway to the boat and one last halibut goes in the fish box. Back at the docks we hang out and help with the fish processing. The passengers on the other boat that Kain's Fishing Adventures operates head back to the lodge for a jacuzzi and cocktail on the deck of the lodge overlooking the bay. It's not long before we're also enjoying the view, while a local gal uses the vacuum sealer downstairs to package the fillets before they're sent to be flash frozen.

The next morning the sky clears and I put my newly perfected mooching techinque to good use, landing a quick limit of silvers and a couple pinks. The wind comes up before everyone is limited and Kain takes us across the sound to a secluded spot that is holding a school of silvers that want to eat lures. I take a backseat to the expertise of Bobby Loomis with the metal Crippled Herring and Bryce Kiltonen with the plastic B-2 Squid, as they outstrip everyone during the catch and release action. Secrest does use one of his imported Fish Trap swim bait plastics to hook a couple silvers. What's most impressive with the swim baits is how they attract bands of following salmon right to the boat's stern.

Now the wind really hoots, but we huddle in the cabin as the sportfisher pounds through the swell. It's still nasty when we get to the spot, so much so that Kain decides to stay at the wheel and make controlled drifts over the reef. Bob, Sr. chooses to keep him company since the target now is lingcod and that means deep jigging.

We're treated to an awesome sight as Kain makes a turn over the reef to set up the drift. "Whoa, look at that, it's all silver salmon," Secrest cries out and scambles to grab his swim bait rod. It's a huge school of silver salmon up near the surface - what we would call a breezer in offshore fishing for yellowtail or tuna - and we're so close you can see perfectly individual fish out of the hundreds swimming south. "That's why the fishery here is Sitka is so amazing", says Kain. "The fish use this coastline as a migratory landmark. Every salmon headed for most of southeast Alaska, British Columbia, Washington and ever Oregon and California from out of the Bering Sea comes by here."

Lingcod, of course, are a more sedentary species, although their young travel far in larval form. For this reason, one of the best reefs off Sitka has been voluntarily placed off limits by the sportfishing fleet. But the reef we're on is still a good one. Secrest is the first to hook up, but the fish unbuttons after some mean, Spectra-striping runs. Bobby Loomis seems to finds every lure-eating hole in the bottom. I find the willing maw of a 48-pound lincod with a face only a mother could love. Talk about prehistoric.

On the way home, the Sitka Sound is alive with humpback whales. It's as if the blowholes of the literally hundreds of the huge marine mammals signal an impending eruption of Mount Edgecombe, which looms in the background.
Kings and silver fill the final day, but an engine problem makes it impossible to hit the halibut spot Kain save for the finale. That evening we take the entire crew of the lodge out to dinner in downtown Sitka and the next morning I'm on a plane home. Unfortunately, I don't have to pinch myself to know I'm not in Alaska.

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