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Kamchatka: A Time Travel to a Salmonid Paradise
The Kamchatka- landscape is still wild and untouched. On the remote Russian peninsula fishermen can experience an ancient world where courage and a pioneering spirit are needed to explore the pristine rivers with their vast abundance of fish.
By LUKAS BAMMATER
“Look at this!” says our guide Roger and points to the river beneath us. Ten pairs of eyes stare magnetised out of the small windows of the MI-8 helicopter. “Are those fish?” asks my seatmate in disbelieve. I have to rub my eyes before I understand what I am seeing. Hundreds of fish are standing there, lined up like yellow cabs during New York’s rush hour. As we fly lower, discoloured bodies of countless sockeye salmon are clearly visible. Loud cheers almost drown the deafening hum of the rotors. After more than two days, the long and expectant journey has come to an end.
Welcome to fishermen’s paradise
The shrubs and small deciduous trees welcome us with their intense autumn colours. Snow-capped peaks enthrone in the distance between thin cloud bands. That’s where the crystal clear water of Ozernaya has its source.
It’s hard to find the words to describe my feelings when I get a first proper look at the river with all its promises. Even if we are not after the spawning sockeye salmon, they increase my fishing fever. It takes some time till I manage to take my eyes off the salmon. But then I discover the Dolly Varden char, waiting for aborted salmon eggs.
I quickly choose my fly of choice. The char shouldn’t be able to resist a Glow Bug – and it proves to be true! Five casts and my rod bends under the weight of a powerful Dolly. The fish quickly swims up and down the pool, vigorously shaking its head. After a few minutes I am able to drag it into shallow water and pull it up on the gravel bank.
I am overwhelmed by the beauty of this fish. I have never seen a wild fish with such intense colours and remarkable contours before. The fish’s belly is coloured in a deep orange-red and as are the bright points of the turquoise flanks. Its head is strongly built and blotted dark black below and yellow-green above, with a teeth-menacing mouth and a forbidding hooked jaw. On the top, the snow-white edged fins.
I happily glance at this natural beauty for a few moments before slowly releasing it into the deeper water.
A bite every cast!
Back at the camp, everybody is enthusiastic about the stunning nature and the impressive numbers of fish. At dinner every fisherman shares what he has experienced during the day. Apart from the char, they caught a few rainbows and grayling too. One guy tells a story about his encounter with a young bear and how he ended up in the river feet-up because he was so frightened!
As the evening progresses more alcohol is consumed and the stories get wilder and more elaborate. But soon the long journey takes its toll and everyone crawls into his or her tent, tired.
Although excruciatingly loud snoring rings out of the neighbour’s tent, I can still hear the wonderful morning sounds of chirping birds in the tree. The night was cold and clear, our waders are stiffly frozen. I have to dip them in the river before I get the chance to slip my legs in.
After breakfast, the guides prepare the boats for the first day drifting on the river. Evenly spread between four boats, we drive off. Soon the river widens and the water slows down. During the whole trip we only pass small rapids. Most of the time we comfortably drift over long slides, deep pools and shallow glides. As soon as we reach a nice looking spot, we ask our Russian guide Dima to drive us to the shore. We often stop at sections where we can see dense swarms of char and grayling.
Usually it’s just a matter of seconds before one of us gets the first bite. We are often all standing in the water with deeply bent rods at the same time. Almost every cast catches a fish.
Stream course unchanged for 10’000 years
Slowly we settle into a certain routine. In the morning we pack our sleeping bags and camping mattresses then unpack it again in the evening. In between are ten hours of fishing. There is almost nothing we need to take care of. Our camp cook Oxana conjures deliciously cooked meals three times a day. Then, when we finally return to camp, all the tents are already setup. We have no problem getting used to this luxury out here in the wilderness.
For us fishing a river that looks like how our streams back home were several hundred years ago, also means luxury to us.
I am fascinated by the versatility of the river: broad gravel banks, sweeping curves with deep eroded banks and high towers of deadwood. It is fascinating how much space the Ozernaya uses to build countless branches, islands and back eddies. On the third day the pools are getting deeper. Chum salmon join the omnipresent Dolly Varden and grayling. No giants, just up to 90 centimetres, but with their typical hardiness and power. For those in our group who have never fought such a hard fighter before, it is an unforgettable experience.
Though for my part I can’t wait until we reach the famous Mikischa territory. It is considered as the original genetic form of the rainbow trout. No fish were ever introduced here by humans, their genetic identity has remained unchanged for millennia.
Not only are the Mikischas famous for their pure genes, but also for their feeding preferences. Their staple diet are mice that jump into the river to swim to the other side – but more often than not, they never get that far...
Spectacular surface eruptions
The eroded, overgrown grass banks are the favourite hiding places of the Mikischas. More and more of these structures show up from day four and on. But for now my mouse pattern slides over the surface without any reaction. Then it finally happens.
The back eddy is only about two meters wide. Long blades of grass are hanging just above the water surface. My mouse pattern lands right in the grass bank. After a short, soft pull, it slaps on the water. Milliseconds later a bow wave arises behind it. The trout carries out his attack with no haste as it leisurely breaks the surface and sips in the mouse with the bushy tail. Its temper is instantly aroused as it feels the hook. A long run into the strong current follows - and several wild jumps. All in all I need three attempts to bring the creature back into the shallow back eddy.
What a fish. It is about 55 centimetres long and its body is covered with small black spots. On the yellow edges of the pectoral fins they are lined up accurately in a line. An intense pink glint runs from snout to tail. The head includes violet, emerald blue and amber nuances. The vivid colours of the Mikischas are just as strikingly beautiful as the Dolly Varden’s.
The big finale
From now on we also catch rainbows out of the drifting boat. Dima skilfully steers the boat down river, always in casting distance to the strike zone. We get a lot of attacks on our mouse patterns but get only a few hooks-ups. As long as the fish don’t feel the hook, they will attacks a second, third or even fourth time. From the drifting boat this is almost impossible. There is only time for one or two casts to the same spot. But it doesn’t matter. The further downstream we drift, the higher the density of rainbow trout.
During the last two days there are fish every few metres. Bites and false attacks now follow in rapid succession. At times, I feel like the striker of a highly entertaining football match. One great opportunity to score after another. The ball hits the bar or the goalpost once a minute, but the result in the end is still a double-figure. In our boat there is enough space for two men fishing at the same time.
The other two guys comment the happenings with the emotionality of hot-blooded football fans.
The big finale follows on the last day. A few hundred meters above the camp, I jump off the boat and fish the last 200 meters from the shore. Suddenly I hear a loud splash. Further down another guest stands on a gravel bar with his rod bended deep. Twenty metres offshore something that is many times bigger than the rainbows we caught so far rolls on the surface. The closer I get, the better I see a red flank shining on the surface. Obviously it belongs to a handsome silver salmon. So far, we caught quite a few fish on streamers but this one here, to our great surprise, has taken the mouse imitation.
Not until it is lays in the net do we realize the true size of this greatly discoloured male: nearly 90 centimetres long and in perfect condition. My friend is glowing with happiness as he presents his catch for the last picture of this extraordinary fishing trip in this – the salmonid’s paradise.
