Every season in Alaska feels big. Big landscapes, big water, big fish, big emotions. But sometimes it’s the smaller windows — a few consecutive trips, a stretch of weeks where everything connects — that really tell the story of a year. My 2025 float season lived inside one of those windows.
From late July into August, I had the opportunity to guide three very different rivers, with three very different personalities, alongside great people and under a wide range of conditions. What tied them together was excellent water, fish already settled into their seasonal rhythms, and a team willing to explore, adapt, and lean into whatever the river gave us.
Chosen River | July 22–28
The Chosen set the tone for the season.
We launched into near-ideal water levels – the kind that opens doors for various techniques and ideas to thrive. Plenty of fish were already in the system and the river felt alive from day one — not rushed, not sparse, just balanced. These are the conditions guides dream about because they allow you to guide rather than manage problems.
Journal Entry July 23
“Camped at Dorothy’s Bar for the first time after a stellar first day float. Rainbows everywhere – got a great one on a mouse right at Prudential Rock with Hatch. River looks to be normal to low levels – it’s hard to say with these new rafts. Crew seems stoked things have been smooth – it’s also a great group. Spirits are high this is incredible already”
This trip was as much about exploration for me as it was about fishing. With the water cooperating the team pushed into new braids and side channels, reading water that hadn’t been part of our regular program. That curiosity paid off. We located productive new stretches, discovered better travel options, and — just as importantly (and my favorite) — identified new campsites that will shape future trips on this river.
Evenings were calm – it was a nice weather week. Camps felt dialed. Sure the boss was washing dishes and pounding stakes but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Clients fished hard during the day and relaxed fully at night, the kind of rhythm that only happens when logistics fade into the background. The Chosen reminded us how rewarding it is to slow down when conditions allow and really see a river. Sharing this trip with a friend from High School was very rewarding and the group that came with was phenomenal. A float I will never forget.
Kisaralik River | August 3–12
After a short reset, we were back on the water — this time on the Kisaralik.
Floating this river for a second year in a row was a gift. Familiarity breeds confidence, and confidence breeds opportunity. With great water levels again and unusually cooperative weather, we were able to unlock new routes and further refine our approach on a river that is as wild as it is exhilarating.
With Class III+ rapids and strainers for 50 miles the Kisaralik doesn’t give much for free. It demands attention — from boat handling to camp placement to daily decision-making. But that’s what makes it special – each day felt like progress. We built on lessons from the previous year, adjusted techniques, tested alternatives, and really started dialing in a program that matches the scale and intensity of this place.
Journal Entry August 8
“Found a campsite right above the 2nd Class V. Looked to have its own beds and definitely was protected. Trout fishing has gotten much better. After we got out of the canyons and past the gate we have been finding big king beds with some of them offering unreal fishing. Really started to braid up as we got closer to Nukluk. The Labyrinth really got us – had to rope haul two boats back up river about 75 yards to avoid certain disaster. Big giant sweepers and strainers made out of ancient black spruce. This is a wild f*ckin river!”
Guiding a repeat family on this trip added another layer of meaning. Watching different generations experience the same moments — big water, remote camps, fish caught in places that feel untouched — is one of the most rewarding parts of this work. Like a lot of times it wasn’t just a float; it was a shared adventure that will stick with all of us.
Arolik River | Immediately After
There was no pause between the Kisaralik and the Arolik — just a true turn and burn.
The Arolik greeted us with a completely different challenge: extremely low water. Travel was slow, technical, and often laborious seemingly impossible for a few days. Every mile had to be earned. Progress wasn’t measured in distance but in patience and teamwork. Spirits were broken but we had to get downriver.
Once we finally reached the confluence and could actually travel the fishing got significantly real.
Journal Entry August 15
“This river has kicked my ass before but this is much different. Two nights ago as we were finally getting to bed I noticed all of the Monkshood in camp. I could make a tea for all of us to drink and it would just all be a dream. As soon as we got to main river the fishing lit up. Multiple rainbows and tons of Cohos starting to show up. Gravel for miles so we can camp wherever we want. It doesn’t even look the same on the banks. We all thought we saw Bigfoot in camp tonight but alas it was folks picking berries. Im glad I didn’t make the tea”
For several days, the rainbow fishing was simply off the charts. The kind of fishing that resets your expectations and makes the effort feel irrelevant. Long days paid off in ways that are hard to describe without sounding exaggerated — so I won’t try. The guide crew was pushed to the limit of exhaustion and saw some of the whackiest trout fishing known. If you were there, you know.
Low water forced us to adapt – slowing the pace to check out spots we couldn’t get the rafts into. We explored new water, adjusted plans on the fly, and leaned on each other. In the process, we made new friends, found new spots, and saw the river we never have noticed under different conditions.
Some trips are smooth. Some are hard. This Arolik trip was the hardest — and very unforgettable.
What Stays With Me
Looking back, what stands out most isn’t a single fish or camp or stretch of river. It’s the people and the momentum. It’s sharing my most special places on the Kanektok with a buddy from High School, telling stories and laughing until tears were in our eyes. It’s that beautiful camp in the canyon on the Kisaralik where we saw a herd of Caribou and one stag that was straight up staring us down. The hidden camp I discovered the next morning that had unreal fishing around it. The pack of wolves with pups who visited us in camp on the Arolik.
Making lifelong memories with members of our team in places like this is a privilege I don’t take lightly. These are the trips that shape how we guide, how we prepare, and how we dream about future seasons.
This small window into the 2025 float season reminded me why we do this: to explore thoughtfully. To keep learning – to share wild places with good people, and to walk away changed.
“But a boatsman’s life’s not easy,
Although I’m not trying to alibi.
There’s no turning back up the river,
It’s no use to even try.
Whatever lies before you –
You’ve got to see it through.
You can’t stop halfway
And back off and start anew,
It’s just things aren’t as easy
As they look to those outside.
It’s more than jumping in a boat
And going for a ride”
