Alaska Fly Fishing Photography
Fly Fishing in Iliamna and the Remote Rivers of Alaska
There are very few places left where getting to the river is half the adventure.
In Alaska, a normal day of fly fishing might start by climbing into a de Havilland Beaver, taking off from Iliamna, and flying over a seemingly endless landscape of tundra, lakes, braided rivers, and mountains. From the air there are almost no signs of people. No roads leading to the water. No parking lots. Just river after river disappearing into country that seems to go on forever.
Then the pilot picks one.
The plane drops down, the floats hit the water, everyone unloads their rods and packs, and the Beaver disappears again.
Now you're standing in the middle of Alaska with a fly rod.
That's a hard experience to beat.
The flights were almost as exciting as the fishing, with the landscape stretching out below.
Rod and gear in hand, a fisherman crosses the tundra on the way to the water.
Photographing Fly Fishing in Alaska
I've photographed fly fishing in a lot of beautiful places over the years, but Alaska is different. Not necessarily because every photograph is more dramatic, but because everything surrounding the fishing becomes part of the story.
The airplanes. The pilots. The guides. The weather. The bears. The long drives down dirt roads. Wet waders hanging wherever they'll dry. Whisky and bear spray rolling around on the dashboard of an old truck.
And eventually, the fish.
That's what interested me most photographically. I wasn't trying to come home with a collection of pictures of people holding trout. I wanted the photographs to show what it actually felt like to be there.
The de Havilland Beaver waits on the river, ready for the next flight.
Fishing a stretch of water in the Alaskan backcountry.
After a day on the river, a silver salmon comes out of the water.
Flying Out of Iliamna
Iliamna is the kind of place that immediately makes you aware of just how enormous Alaska is.
From the air, the scale becomes ridiculous.
Rivers twist through the tundra without a building anywhere in sight. Lakes appear below the plane and stretch toward the horizon. Mountains and volcanoes rise in the distance. Every once in a while you spot another float plane or a small structure, but mostly you see empty country.
For a photographer, the flights were almost as exciting as the fishing.
I'd spend as much time looking out the window as possible, photographing the landscape below and watching the light change across the ground. Then we'd land somewhere completely different and start all over again on foot.
The view from the cockpit on the way to another remote river.
By evening, the lake reflects the mountains across the water.
The Fish Are Pretty Good Too
Of course, nobody travels all the way to Alaska with a fly rod because they don't care about fish.
The fishing can be absurd.
Rainbow trout, Arctic grayling, Dolly Varden, silver salmon and other salmon species move through these waters depending on the river and time of year. Some of the trout are the kind of fish that permanently screw up your expectations when you return home.
But Alaska also changes the way you think about a successful day of fishing.
You might spend an hour working a stretch of river only to have a bear wander into the same area and effectively end the discussion about who gets to fish there.
The bear wins.
Every time.
Bringing the fish to the net marks the end of another stretch on the river.
A rainbow trout rests in the net after being brought in from the river.
Fishing continues into the evening under an Alaskan sky.
An Arctic grayling comes out of the river after the day's fishing.
Sharing the River With Bears
Seeing a grizzly bear from the window of an airplane is one thing.
Standing in a river with one is another.
Bears are simply part of fishing in Alaska. You're traveling through their habitat and fishing for many of the same things they're looking for. Sometimes that means getting out of the water, backing off, and letting them do whatever they're going to do.
Those encounters have a way of immediately correcting your perception of where you stand in the food chain.
They're also part of what makes Alaska feel genuinely wild. Not wild in the marketing sense of the word. Actually wild.
You're a visitor there.
Four fishermen share the river with a grizzly bear in the distance.
Grizzly tracks cross the sand along the river, a reminder that fishermen are visitors here.
Fishing in Alaska comes with the occasional reminder that you're in bear country.
More Than Fishing Photographs
The older I get, the less interested I am in photographing only the obvious part of an activity.
A picture of someone holding a giant rainbow trout certainly has value, but it doesn't necessarily tell you what the trip felt like.
Sometimes the photograph that stays with you is a fisherman walking across an empty landscape.
Or a guide heading back toward the float plane.
A rod leaning against an old truck.
The view through the windshield on the way to the water.
Friends laughing at the end of a long day.
Those pictures fill in the spaces between the fish. And years later, they're often the ones that bring the experience back most clearly.
That's the part of fly fishing photography that continues to interest me.
On the road to the water, fishing gear and the day's essentials ride along on the dashboard.
Fishermen make their way across the river beneath the mountains.
Alaska From the Air
There is also something about seeing Alaska from a small airplane that changes your understanding of the place.
From the ground, you're standing beside one river.
From a few thousand feet up, you realize there are hundreds more.
They snake across the landscape in every direction, most of them inaccessible by road and many without another person anywhere nearby.
It's impossible to fly over that much water without wondering what's down there.
That's probably dangerous thinking for a fly fisherman.
From the air, Alaska's tundra stretches out in every direction, with rivers cutting through the landscape.
Lakes and mountains spread across the landscape below the float plane.
Far below the float plane, a braided river winds through the tundra.
Why Alaska Sticks With You
Eventually the plane comes back.
You load the rods, climb inside, put on the headset, and watch the river get smaller beneath you.
Tomorrow you'll probably fly somewhere else.
That's Alaska fly fishing.
Yes, there are big trout and salmon. That's certainly part of the attraction. But reducing Alaska to the size or number of fish misses most of what makes the place special.
It's the uncertainty of where you're going that morning. It's flying over country without roads. It's standing in a river and realizing a grizzly bear has considerably more authority over the situation than you do. It's the people you fish with and all the strange little moments that happen between leaving the lodge and coming home.
The fish give you an excuse to go.
Everything else is why you remember it.
Taking a break and sharing a laugh.
Fishing gear and an old truck are part of the routine between the road and the river.
From above, mountains and glaciers stretch across the landscape in every direction.
Fly Fishing Photography, Prints & Licensing
This Alaska series is part of my larger body of fly fishing photography documenting anglers, guides, rivers, and the culture surrounding the sport throughout the American West and beyond.
Select fly fishing photographs are available as fine art prints, and images from the Alaska archive are also available for commercial and editorial licensing.
View more of my fly fishing photography or browse available fly fishing photography prints.
For all licensing inquiries, contact me directly at rob@robhammerphotography.com.
Rivers and lakes wind through the tundra as the float plane passes overhead.
Bullet holes cover a weathered road sign along the road to the river.
Sharing a laugh between the flight and the fishing.
Working a stretch of river with a landing net.
Casting across the river with the mountains in the background.
