The inscription on the photograph reads, "Thanks for the Big Butt!"
Larry Csonka, TNN. 'Butt' refers to the 118-pound halibut the former
fullback for the Miami Dolphins captured while filming his TNN Outdoors
show during a week in May, 2001, at Elfin Cove, Alaska. The photograph
of the former 1973 Super Bowl MVP and his trophy is one of the first
things guests notice as they arrive at Elfin Cove's world-class fishing
lodge, Tanaku Fishing Lodge. I was fortunate enough to be one of those
guests during a week last July when my long-time dream of catching
a giant halibut became a reality.
Elfin Cove is situated at the northern edge of what many refer to as
the Alaskan Panhandle, and better known as the Inside Passage. The town
of Elfin Cove, whose total winter population is less than 35 people,
is situated on Chichagof Island, approximately 75 nautical miles WSW
of Juneau, the state's capital city. Not far from well known Glacier
Bay National Park, Elfin Cove was one of the first natural, safe harbors
or "gunk holes" discovered by early sailors in the area. It
has remained that way with little or now erosion difficulties. As a result,
fishing lodges (there are five besides Tanaku Lodge) have taken advantage
of this uniquely beautiful and pristine location by offering fishing
trips and adventures that can be beyond belief.
"How's the fishing?" I asked one of the passengers on the Tanaku
Too, one of the lodge's four 34-foot trawler-type Californians, as I
proceeded to board the comfortable and well-equipped sport fishing vessel.
The two fishing gentlemen had gotten a beat on us by arriving at Elfin
Cove the previous night and had convinced the skipper, Capt. Mike Nichols,
to drift for halibut for a few hours until our mid-morning arrival.
"Check out the fishbox," said John Wienclawski, as he lifted
the cover and exposed three good-size fish. This immediately set me thinking
about what a fabulous week my fishing partner, Don Bennett of Brookhaven,
NY., and I were in for.
John and his father-in-law, John Carroll, both from Hampton Bays, NY
caught Pacific halibut in the 50-to 70 pound range in only an hour and
a half of fishing. So, with high expectations, we headed out to the fishing
grounds and quickly agreed that the large 'barndoor' halibut would be
our main focus during our five-day stay. We preferred not to fish for
the popular coho salmon and king salmon, since it was these fish that
were used for halibut bait. Besides, the cohos were much like our common
Long Island bluefish, while the kings compared somewhat to the ever present
striped bass.
It was hard to believe that less than 24 hours earlier we had been fighting
for a parking spot at the congested and chaotic JFK International Airport.
Now, after a majestic 45-minute floatplane ride from Juneau, we were
sailing into one of the world's few remaining frontiers.
As we approached the first halibut hole, know as Middle Pass, a pair
of bald eagles could be seen. They were perched among the cluster of
dark evergreens which helped comprise one of the many magnificent fjords
surrounding the area. As the boat came to a halt, a pair of orcas surfaced
off of our bow. Our cameras clicked away so vigorously that we redefined
the 'Kodak moment'. What a beginning to a terrific adventure! Surprisingly,
the rest of the day was a pick by Alaskan fishing standards. One here,
one there, with a few 'chicken' released. The 'chickens' are the 40-pound
or less fish. By 4:30 p.m., the highlight was John Carroll's 101-pound
barndoor. This was my second visit to Elfin Cove, and I had yet to capture
anything that had come close to 50 pounds, but I'd become a credible
witness, though not an overly active participant. I was beginning to
think that the 'whammy', similar to slumps which baseball players go
through, had been cast upon me. I had gotten three bites during the day
and had blown all three chances by lifting my rig too soon. I concluded
that the 14/0 circle hooks we rigged certainly were tricky to use and,
but now, I was not entirely convinced that they were the best hooks.
Suddenly, Capt. Mike announced that we would be making our last drift
of the day, and that we still needed one more fish in order to reach
our limit of eight on the day. The pessimistic side of me figured that
I would have to wait until tomorrow to catch that big barndoor I so anxiously
sought. However, one minute into our drift through the 200 foot water
depths, I felt a nudge on the end of my stand up rod. I heeded the captain's
instructions and let the fish 'eat some meat'. My body was like an extension
of a commercial longline In other words, I did nothing. Halibut caught
on longlines hook themselves. We, as anglers, must sacrifice everything
that we have learned, especially our fluke catching techniques, and simply
wait out the fish until it is literally pulling the rod and reel from
our hands. That is exactly what happened. Between the hookup and the
capture was a 15-minute blur. I knew that something very large was on
the end of my line, but I felt that the way luck had been going, it might
be a big skate or that some tragic hook or line mishap would occur. I
somehow reeled with the energy seen commonly among 16-year-olds, not
the frugal attempt of an overweight middle-aged male. Fortunately, the
captain and mate eventually stuck the gaff into the largest halibut I
had ever seen. When the fish initially came over the rail, my thoughts
were that I wouldn't care if I did not catch another halibut for the
rest of the week. My wish for a 'barndoor' had been granted, and I even
beat Larry Csonka. Back at the Tanaku Dock, the fish weighed 187 pounds.
Sounds pretty good, right? It was. Was it very big? Seven-foot long is
big by many standards. However, in Alaska, many anglers have caught halibut
of 300 pounds or more, and longliners regularly take 400 pounders each
season. Some fish have even been recorded by commercial fishermen at
more than 500 pounds. For those interested, the IGFA rod and reel all-tackle
record for Pacific halibut is 459 pounds. It was caught by Jack Tragis
while fishing from Dutch Harbor, Alaska, on June 11, 1996.
For the rest of the week we explored, discovered, and viewed much of
Alaska, specifically the Cross Sound, the edges of the Gulf of Alaska
and the encompassing Icy Strait. At times, eagles showed up like seagulls,
otters frolicked through the massive kelp beds, and watching sea lions
forage for prey actually became commonplace. At Point Adolphus, which
is approximately 25 miles from Elfin Cove, we watched humpbacks and killer
whales as if they were performing for the cameras on the Discovery Channel.
And, we caught more fish. During the five-day fishing week, the four
of us caught twenty-seven keeper halibut of 50 pounds or more and an
equal amount of throwback 'chickens'. Our quarry would later be filleted,
vacuum sealed, frozen, and shipped on our plane ride home. John Wienclawski
managed to capture a 129-pound barndoor on our last day. Ironically,
it was another 'whistle fish', caught on the final drift of our final
day. We also managed to catch a respectful number of Pacific (gray) cod,
rockfish, sculpin, lingcod, yellow-eyed red rockfish, and some silver
and pink salmon. Barndoor halibut are now permanently etched in my mind
as one heck of an exciting and outrageous fish. Memories of fishing at
Elfin Cove are difficult to describe accurately since there is little
to compare to with any experience in the Northeast. The scenery is breathtaking,
the wildlife is so plentiful, and the fish are so varied and different
that one must be there to truly understand what an Alaskan fishing experience
is all about. Currently, I am planning my third trip to Tanaku for this
July. If you have a dream of catching a barndoor halibut, I would suggest
you give Elfin Cove a try. You will not be disappointed.
