Women these days are heading back to school. Some are getting advanced degrees, some are taking workshops to improve their resume, but others are going just for fun. They’re the ones that are learning to fly fish.

The schools operated by Women’s Flyfishing® give women a chance to spend four incredible days at a woman-owned and operated Lodge in the wilds of Alaska, learning flyfishing skills, and having a great time doing it in the company of other women.

Photo used with permission of Women's Flyfishing®

The adventure begins with a breathtaking float-plane flight from Anchorage, with Mt. McKinley in the distance. We land in the canyon of Alaska’s Skwentna river, site of one leg of the world-famous Iditarod Sled Dog Race. There we’re met by the boats from Claire Dubin’s Talstar Lodge for the fifteen minute trip to the Talachulitna River where the school takes place. (Can’t pronounce Talachulitna? No problem. Alaskans call it the “Tal.”)

As everyone scrambles out of the boats and the gear gets loaded onto the four-wheelers, Jack, the famous Lodge dog with one blue eye and one brown eye, greets us with his furiously wagging tail and his unusual wolf-like stare. Although his black body emerging from the willows has made us think “bear” more than once, he’s actually a great bear alarm system while we’re fishing.

The eight-foot high ferns and fuscia fireweed blossoms along the path to the Lodge always provide a great introduction to the cozy log buildings surrounded by towering cottonwood, spruce and birch. The path also introduces everyone to Alaska’s famous mosquitoes and other pesky insects. Headnets appear as if by magic.

After settling into the cabins we wader-up and head down to the river for the first of several casting sessions. Soon everyone is executing their overhead cast with confidence and even catching trout! “He’s not very big, but he’s my very first trout,” someone yells! Lots of encouraging words follow.

The first evening, after one of Robert the fishing-chef’s magnificent dinners, we hold the first knot-tying session. That’s the only “class” not held right out on the water. When everyone is confident they can do the knots on the river (with me and my assistant guide standing by to help) we retire in anticipation of some very early-morning salmon fishing.

The Women’s FlyfishingÒ school is the only one that gives students a chance to master both heavy and light weight rods, lines, and flies because we have rainbow trout, dolly varden char, arctic grayling, and at least three kinds of Pacific salmon in the river during the school.

We hit the river around six a.m. and spread out along a long sand bar where we can see fish swimming right off the end of our fly rods. That doesn’t mean they are easy to catch, however. Everyone applies their newly learned casting skills to an 8-wt rod and a line with a 5-foot sinking tip.

“This is much easier than casting the floating line,” one student says, but the woman fishing right next to her disagrees. The debate ends suddenly when Lynn from California hooks into a leaping silver (coho) salmon. “Hang on, Lynn. Palm your reel when he runs,” I advise.

“I’m so excited, I’m shaking,” Lynn reports, but it isn’t long before she’s proudly holding up her prize for all to see. Two others also land fish that morning, with the rest of the group also hooking up even if not landing.

Over a huge brunch, complete with warm cheese rolls, we discuss once again how to drift and strip the fly, how to react when the fish touches the fly, and how to set the hook, and much more. It isn’t long before everyone is ready to venture out again for an afternoon of rainbow fishing and some roll and side-arm casting practice.

We gear up with 5-weight rods this time as well as tying on collapsible wading sticks for some lessons in safe wading and head out. As we hike down the river, we walk a narrow trail through high brush. “O.K. everyone, it’s time to let the bear know we’re coming,” I suggest just about the time we spot a large pile of bear scat full of berry seeds. Accompanied by loud singing and hand-clapping, we emerge out onto the huge sand-bar from which we’ll fish without ever seeing a bear.

Most of the group begins by drifting a fly that imitates a salmon egg. The huge, dark shapes of king salmon are spawning right in front of us, and rainbows and dolly varden char gobble salmon eggs as fast as they can.

It’s a lovely arctic grayling, however, that Candace first hooks into in that stretch, with a several rainbows to follow. Throughout the afternoon there are lessons on fly selection, reading the water to find fish, and, of course, some on-the-water knot tying practice.

On the hike home, Lisa and Cheryl take rainbows from the lovely slow glide right below the lodge. Since we’re all tired from the early morning and the long hike, we opt for wine in front of the fire and one of Robert’s salmon specialty dinners with chocolate cake & coffee rather than fishing again that night. Instead, we retire in anticipation of another early morning the next day. (Everybody gets salmon-fever pretty quickly and is eager to head back to our morning fishing location.)

It’s really worth getting up that next morning. The group hooks fish after fish as new schools enter the clear-water “Tal” out of the silty Skwentna. Everyone gets to see the famous “humpies” of Alaska, as Cheryl and Candace catch pink salmon (that develop a huge hump on their back during spawning) one after the other. We don’t keep these fish as they’re not good to eat this far inland. Instead, this becomes the morning for practicing the proper way to release fish.

Our last day provides more salmon and dolly varden fishing below the Lodge with both Barbara’s and Lynn catching several fish and Candace losing (boo-hoo) what was probably the largest rainbow of the trip. Lisa takes a large carmel-colored rainbow with huge spots, one of the leopard trout that the Tal is famous for and after a kiss on its snout, releases it to fight another day.

There’s lots of discussion about gear for different species, waders, boots, leaders, tippets as we reluctantly wait for the float plane to take us back to civilization. It’s raining as the plane takes off and that only adds to the touch of sadness everyone feels in leaving. But the talk is already of where they’d be fishing next, what other species they want to try for, and how good that silver salmon is going to taste at home on the grill, and more.

Lucky the women that begin their flyfishing journey on such a river. They’ve only just begun.

©2001 Cecilia “Pudge” Kleinkauf, Owner, Women’s Flyfishing®