The second half of June in Alaska is renowned for salmon fishing opportunities. With the fish storming in from the ocean on their way to their breeding grounds, the Kenai Peninsula becomes one of the busiest places for tourist and resident anglers. Last year we underestimated just how popular this activity was. With wait times of an hour plus just to get into the main Russian River access parking lots, and no available campsites for 30 miles, we had a very long, very tiring, 36 hours trying to catch our first salmon as Alaskan residents. But in the end we were skunked. Our then 2 year old had endured 20 hours of driving, "camping" out of the back of an SUV, and less than 10 hours of sleep about as well as a toddler could - which wasn't great at all. That drive home sucked.
But this year was going to be different. We had a plan with 3 full days set aside, a predetermined campground picked out, plenty of camp activities and entertainment for our daughter to enjoy, and joyful spirits on our quest to pull salmon from the Russian River.
A half hour into the drive our puppy got sick all over the back seat, but it's ok. I was anticipating this and had towels already laid out for just this occasion. 30 minutes after that, the puppy got sick all over my lap... That one I wasn't expecting.
No less than an hour into our trip and I was already digging through the "just in case" bag.
For those who haven't traveled in Alaska, the towns are few and far between. Our first stop was still an hour away. Once we reached Healy we were able to replace the now saturated towels and grab extra provisions to deal with the stronger than imagined car sickness our littlest one was experiencing.
I'm happy to say though, suddenly the puppy was cured of her car sickness. Thanks Sif.
Thankfully, the rest of the drive was uneventful. As we approached the Russian River, around 8pm, we started giving our toddler the "it's almost bedtime" speech. Prepping her for pajamas and winding down once we pulled into camp and had the tent set up. Alas, our plans were foiled yet again.
We pulled into the campgrounds shortly after 8pm to find out that some time between our last visit, at the end of April just 6 weeks prior, and now, the campgrounds had switched over to reservation only. And there were no reservations left.
We quickly drove through several other campgrounds between the one we intended to stay at and the Russian River Campground entrance with little hope of finding an open spot. We knew everything would have been booked months in advance which is why we had chosen a spot 20 miles past the fishing area in a tucked away campground that had been nearly empty on several previous trips.
The least we could do at this point was head to the water to start fishing while we formulated plans C, D and E.
It was now approaching 10pm. My husband was down in the river while I attempted to entertain a restless toddler, and 3 dogs, in the day parking parking lot and frantically scoured the internet for open reservations. This trip was seeming oddly familiar.
After an hour of standing in the water, Brad returned empty handed with reports of no fish in sight. I had thankfully found a campsite with some open spaces though, so we loaded everyone back in the truck to drive another 30 miles in the opposite direction... Thank goodness for the "eternal" sunshine of Alaskan summers, because pitching a tent in the dark would have been quiet the challenge.
The next morning we took our time getting ready for the river to let our toddler and dogs get some much needed energy out. Around noon we found ourselves back in the Russian River day parking lot, but this time ti was in the back lot since everyone was ready to pull some salmon from the river. It was now my turn to stand in the river and try my luck. I quickly realized that the fishing conditions hadn't changed much since the previous night.
Anglers to my left and to my right were simply sitting on the banks enjoying some down time as very few of us had even caught a glimpse of a salmon. Less than 2 hours later we knew we had timed the trip wrong, again. Last year we were just a couple days late; this year we were too early. We jumped back into the truck and started the drive back to camp.
The rest of the afternoon was spent playing with our daughter. We found a small creek and had barkey boat races (Bluey fans will understand); experimented with what sinks and floats; followed the train tracks, collection old pieces and getting the conductor to honk his horn; taught the puppy how to play ball; found a small fudge shop; collected bugs for our bug house; and did general camp activities. By the end of the day we knew we were going home with empty coolers, but that was ok. It was ok that we didn't catch anything (event though I did return to the river at bedtime for one last hope) and it's ok that we won't be putting the Russian River on our list of trips for next summer, because in the end Brad and I both know the best thing to come out of the trip was Harper asking "When are we going camping again?"