”Fishing With Donald Trump Jr. & Becharof Lodge On Alaska‘s Egegik River“
by
Scott Haugen
You can tell a lot about a person when the fishing is slow. You learn even more when their teenage kids are along and you’re in remote Alaska where fish are expected to be caught on virtually every cast…but they’re not.
Toss in bad weather, high water and several hours of bushplane delays, multiple times, and you truly learn a person’s character. Everyone is happy when the weather is nice and the fish are biting.
For nearly 20 years I’ve been writing about how good the coho fishing is on Alaska’s Egegik River. Last season was slow throughout most Bristol Bay rivers. I’m not sure why. Spend enough time in the outdoors and it happens, even in remote Alaska.
“You know what, that’s fishing, and sometimes having to work at it is just what’s needed,” shared Donald Trump Jr. when I fell all over myself apologizing for how slow the fishing was on day one of our adventure. Don Jr., his two sons Donnie (14), Spencer (10) and I, along with others fished hard all week. Fortunately, Don has been to Alaska numerous times, as well as many other parts of the world hunting and fishing. He knows nothing is ever a guarantee, not even catching coho in Alaska. Days before our fishing trip he hunted Da
ll sheep in Alaska and didn’t see a ram. He gets it. “Donnie has been to Alaska with me before,” continues Don Jr. “He’s caught coho on every cast and we had a good time, but this was Spencer’s first trip to Alaska and sometimes it’s good for kids to have to work at things.”
I’m an outdoor writer. I’m not a journalist. I don’t like calling people to interview them for stories. I like being afield with people, observing. I watch, draw conclusions and share. There’s a fine line between sharing and judging.
During my week with the Trumps, I watched a lot. I’ve hunted with Don Jr. before. We have an unspoken rule to never talk politics. I don’t interview him, either. We fish, we hunt, we share stories and enjoy being removed from the public. You don’t need to interview someone to learn about them.
Don Jr. is one of the most well-rounded outdoorsmen I’ve been with, period. There aren’t many people I’d feel comfortable having to survive in remote Alaska with should there be a plane crash, sunken boat, or bear attack. Don Jr. is one of them. I’d hunt and fish with Don anytime, anywhere because he’s confident, knowledgeable, anticipates situations, and works hard. He’s always positive, always considering what can be done to make situations better. And above all, he’s patient.
Watching Don Jr. and his two sons took me back to when my two boys were young. Whether we were fishing in Alaska or hunting in Africa, we always enjoyed our time together in the outdoors. But making each trip a success hinges on being a dad, teacher and cheerleader, all at once. You want to push them to succeed, but push too hard and it can turn them off. You want them to meet people, but not always are those people kind. You want them to be successful, but sometimes the fish simply aren’t there.
When fishing with your kids, you want to teach them techniques and enhance their ability to catch fish on their own. This is what Don Jr. did every single day. It didn’t take long to realize the fishing was going to be slow, and instantly Don made the most of it. “Spencer, tomorrow we’re going to drift eggs under a bobber, and the first salmon you catch we’re going to cook up for a shore lunch,” Don shared with his sons at dinner one night. And a great dinner it was, as always at Becharof Lodge on the Egegik River, thanks to Goni, the awesome cook.
For the next several minutes Don Jr., Donnie and Spencer were engaged in planning how they’d cook the fish. The atmosphere was fun. Then Goni happily helped the boys gather ingredients. We planned on cooking in the rain, and this included how to build a fire on the tundra with wet, limited wood.
The following morning Spencer caught a coho right away. He wanted to cook it on the spot. We kept fishing. Don Jr. educated his boys on how, even in Alaska, the morning bite can be the best time to catch fish. He assured them they’d cook the fish as soon as the bite slowed down. Eleven coho later, the bite slowed and it quit raining. There was a light drizzle.
Don cleared away some soggy moss on the tundra, exposing wet dirt to place sticks on to start a fire. Both boys headed to a rocky spot on a knoll and gathered armloads of dead, miniature willows. Don encouraged them to start gathering high, where the wind would have dried out the dead fuel and where the sandy soil provided ample drainage. The tiny sticks burned hot.
Don taught Spencer how to fillet the coho so they could cook it. The coho fillet was placed in aluminum foil. Salt, pepper and butter were added and the package set on the coals. We sat around the fire and watched the coho cook. We told stories and laughed. It was perfect.
It was one of the highlights of the trip for me. Going to such effort would have been an inconvenience for many, but not Don Jr. He knew the fishing was slow and in an effort to take the focus off that, seized the opportunity to teach his boys how to build a fire and cook their catch in one of the wettest habitats in North America.
One day we planned on going on a flyout fishing trip to a remote stream. Mark Korpi, co-owner of Becharof Lodge on the Egegik River, was in communication with the bushplane pilot in King Salmon. All morning we battled fog. One minute it was clear at Becharof Lodge, and at the same time it was foggy in King Salmon so the pilot couldn’t leave. After five hours of waiting, we called it off because there wouldn’t have been enough time to get to the stream and fish it. The entire time the Trumps were troopers, never down, never discouraged and understanding that the bush pilots always have the final say when it comes to traveling in remote Alaska.
The following day we hiked to Becharof Lake, Alaska’s second largest lake. This is the headwaters of the Egegik River and the fishing can be spectacular here. On the first cast I caught a fat coho. Donnie quickly followed with a big buck. Spencer waded amid big boulders in chest-deep water, hopped atop a big, flat rock and caught four coho by noon. He dubbed it Spencer’s Rock. He fished it another day, catching coho by casting spinners and floating BnR Tackle Soft Beads with cured edges beneath them. Between bites we combed the shoreline for agates and ate wild berries on the tundra.
The boys were never bored, never once complained. If they got tired and wanted to take a nap, Don let them. He knew if he pushed too hard, things could quickly turn. There was plenty of daylight to fish as much as we wanted to.
On our third day of trying we finally made it on a flyout trip. Due to high water levels the pilot dropped us on a lake well above the river we wanted to fish. It was 8:00 a.m. The pilot would be back at 5:00 to pick us up and head back to the lodge.It poured rain the entire day. The two mile hike across the wet tundra, through
thick alders and up and down steep hills was far from easy, but the Trump boys handled it like champs and reached the river. They didn’t complain one time. “That was one of the most enjoyable flyouts I’ve eve been a part of,” smiled David Stumpf, head guide for Becharof Lodge who just wrapped up his 15th season. We caught a lot of Arctic grayling and char.
The stream was high and far from easy to wade. In fact, it was difficult to wade in many places and it was a technical stream to fish. Don was on a mission, dissecting every riffle and back eddy with precision. Toward the end of the day we came to a big, deep hole. Fish were sparse, then we saw a grayling rise beneath some overhanging alders. Then another one rose. Don drifted a bead through the slot with no luck. Then he asked David for a dry fly. Over the next hour Don laid nearly every cast exactly where it needed to be and caught whopper grayling, lots of them, including one over 20-inches. I’ve fly fished in a lot of places with some exceptional casters, and Don Jr. tossed a fly as good as anyone I’d ever seen.
As we hiked out of the river, back up to the lake to meet the floatplane, the cloud layer dropped and fog began to build. It was a long, hard hike and we were all sweating by the time we got there. Don and I were thinking the same thing, that the visibility was so poor there was a chance we’d have to spend the night out there. David had a little tent that would have fit two, maybe three people. I think Donnie and Spencer were pumped with the prospects of possibly camping out. There was no fear or panic, just rational thinking that helped turn a potentially frightful situation into something exciting. But as darkness closed in, the bush pilot made it in, barely.
The more time you spend in the outdoors, the more you realize a successful trip isn’t always measured in numbers. Sometimes the most valued experiences are a result of making something out of nothing, getting to know people, finding the positives, even just making it safely back to camp.
I’ve fished with a lot of folks over the decades and my time with the Trumps was very memorable, not because of their name, but because of the kind of people they are. Positive, supportive, fun, and always willing to take on a challenge. Don Jr. recognized that slow fishing was the perfect opportunity to teach his sons about overcoming challenges, something they’ll face throughout life.
