Alaska Tales by Jake Jacobson

Author:Jake Jacobson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Publication Consultants

Kelly River Crawdads, or Lobster Groping in the Arctic

One of the best hunting and fishing areas in northwest Alaska is the Kelly River drainage, which empties into the Noatak River, about 20 miles upstream from the village of Noatak. Normally the gravel bars near the mouth of the Kelly provide excellent landing places for small aircraft. My family and I often visited the Kelly to fish for Arctic Char as it was about an hour by super cub from Kotzebue, and only a bit over a half hour from our lodge on Trail Creek . It was not far out of the way en route to the lodge, either, so we often landed there to pick up some fresh, fat sea-run char for supper.

We never had any conflicts with locals, who traveled to the area by boat or snow machine. In fact we often took supplies to one old Eskimo fellow, named Enoch, who lived in an old style log and sod cabin near the mouth of the Kelly. To avoid competing with those who used boats, we did not hunt the area close to any navigable rivers during the fall, until well after freeze up had prevented boats from traveling that far upstream.

Once in late September I had a guest hunter named Roy in the back seat of my super cub. A fellow from Kotzebue who wanted to get into the hunting business accompanied us in his super cub. The other fellow, who I will call Duane, especially liked spiny lobster, and I had three of the crustaceans along for a special camp meal.

As we flew toward the lodge, the weather worsened and air turbulence made our progress uncomfortable. As always we had a tent, sleeping bags, and other overnight equipment along, so I radioed Duane that I thought it best to turn around and check out the mouth of the Kelly for a suitable spot to spend the night. Then, wind and weather permitting, we could go on to the lodge the next day. Duane radioed back that, considering the turbulence and diminishing visibility, he was all for that idea!

The wind was steady and only about fifteen miles per hour at the Kelly, so I landed, told Duane the gravel strip was good, and told him to come on in.

As Duane put up the tent, I gathered drift wood, prepared a fire, and got out the lobsters.

It was nearly dark when another cub, which we did not recognize, flew over, circled us, saw our fresh tire tracks, and landed near our tied aircraft. The pilot walked over to me, introduced himself as Jeff, and said he was glad to see us and to find the safe place to land. He was from Fairbanks and was not familiar with the country, but had come up to hunt moose and caribou. When he saw the lobsters he excitedly asked where I had gotten them.

Aha! His question was an unexpected gift with which we could have some fun.

I told him they

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