Soldotna had a population of 0 in 1946. Yup, zero, an untouched forest of sorts, or at least unpeopled and unnamed, since the Dena’ina natives had vacated a century or more before, for whatever reason, but probably because they were tired of eating salmon. But then someone though a highway was needed to link the various unnamed and unpeopled areas of the Kenai Peninsula and so the bulldozers started their march from Cooper Landing, where the road had previously dead ended, around in a big crescent and on down to Homer, roughly 150 miles away but where 300 people did reside. The highway construction coincided with a homesteading act that allowed WWII vets, and then a few months later, most anyone, a chance to claim 160 acres by simply building a “house” and staying in it for seven months a year. Of course, there was no big land rush, but a few folks found their way and began to erect log slab cabins, standard size about 16′ x 20′. There was no electricity, and for years gasoline, for instance, because there were cars, was pumped by hand. There were no phones (though now it seems that every damn resident owns at least two of the cell variety). The phone didn’t arrive till the mid-50’s about the same time (1956) that electricity came to some parts of the berg. As far as I can tell, most of the residents, after they got their cabins erected, sat around arguing whether they lived in “SoldOtna or “SoldAtna.” The former triumphed in 1985, only under pressure from the feds who were felt the debate was getting a bit tiresome and wanted to put a name on the post office. This, despite the fact that oil was almost discovered, but natural gas really was, in 1957. Still, the town didn’t exactly boom, though the first bank arrived in 1959, and even a newspaper in 1960. But don’t let this fool you, a lot of those pioneers were still living in those slab log cabins, heating with wood and eating by kerosene lanterns and cursing the “O” in Soldotna. There’s a story, definitely not apocryphal, told one about one of the first pioneers to settle here that’s related in hushed and reverential tones. It seems that one Mac McGuire, formerly of County Donegal, had a serious type problem with a bear stealing his bacon from the cache outside his cabin. Other efforts failing, Mac got a slab of bacon, rind still on, and secured the bacon with several neat wraps of one end of a half inch rope. Then, he threaded the rope through window (no doubt he busted out a pane as I’ve seen Mac’s shack and the windows aren’t exactly double hung), across the room, and tied it to his ankle before retiring for the night. Sure enough, the bear stopped for his midnight sack, flitched the bacon, and started to run off. Said bear dragged Mac out of bed, across the room, thereby smashing an orange crate recliner, and slammed him into the wall beneath the window before Mac was able to break loose. So, keep in mind the type of individual who settled here as we fast forward to 2006. Now 3,700 gentle souls inhabit this small city that features a bridge crossing the mighty Kenai River. Yeah, it’s got government, and a McDonalds, and strip mall upon strip mall, and very good schools, but there’s only one real reason the place exists: SALMON— and mostly of the king and sockeye varieties. Anglers pilgramage from all over the world to cast a line and catch a king, or to cast many, many lines and catch a slew of sockeyes. No salmon, no town. It’s about that simple…..And that’s why I’m here, to catch a king, aka “jack.” So last Saturday, I spent untold dollars and nine glorious hours on the mighty Kenai with two attorneys from Frankfurt, Germany who had come here to catch a king they could mount. Under the expensive and able tutelage of a Kenai River Association Guide, we flailed away in the midst of four or five hundred other boats all stem to stern, gunnel to gunnel, and each loaded with three, or more often, four anglers. Only about 800 to 1,000 kings parade through these waters on any given day, and sometimes far fewer than that, so you don’t have to be a math whiz, or even a profound thinker like Mac, to see where I’m going with this. And so what did the three of us end up with at the end of nine hours? Nothing! But the big one got away, truly. Both of the other guys hooked up. In one instance we lost the king a distance from the boat. But just before closing time, Hans had one boatside three times, maybe just a tad too far for the guide to net, and then it wiggled and giggled and slipped off the hook. Absolute heartbreak! The poor guy was visibly upset till we got back to the dock an hour or so later. This is his second trip from Frankfurt to Soldotna, and the second time he’s flown home in disgrace. As he left, he vowed to the guide that he’d be back. Kings can do that to you!…. Now I’ve got a bit of Mac, and Hans, in me, so on Thursday, for only two thirds of the money I hired a guide for one half of the time of last Saturday and set out on my quest again. This time I was joined by Dave and a couple, Bonnie and Bob, from Minnesota. Our guide, pretty much a stand up comedienne, was aptly named Jeff King. And so it came to be. First Bonnie, then Dave, and finally me. It was only Bob for whom the lightening didn’t strike. But Bob is a veteran musky and walleye fisherman and he swallowed his disappointment with grace. The kings weren’t huge, the biggest being something under fifty pounds, but each gave a decent account of herself, eliciting joy and relief from all of us. I released mine but we brought Dave’s home and smoked part and have been eating suppers from the remainder since….. Meanwhile, back at the campground, the red, or sockeye, salmon is usually king, but not for the last nine days. A good part of Soldotna is given over to motels, campgrounds and RV parks. There are probably more people here— and they number in the thousands— seeking red salmon for the freezer than seeking the trophy king. As the sockeyes swim close to the river banks, they are relatively easy to catch, and unlike the kings and silvers a boat isn’t really necessary. This places a premium on river bank access The RV park where we’re staying, in addition to charging usurious rates, borders the river with a 900 foot boardwalk from which sockeye are usually harvested by the bushel roughly from mid July through late August. Not this year. The run of reds has been abysmal, so poor, in fact that a week ago last Friday the Alaska Department of Fish and Game banned fishing for reds in the hope that enough will escape upriver to spawn to avoid a total collapse of the fishery in future years. This ban has left the town brimming with unhappy people, many of whom journey here every year from far-flung corners of the States to do nothing but catch reds. With a bit of cooperation from the salmon, who finally seem to be returning in respectable numbers the last four or five days, the ban may be lifted early this week. As of a week ago, the run was only 20% of average, so a few anglers try to be understanding, though all are chomping at the bit, or more likely sharpening hooks, as there isn’t a whole lot else to do in Soldotna but fish. So that’s Soldotna, the “salmon Capital of the World.”….We’re here till Thursday morning so maybe we’ll get some sockeye fishing in yet. But on Wednesday, I venture forth with a guide and my flyrod to seek the elusive silver salmon. For those who just can’t live without another fish story, you don’t have long to wait….