Contributed by Bill Brokaw
What a day it was going to be! My favorite Alaskan trout fishing lake was my destination. This mountain-surrounded lake I had not visited for at least 15 years. It was anticipation excitement as I left my mid-hillside home located ten miles outside of Anchorage, Alaska. The clock in my car indicated 6:15am as I headed for trout-fishing happiness. Arising at 4:45am, I had fortified myself with French toast and coffee, knowing that lunch time would find me on the shores of Bonnie Lake with limited backpack food. My day-long trip was not for eating, but for wilderness fishing. This trip would allow me to enjoy the fantastic, natural beauty that God had created, and at the same time revisit a lake and many wonderful memories.
Rods, reels and fishing tackle, along with water and some snacks had been loaded in the car the night before. The early morning packing was merely moving the backpack and jackets into the car.
In days of yesteryear, Bonnie Lake had been had a source of escape from the pressures involved in retail management. Over a period of many years, I was accompanied by friends and family on a few of these trips, but normally it was just me. There’s so many stories about the many trips, but those will be for later. At this point I will share my day’s fishing experience and how it will affect any future trips to my lake of memories.
There was very little traffic on the divided highway north out of Anchorage, but almost bumper to bumper vehicles going to either Anchorage or the two military bases for the start of workdays. Elmendorf, a US air force base, and Ft. Richardson, a US Army base, are located next to each other and just a 10 minute drive from Anchorage, a modern city of nearly three hundred thousand folks of all nationalities.
As I motored the highway my thoughts centered on fun-fishing in Bonnie Lake. Actually, there’s two Bonnie Lakes. Lower Bonnie which I would drive to, and Upper Bonnie which is an approximate 2.5-mile walk through the rather dense forest, and was my fishing destination. The divided highway ends at Palmer, a small mountain-surrounded town with a population, according to the 2000 census, of 4,533. At Palmer the road narrowed down to two-lane blacktop with many twists and turns as it followed the line of least resistance through the Chugach Mountains. Since it had been many years since I had driven this road for summer fishing, I could not remember the exact mileage to the gravel road turn off which would take me to lower Bonnie. Before leaving Palmer, I stopped at McDonald’s for a quick potty break.
Once leaving Palmer, traffic was pretty much non-existent, but the constant curves of the winding road kept me from doing much more than 55 miles-per-hour. In a previous book, I had written, titled “Hearse to Hoops”, I had listed the mileage between Anchorage and the Bonnie Lake turn-off as 75 miles, but yesterday I found the distance to be a little over 84miles. Today I found out that the official distance is 83.3 miles. It is hard to believe I had not been correct in reporting that distance as there have been so many trips to this wilderness lake over 40 years. The highway out of Palmer is called the Glen Highway, but most old-timers refer to it as the Old Glen Highway, while the modern, divided highway out of Anchorage is referred to as the New Glen Highway.
I was surprised to see a small sign just before the turnoff to Bonnie that indicated a Bonnie Lake access road. Years ago there had been a large, elaborate log sign indicating a Bonnie Lake campground. This sign had been replaced more than once as the folks living in the area had taken it down in an attempt to keep a level of property privacy. I found out yesterday that this small metal sign was the only one that informed passerby’s of the existence of Bonnie Lake.
From computer investigation and according to the Chickaloon Comprehensive Plan (2008 Revision) I found the following information: “Bonnie Lake Boat Launch and Day Use area is located 2 miles from the Glenn Highway at mile 83.3. Originally created in 1966 as a State Park, it is now managed by Alaska Department of Fish and Game as a public access to Bonnie Lake. There is a boat launch, parking, and public toilet facilities. The access road is substandard, creating access problems for motor homes and trailers”. It is interesting that yesterday, after driving the 2 mile winding, gravel road back to Bonnie Lake I found no public toilets. Also, in the above description, there is no mention of two Bonnie Lakes, however I know better, and was ready to hike the very familiar trail to Upper Bonnie Lake.
I was surprised, when arriving at Lower Bonnie Lake, that my car was the only vehicle in sight. Since it was no longer a State Park, all picnic tables and toilets had been removed, so a pee in the weeds was necessary. However, the visual beauty of this lake surrounded by birch and spruce trees, and with snow-covered majestic mountains as a backdrop, was mind-refreshing. And to think, the lake and mountains had not been altered by man, during my absence. Across the lake from the boat launching dock were 4 or 5 cabins nestled in the trees. No wisps of smoke, so guess the inhabitants were either not home or felt no need for a wood fire. With so many trees surrounding their cabin homes, wood was the choice of heating comfort.
After putting on my backpack, grabbing my fully loaded tackle box, and with rods and reels in hand, I started my two and a half mile trek to Upper Bonnie Lake. Attached to my belt was a bell that would jingle as I walked and would ward off any bears in the area. At least, that’s what the information about the bell indicated. My hope was that it wouldn’t have to be tested. There were swift-moving clouds, but not a threat of rain, and with the temperature in the low 60’s, hiking conditions were good.
Less than a block from the car I came to a locked swinging gate made of pipe which effectively blocked all vehicles from proceeding. I merely stepped over the gate and continued walking on the road. I had only walked fifty feet when a 8 foot-high fence with a locked gate and posted with private property and no trespassing signs appeared. I had grandfather rights as I had walked back to the lake for over 40 years. There were no plans to destroy nature and all trash would come out in my backpack. As I walked along the fence my shoes became soaked. Not good to start out this adventure with soaked shoes.
The narrow, gravel road exists for an old homestead cabin that is located on the very northern end of Lower Bonnie Lake. Back in the early 60’s I rented a row boat from the homesteaders for family lake fishing. No boat rental today, as the 2 gates indicated their desire for privacy.
Having walked the equivalent of a couple city blocks I located what I thought was the beginning of a trail heading off into the dense forest. Dense undergrowth was missing and so was the well-beaten footpath that I walked for years. But I knew the direction and I’m confident that I’ll find my way to Upper Bonnie. Between the two lakes is a very narrow stream, and the area adjacent to this stream would be considered a bog. Bog walking is extremely difficult, as water and mud are prevalent, so I needed to stay close to the solid ground located along the edge of the bog. As I walked along the edge of the bog, I knew I really needed to be on higher solid ground, but there was so many fallen trees and the undergrowth was so terrible that I decided it wasn’t worth the effort to find the old trail. I also surmised that the old trail, because of none-use, would not be much better for my trespassing. Consequently, a walk that should have taken me an hour, took me two and a half hours of very difficult and energy-sapping effort. Guess I also realized that my 73 year-old legs may have contributed to my inability to expend the necessary energy required to move at a speed of a much younger man.
Upper Bonnie Lake is approximately ¾’s of a mile long and maybe a half a mile wide, and sits in the shadows of a couple mountains. What a sight it presented to my tired eyes as I finally arrived at the waters edge. A big splash, and I looked down to see a Mother duck and her baby paddling furiously out into the lake. Much as I wanted to fish at that location I found that there was too many hindrances to good casting. Moving along the shoreline, for approximately twenty-five yards, I found a much better fishing location. If total exhaustion hadn’t been prevalent from the hard walk to the lake I would have continued on to my favorite, end-of-the-lake location.
The joy of anticipated fishing had finally arrived. Rigging my line and using salmon eggs for bait, I cast out into the lake. Fishing definitely takes much patience, and is a waiting game. Guess at that point I was so relieved from surviving the tiring walk to the lake that relaxing and enjoying natures beauty were higher priorities than catching fish. There was total quietness, except for the sound of a light breeze and the strange call of two loons enjoying the lake. Looking across the lake I could see two white things moving around, but could not see well enough to identify them. There were only 2 cabins on the lake and no evidence of being occupied. So, except for a few of God’s creatures, I was the only human person around.
For a couple hours catching just didn’t happen. There were a few tugs on the line indicating some inquisitive fish, but no real action. Using 2 rods and reels, enabled me to use 2 different fishing techniques. One rig was set up with salmon eggs, a bobber, and a small weight. Casting out as far as possible I would sit and watch for bobber-movement, indicating fish-biting action. Boredom set in after no bites, so I rigged up the other rod and reel with an artificial lure and a small sinker for continuous casting and reeling. The second setup seem to work better, causing the trout to hit the lure as I reeled in. After about 2 hours of watching and reeling, I finally pulled in a 10 inch rainbow. The fish wasn’t the size I had hoped for, so back into the lake for further growth.
As the afternoon wore on I decided that picture-taking needed to supplement fishing, and should happen before I began the long trek back to my car. My new Cannon digital needed to record some Bonnie Lake beauty for both memories and sharing. In the 40 years of hiking to this lake I had always brought my camera for wilderness recording. There would never be too many pictures of this area. With my zoom lens at the maximum of 10-power I pointed the camera towards the white things across the lake, and looking through the lens I discovered them to be swans. After swan discovery, I heard a loud splash and looked over to see a moose drop into the lake. He or she was enjoying an afternoon swim with the swans.
Being so absorbed in fishing and viewing the wild life, I had failed to notice that the weather was rapidly deteriorating. Dark, angry-looking clouds were on the scene, and suddenly there were loud claps of thunder accompanied by some light rain. I quickly decided it was time to vacate the territory. Earlier I had drank some bottled water, enjoyed a banana and apple, chomped on some chips, and had a couple tootsie roll pops for desert. Fortified, I felt I was ready for the hike back to the car.
Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperating. The rain was so intense, that my drenched clothes were clinging to me like a small babe clings to her mother. I found that wet clothes added weight to my frame, which in turn made walking much more difficult. Consequently, the hike back was much more difficult than my morning walk. There was so much effort used in just reaching the exit end of Lower Bonnie that I was on the verge of total collapse before starting the 2-mile walk between the lakes. One last picture was taken from a rocky ledge overlooking the total lake, and then the struggle to keep trucking through the dense, water-soaked undergrowth began.
Once again I could not locate the once-good trail that would make walking so much easier. I reached the conclusion that the 8-foot fence, no trespassing signs, and the energy required, discouraged fisher-folks and hunters from making the trek to Upper Bonnie. As the heavy rain came down I struggled wearily, wondering if fatigue and my hurting legs and feet would hinder me from reaching my car. Several times I lost my footing and fell, rolling down steep inclines. At one point, while laying in the grass, I caught sight of movement just beyond some nearby trees. My immediate thought was that the movement was either a bear or moose. Further movement and I saw the meandering moose, and heard the splash is it entered a nearby lake.
Three and a half hours of walking torture and my soaked body staggered to my car. What a wonderful sight was my lonely car, as it was still the only vehicle in the parking area. I immediately started up the car and turned the heater to high, and then proceeded to remove my wringing-wet, light jacket and sweatshirt. My soaked socks I had removed back at the lake, so walked sock-less. I didn’t leave immediately as I was concerned that my state of extreme fatigue might cause bad driving decisions. Also, I was hurting from Charlie horses (cramps) in both legs. Relaxing, while regaining my strength, was more important than driving. Ten minutes was all the time needed before I was ready for the 90 mile drive to home. Halfway home and the leg cramps returned so a short stop was necessary. It was absolutely wonderful to just sit and enjoy the comfort of a warm car and the spectacular roadside scenery as I motored home. Once home, I was greeted by a worried Pat. How was the fishing she asked. It was couple minutes before I found the energy to reply. I had a story to tell, but not the energy to tell it. Later, after a hot shower, words came, but not many, as sleep to recover was so necessary.
As the title of this writing indicates, “Farewell to Bonnie Lake”, is appropriate as I shall not return as a human being, but do hope my ashes will be sprinkled across the surface of Upper Bonnie Lake someday, while my Spirit will reside in this area forever.