I cannot help but share a bit more about my recent visit to British Columbia.  The days were full of fun and friendship… and we did manage some fishing! 

When we were making plans for my visit, Rainbow determined we would spend most of our time together at her cabin on a lake about a three-hour inland journey from the city.  I was surprised to find out we would not be leaving for the cabin until we had one more day at home.  She had arranged for us to have a day of fishing before our trip to the lake.  I am always up for a day of fishing.  She said “I have a bit of a surprise for you… we are going sturgeon fishing!”  The seatbelt of the vehicle was the only thing that kept me from jumping up and down in sheer delight!

On day two, we met Rainbow’s friend and fishing guide, István for a day of fishing the Fraser River.  István is from Hungary.  He is an expert fisherman and guide, and his knowledge of rivers, lakes, and the fish he pursues is beyond reproach.  This man lives fishing.  He is generous with his knowledge and patiently answered my unending questions.  This was my first experience fishing a river this large, with tackle this large, for fish this large.  István was up to the task.

As he drove the boat, he and Rainbow shared reports on local lakes and rivers… how the water had been, insect activity, fish behavior, weather… all of the important aspects of fishing.  They shared stories with me of how they came to become fishing companions, discussed local fly patterns, and shared information I cannot share in this writing.  Fly fishing still holds some things sacred… despite no secret handshake.  One does not share secret spots or secret patterns.  Otherwise, one is not invited back!

Given our goal was sturgeon; we would not be using flies.  Sturgeons are essentially blind.  They feed sweeping the bottom of the river with feelers and “scent gatherers” located along the underside of their head that allow them to zone in on a meal.  The baited hook lies on the bed of the river, or very close to it, and the fish (hopefully) come to find it.  The sturgeon has a giant vacuum hose for a mouth and sucks in its food. 

István told us the river had been fishing very well.   As he prepared and casted the lines, he said we were in a spot that held some “big fish”.  Me: “How big”?  István: “Oh, seven or eight.”  Me:  “Seven or eight feet??”  István: “Yes, seven or eight feet would be a good one”. 

Are you kidding me?????

These are BIG fish. 

I will fast forward through our day.  Why?  Well, it was a story of “you should have been here yesterday”.  The fishing was slow.  Painfully slow to István, who worked madly to try to find the fish.  He knew they were there as the river holds thousands of these giants.  He fishes the river 200 days a year, so he knows where they like to hang out.  However, they were not being particularly cooperative in the quest to find them.  As I like to remind myself, there is a reason it is called “fishing” not “catching".

Shortly after lunch, there was a good twitch in one of the rods.  István leapt from his vantage point, put his hands on the rod and patiently waited and watched without moving it.  Again, the rod twitched… then again… and BAM!  Using his entire body, István set the hook with one giant pull. 

It was ON! 

I was called to action, and handed the rod.  I am so grateful for every hour I put in at the gym!  This is NOT fishing for wimps!  I felt the power of the fish on the end of the line and keeping a bend in the rod to keep the fish on required strength and attention.  Rainbow strapped a fighting belt around my waist to position the rod butt and give me a better hold.  As I held with two hands, István would provide instructions for when to point the rod tip down, when to pull back, and when to reel it in.  Given my effort, he determined the fish to be a “small one”.  I thought to myself, “Seriously?  This is a SMALL one??”  It took about 20 minutes to get the fish to the boat.  When we did, and measured, it was 44 inches long.  As sturgeon are concerned, this was a baby.  We handled it carefully, took some photos, and slid it back into the river. 

Rainbow explained to me on our way to the boat that morning that István would be preparing the gear, baiting the hooks, casting, and then setting the hook.  I think of myself as a proficient angler, able to handle myself with a fish. I was curious as to why I was not permitted to set the hook.  When given the opportunity to examine this species up close with hands on, I quickly learned why, with a "newbie" on board, the guide manages the process until the fish is on.  Sturgeons have a ring of cartilage around their mouths that is wide and thick.  Trying to pierce that cartridge with a hook large enough to hold the weight of that fish is not an easy task.  Sure, I could have tried, but it was very likely given my lack of experience that it would have been a lost opportunity to hook the fish.  That is a skill I did not have time to master in one outing.

Although I was ELATED to have fought this fish and brought it in, István was disappointed it was small.  He was determined he could find us a bigger fish.  The day went on.  We were getting tired, and the sun was starting to move towards the horizon.  István moved us to “just one more spot”.  Again, he readied the lines.  Again, he cast them out.  Again we watched eagerly for movement in the rod tips.  Given there were three of us in the boat, there were three rods out.  We called them One, Two, and Three.  “Number two!” “Number two!” Rainbow and I shouted!  István was already on his way to the rod… waiting… watching…

BAM!  Fish on!

Again, I was called to take the rod.  Again, I grabbed with two hands as Rainbow wrapped the belt around my waist.  Again, I pulled back. 

This was NOT a baby fish.

The force and energy at the end of the line was incredible.  I could feel power and muscle and it took all I had with my body pulled back against the rod to keep the rod tip up as the entire rod bent under the force of our battle.   I listened for instruction as I laughed with excitement and felt the adrenaline rush.  I pulled and reeled and waited.  Then I felt a shift.

I told my companions what I was feeling… “He’s moving… UP.”  István said, “He’s going to jump! Keep the line tight!”  And jump he did!  I felt the surge of power as the giant fish launched its body up and out of the water and it came down with a crash, only to be pulling harder.  I bowed the rod tip to the surface as I reeled and pulled back again.  Almost close to the boat, the fish turned and pulled line out against the drag of the reel, undoing my work of getting him in.  Again, we battled.  He tired a bit, and I was able to get him to the boat.  Given his size, he had to remain in the water and would not be lifted.  István slowly moved the boat to shallow water where we could get out and join this magnificent creature and I could meet him face to face.

The fish measured five and a half feet long.  Not the monster fish our guide had hoped for, but a monster for me, and the biggest fish I have ever had in hand.  We handled him gently, keeping him in the water to assure the water moved through his gills, keeping him safe and healthy for his return back to deeper water.  Rainbow snapped photos and recorded my moment.  After a few photos were captured, I said my “thank you” to this glorious creature and was permitted the gift releasing him.  I positioned his head back to deeper water.  As I did, he bent his graceful body, flicked his tail and and swam to the safety of the river to rest.

I jumped and shouted and hugged my companions, thanking them for this gift.  “Next time…” became our mantra.  Yes, there will be a next time!

I am still smiling as I share this story.  I am grateful for my friends, old and new, for making my fishing trip a success.  I am grateful for the people who manage and value the amazing fishery they have created for the sturgeon in British Columbia.

Yes, there will be a “next time”. 

I am hooked!