"Swoosh, ker-splash!” That’s the sound the 24-ounce weight made as it arced through the air and landed into a current seam about 30 feet from our boat on British Columbia’s Fraser River. Just outside the town of Chilliwack, we were fishing for white sturgeon — Canada’s largest freshwater fish — during the Jurassic Classic. I was there in August with a small group of media guests of sponsor Yeti, hosted by the Wild Sheep Society of BC and the Guide Outfitters Association of BC.
The society hosts an annual two-day sturgeon tournament to raise funds and awareness for its conservation work, supporting four species of wild sheep: Rocky Mountain, California bighorn, Dall’s, and Stone’s, as well as mountain goats. Although we weren’t competing in the tournament, we were glad to get in on the action.
For the first two days, we fished with guide Rick Stahl, with Great River Fishing Adventures. He was the guy making the ker-splash, hurling heavy lead sliding rigs baited with either salmon heads or strips. We used stout tackle for hauling in fish that can top 300 pounds. No room for finesse, here.
With six of us comfortably aboard on the first day, Stahl cruised upriver from a launch just outside of Chilliwack. After a 25-minute ride through the stunning scenery sandwiched between the North Cascades and the Coast Mountains, we pulled into one of Stahl’s secret spots. Good sturgeon water checks a few boxes, he said, like having slow to moderate current, being just off a seam, a sandy bottom, and a nearby drop-off for good luck.
Stahl nosed up to the head of the run and anchored just above a drop. Four rods were spread out in rod holders, with lines under tension. We settled in, watching the rod tips for the tell-tail signs of action. The rods were numbered one through four from left to right, and as we chatted — asking questions about the fishery — someone would suddenly yell, “Two!” if the second rod twitched.
Stahl, who has been fishing sturgeon on the Fraser since he was a kid, is skilled. The take from a sturgeon can vary wildly, he explained. “They will play with it…Pick the bait up, mouth it, drop it, pick it back up again.”
We weren’t rod-tip watching for long when Emma Bray, regional manager, PR and community events with Yeti Canada, shouted, “Three!”
Game on. Stahl grabbed the rod while our group politely argued who would be the lucky first to tackle a sturgeon. They volunteered me and I happily obliged. As the reel’s drag sang, I got my first real taste of the fish’s awesome power. Luckily, we had hooked the perfectly sized “starter” sturgeon.
At just over four feet, it was manageable enough that I was able to land it in what felt like 15 minutes. Smaller fish were brought alongside the boat, handled carefully, photographed, and released — this is a catch-and-release fishery.
Next up was Edwin Poulston, editor-in-chief of Snowboard Canada magazine. Along with pro photographer Mike Rutter, he was the first of our group to feel the true power of a Fraser giant. After a battle that pulled us several hundred yards downstream, he beached a seven-foot, 10-inch trophy.
Postmedia writer Meghanne Uptigrove landed the next fish, a comparatively manageable three footer. Then, Bray and I tag-teamed the next fish, with help from Poulston. It turned out to be our largest fish of our trip. Big fish, we learned, require a team effort. That includes taking turns on the reel, helping strap on a rod belt, and yelling encouragement. It was the purest form of angling camaraderie I’ve experienced.
By the end of the first day, we had landed 10 fish, including one measuring eight feet on the nose, several seven-footers, and a few smaller ones. On the ride back to the launch, we were all smiles, sharing hard-earned sturgeon-fighting tips (now that we were seasoned sturgeon anglers, of course) and asking whether anyone had remembered to pack extra strength Advil.
The second day started slower, but we still landed six fish. That put us in the lead for the tournament we technically weren’t competing in, although we claimed the bragging rights.
That evening, the Jurassic Classic was capped off with a gala at a hotel. Winners were announced, an auction and funds were raised for conservation, and I got to learn a lot more about the impressive work of the Wild Sheep Society of BC.
Day three was a bonus, spent on the water with Dean Werk, owner of Great River Fishing Adventures.
We drove to the town of Hope, where Werk met us at the launch for a tour of the Fraser Canyon. There, the river funnels through narrow gorges, dropping rapidly in a dramatic, picture-perfect setting. Werk spoke about how historically important this region is to Indigenous communities because of salmon runs and the ideal location for wind-drying fish, and its role in the gold rush of the 1800s. We ate lunch on the bank of a crystal-clear feeder creek, and landed five more sturgeon, making our total 21 fish — not that anyone was counting.
I knew the Fraser River sturgeon fishing was special, but I was unprepared for just how much. The guides, the tournament organizers, our angling team, and the scenery all exceeded my expectations. As the reel’s drag sang, I got my first real taste of the fish’s awesome power.
Guiding Adventures start from $1,200 for up to four people.
Where: Fraser River, Chilliwack, and Hope, BC.
Contacts:
Great River Fishing Adventures
greatriverfishing.com
Coast Chilliwack Hotel
www.coasthotels.com
Wild Sheep Jurassic Classic
www.wildsheepsociety.com/wild-sheep-jurassic-classic
Bigger fish meant beaching the boat and stepping out for photos and a shallow-water release. We went ashore often.
Originally published in the Ontario Out of Doors Fishing Annual 2026.
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