To ease the chill, Bisson’s boat was stocked with hot coffee and doughnuts from Tim Hortons. He also had fish eggs to bait the great prehistoric bottom-feeders this river is world famous for.
Bisson, 50, a fishing guide with over two decades’ experience under his belt taking clients out on the protected river, waited on the gravelly shore beside his boat north of Chilliwack. His clients that morning, Galante and his assistants, soon arrived. Dressed for the weather, the men shook hands and then set out on the water.
“Our winters are usually around three to six degrees during the day,” Bisson told The Epoch Times.
He mentioned that Galante, being a scientist, had surmised that big fish didn’t bite in the winter, and even doubted Bisson’s expertise as a guide. Nevertheless, he promised Galante the “biggest fish he’s ever seen.”
The sturgeon not only bit, but later that day there was a double-header—two massive fish took the fishing lines at the same time.
Heading upstream, they boated an hour north of Chilliwack and Hope, then got warmed up by snagging several juvenile sturgeon and releasing them. Killing sturgeon from the Fraser River is illegal. They tagged the juveniles, because Bisson operates a program collecting data for government conservation efforts.
“We’ve never had so many small fish in our in our history,” Bisson said of the situation the juvenile sturgeon face.
Then Galante suggested they go find the big ones. Sturgeon is the world’s largest freshwater fish, reaching as much as three metres long.
Finding the giant sturgeon takes experience, Bisson said—and intuition. Asking him exactly how he does it is “a question too complex to answer,” he said, adding that it’s best “to be on the boat with me.” He knows when they’re hungry, where they might feed, and what bait to use.
On 240 days a year, Bisson is out on the water, guiding fishing tours. Throughout the winter he seeks sturgeon that can weigh anywhere from 300–600 pounds (140–270 kilos), some measuring over 10 feet (three metres) long. Some are 100 years old, he says. Over his fishing career, he’s caught over 26,000 sturgeon. All that experience adds up.
After finding a spot, the skipper steered his Woolrich 23-footer and passengers slightly further upstream before casting a weighted, baited lure downstream. The scent flows along the water and reaches the sturgeon, luring them up to take the line.
He noted the iconic B.C. surroundings. “We’re trying to break away from the crowd, get to more scenic mountains,” Bisson said. “[It’s] probably one of the nicest places in the world to be on a boat fishing.”
Then the excitement began.
Bisson saw the rod bend and nudged Galante; he had a bite.
“While he was fighting with that, I looked over. The other rod was already going down with another bite,” Bisson said, adding that there are no rule books for how to handle two huge fish at once.
“You need to have everything go right, because if they don’t, the lines will just cross and it will snap.”
The clients fought to reel in the fish, while Bisson constantly repositioned the boat, keeping cool and collected all the while.
“It’s kind of organized chaos,” he said. “Anytime you get a 10-footer caught, that’s about as powerful as you can get.”
And that’s just what they'd hooked. After a 30-minute struggle, the biologist had reeled in two monstrous sturgeon, one measuring 10 feet, the other eight feet. Bisson steered toward shallower waters where the fish become more docile and easier to handle.
“Once they’re in shallow water, you can take the hook out,” he said, likening the sturgeon to tired dogs after a good run. “They are gentle giants.”
“You can scan them, tag them, measure them, take your pictures,” he said. “Then they get released.”
Measuring from tip of the snout to the fork of the tail, Bisson called the 10-footer “one of the largest fish ever caught,” estimating it weighed around 500 pounds (230 kilos). He added, however, that it’s presumptuous to claim a record from the Fraser River.
For it to be legitimate, it has to be documented with paperwork submitted to the International Game Fish Association, he said. Though claiming to have “the shortest tape measure in the industry” (meaning he takes the fairest measurements), neither is Bisson claiming any records.
Record or no record, they were ecstatic.
It’s been good for conservation, he says. Millions have learned of his mission to map the species, which is thriving in the Fraser.
It’s been great for business, too.
Still rebounding from the COVID-19 lockdowns, which decimated many fishing guide businesses on the Fraser River, Sturgeon Co. is booming today. “I have two other guys that work with me now,” Bisson said, “I’m basically booking a year in advance. So that’s a good feeling.”
