The Beasts of Hells Canyon

Introduction        

I’m still processing this trip and struggling to describe what happened. Everything about it was impressive. If you’ve been reading my travel blogs for a while, hopefully that means something coming from someone who’s covered a lot of water.

The scenery. The fishing tactics. The guides. The accommodations. And, of course, the fish.

Where do I even begin?

I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning.

A Quick Refresher: 50 Before 50

It’s been a long time since I’ve published a travel blog, and I have some new readers, so it’s worth offering a quick refresher on my “50 Before 50” mission.

For about twenty years, I’ve had a goal of fishing in every state before turning 50. I turn 48 in a couple of days, and I’ve now fished in every state except Delaware and Hawaii. Confident that I’ll check both of those boxes in time, I’ve spent the last couple of years focusing on bucket-list destinations and pursuing species that have always interested me.

That journey is what ultimately led me to Hells Canyon.

Discovering Hells Canyon

Until recently, I didn’t even know Hells Canyon existed.

I stumbled across it while searching for places to catch white sturgeon. Here in the Buffalo-Niagara region, we have Great Lakes sturgeon. They’re protected, meaning we can’t target them and must release them immediately if caught. Over the years, though, I’ve accidentally hooked a few while fishing for trout and bass.

Every time I see one, I wonder the same thing: What’s it like to land a true giant?

So I started researching places where I could catch them. I’d known for years that white sturgeon are the largest freshwater fish in North America. My thinking was simple: if I’m going to catch and hold a sturgeon, it might as well be the biggest of its kind.  

Chasing Something Different

Pursuing “big fish” has never really been a priority for me.

I’ve been fishing for a long time and in a lot of places. I’ve caught trophies of a lot is species by sheer volume of experiences.  Barring some sort of catastrophe, that’ll keep happening. Given enough years on the water, I’m confident that encounters with truly giant fish just happen naturally.

This trip felt different.

For once, I wanted to make it a priority to chase something so large that there really isn’t anything to compare it to.

As I dug deeper, one place kept coming up: Hells Canyon.

The Snake River through Hells Canyon is home to a world-class population of white sturgeon. These fish grow to sizes that are difficult to comprehend until you’re holding one. It’s one of the few places in North America where you have a legitimate shot at catching a fish that’s older than you are, weighs several hundred pounds, and stretches longer than most people are tall.

The more I read, the more I had to make this trip happen.

I wasn’t just going to another destination. I was going to one of the wildest places in the country to pursue one of the oldest and largest freshwater fish in North America.

That sounded like an adventure worth having – and sharing with some bros.

A Place Worth Describing

Before getting into the fishing, this place deserves a description of its own.

I’d never heard of Hells Canyon until I started researching this trip, but it’s hard to overstate just how impressive this region is. Carved by the Snake River along the Idaho-Oregon border, Hells Canyon is the deepest river gorge in North America. At nearly 8,000 feet from rim to river, it’s actually much deeper than the Grand Canyon.

And this place is old. Really old.

The canyon floor was formed by volcanic islands that collided with the continent roughly 200 million years ago. The upper rims are capped by lava flows that are “only” about 15 million years old. Then, around 15,000 years ago, the catastrophic Bonneville Flood ripped through here and helped sculpt the canyon into what it is today.

I’m not a geologist, and honestly, you don’t need to understand plate tectonics or ancient floods to appreciate it. All you need to know is that you’re floating down a river between enormous rock walls in one of the wildest and most rugged places I’ve ever seen in North America.

I’ve said this in a few recent travel blogs, and apparently I need to keep saying it: every time I think I’ve seen the wildest corners of this country, I discover another one.

I’ve fished the Colorado in the Grand Canyon. I’ve paddled the Rio Grande through Big Bend.

This place was every bit as mind-blowing as either of them.

Maybe even more so.  

A Fish Worth Describing

Before this trip, I knew sturgeon were ancient fish. I just didn’t appreciate how ancient.

Sturgeon have been around for more than 300 million years. To put that into perspective, their ancestors were already swimming around long before dinosaurs ever appeared. And unlike most species, they’ve changed remarkably little over all that time.

They don’t even look like typical fish. Their skeletons are made mostly of cartilage rather than bone. They have shark-like tails, whisker-like barbels that help them find food, tiny eyes, and rows of hard, armor-like plates called scutes running down their bodies.

Everything about them feels prehistoric.

The fish we caught were almost certainly older than any of us.  Maybe the same age as our parents. When you hold one, it doesn’t feel like you’re holding a fish. It feels like you’re holding a living relic from another time.     

Execution

Now you know about the area, how I ended up there, and why.

Let’s talk about the crew and the logistics.

The Crew

The crew will be familiar to those who’ve been reading my travel blogs for a while.

My brother Brian was there, of course. So was Lee—you might remember him from North Dakota and Mississippi. That’s already a solid team, but I wanted to round this one out with a fourth.

Thankfully, my buddy Mike Trifiletti of Riverborn Fishing Company was able to make it work.

Mike couldn’t resist the opportunity to hold one of these fish. He previously helped state biologists tag Great Lakes sturgeon around Western New York, so he already had an appreciation for these prehistoric creatures. Plus, he’d been with me to Guyana a couple of times and caught arapaima, so the chance to pursue something even bigger was impossible to pass up.

I’m glad we rolled four deep.

It was the perfect number—almost like a fire team. The personalities meshed well, there was always somebody to laugh with, and everyone could appreciate the significance of where we were and what we were chasing.

That mattered because sturgeon fishing isn’t all action.

That’s not a complaint by any means. In fact, I think the anticipation is part of what makes it fun. But there are long stretches between bites. According to our captain, Jason Schultz, fishing was slow while we were there, and we averaged about four fish per day.

When you’re spending hours waiting for the next rod to load up, having a good crew dynamic becomes part of the experience.

Getting There

Travel was easy.

We all flew into Spokane, Washington (GEG). Mike and I came in from Buffalo, New York. Brian flew in from Richmond, Virginia, and Lee came from Jackson, Mississippi. We all landed within a couple of hours of one another.

From there, we grabbed a rental car and drove a little less than three hours south to the lodge.

The drive was smooth and, in hindsight, a nice way to ease into the trip. The terrain gradually became wilder and more rugged, building anticipation for what was ahead.

Accommodations

The lodge was perfect.

It was only a short walk from the dock, the views from the porch were fantastic, and the beds were comfortable. There was even a massage chair—which all of us used. Admittedly, I found the experience more unsettling than relaxing, but apparently I’m in the minority on that one.

Luz was our chef, and she did an incredible job. Breakfast and dinner were prepared for us each day, every meal was different, and every meal was excellent.

Guides

Our guides were Jason Schultz, owner of Hells Canyon Sport Fishing, and his son, Braden.

I can’t say enough good things about their operation.

The boat was impressive—I honestly can’t imagine a better craft for this fishery. The tackle was all top of the line, and everything was organized and dialed in.

These guys were pros.

Jason has been guiding on this river for more than thirty years, and his knowledge of the fishery was obvious. We all walked away having learned something. He’s also exceptionally well-traveled, which kept the conversations interesting throughout the trip.

Most importantly, both Jason and Braden had great senses of humor. That’s an underrated quality in a guide, especially in a fishery where there can be long stretches between bites.

They left an impression on all of us.

Timing

If you’ve been keeping up with my fishing reports, you’ll remember that I managed to fish 52 straight days leading up to this trip. That’s a personal record, but spring is always a hectic time of year for me, and long stretches without a day off are pretty normal. In other words, come June, I’m ready for a little vacation.

June in the Buffalo-Niagara region is also a bit of a transition month. The spring fisheries are winding down, and before I start going hard on walleyes nearly every day all summer, I like to sneak away for an adventure.

I’ve been looking for a reliable destination for this time of year, and I think I may have finally found it.

There are a few reasons.

First, not many people are willing to travel across the country to fish for sturgeon. Their loss, my gain. June is actually considered the slow season out there, with things really ramping up from September through January during the salmon and steelhead run.

Second, the weather is excellent. It’s hot and dry, maybe a little windy here and there, but overall very stable. You’re going to fish every day. Mother Nature usually doesn’t get in the way.

Finally, it’s a great time to target sturgeon. Water temperatures are on the rise—we arrived just as they were approaching 70 degrees. At those temperatures, these fish are full of energy.

And when one finally decides to eat, you get the very best version of a white sturgeon can do.

Final Thoughts

As I sit here writing this, I’m still processing the trip.

A few months ago, I didn’t know Hells Canyon existed. Now it’s one of the most impressive places I’ve ever fished.

I spent several days floating through the deepest river gorge in North America with good friends, guided by outstanding people, pursuing fish that have been swimming this planet’s waters for more than 300 million years. The scenery was spectacular. The fishing was unique. And holding one of these ancient giants was every bit as surreal as I’d imagined.

At this point in my life, genuinely new experiences are becoming harder to find. I’ve covered a lot of water and have been fortunate enough to fish in some incredible places.

Then a trip like this comes along and reminds me that there are still wild corners of America I know nothing about and fish that can still leave me standing there, shaking my head.

I’ll be back…