Brown's Bay Fishing Chum Fishing Derby

Bud Sutherland - expert fishing guide and top 5 finisher in Brown's Bay Chum Derby

It's late October off the blustery northwest coast of Vancouver Island. The hour is indistinguishable under the dense layer of gray clouds and steady rain. Around us, the steel blue water is filled with bobbing fishing boats in all shapes and sizes, at least thirty strong. I huddle under the cover to avoid the downpour and sink deeper into my bright-red Survival suit. "Yep," observes Bud with a satisfactory nod, "This fishin' derby is for die-hards only."

Brown's Bay lies along the northern coast of Vancouver Island.

Handwritten chalk sign for this local's only competition

There are a number of fishing derbies throughout the year on the coastal waters of Vancouver Island, but the Brown's Bay Chum Derby takes the cake for being the most authentically local. It takes place annually on one of the last weekends of the real fishing season, as the final species of spawning salmon - Chum - make their way through the straights towards their spawning grounds. It's hard-core reputation stems from both the weather and quality of fish... each typically leave something to be desired. In fact, the Chum aren't really eaten other than being smoked, but they are a fun fish to catch because they fight like crazy.

For the second straight day, my guide was none other than the one-and-only Bud Sutherland. Bud grew up on Vancouver Island and claims to have began hunting and fishing before he could walk. When he's not working on the oil rigs in Northern Canada, he could double as a fishing charter captain. I was so lucky to have the great opportunity to go out with a seasoned pro - both in helping to catch the fish, but more so for not having to gut them myself. But first, the contest...

Bud bringing in Chum #1, a ten-pounder

Neither sleet, nor snow, nor hail could stop Bud from snagging one of the biggest fish of the day.

We dropped Bud's 22-foot powerboat into the water around 7am in total darkness. Soon after we were pushing out into deep water, following the GPS and Sonar to the best spot. Ocean fishing I quickly learned was a game of trial and error, checking depths and locations to find out where the fish were biting. A large congregation of boats were hugging close to the shore and not getting much action, so after an hour we pushed out much further into deeper water. We trolled along around one mile per hour, with one rod set for 45 feet and the other for 60. On the end of our lines was our bright pink lure, with a name I will never forget: DJ's Googly Eyed Chum Meister Wild Thing. How is it possible to fail with a name liked that?

Another Chum falls for the googly eyes!

Our GPS tracked our route as well as the depth of the ocean. You can tell by our crazy purple line that we were chasin' those fish all over the place!

A lone boat hugs the cliff. No fish there my friend...

Despite the cool weather and the unrelenting rain, I really enjoyed being out on the water and acting like a real "hard-core" fisherman. The basic plan was to locate the best place to catch the fish (Bud did this), get the boat to that spot (Bud did this), attach the right googly-eyed lure (Bud did this), drop our lines to the right depth (Bud did this), and then watch the poles for a bite (my job.) Upon a bite, the pole will bounce up and down really hard. You jump up and immediately yank the line back towards you to "set it" - meaning get the hook secure in the mouth of the fish - and then start reeling like crazy. When you have the fish next to the boat and all tuckered out from fighting, Bud would take the gaffer and snag the fish out of the water using a metal hook to the head. (As aggressive as it sounds, but it at least its quick.) The action was furious, and with a lot of spawning salmon in the water the bites came often. "For lack of a better term" it was a CRAZY experience.

Reeling in another whopper...

Get 'er done!

The easy part - displaying your fish!

The craziest story of the day (depicted on the video below right) was a "Double Header Rat Nest," which is local slang for catching two fish at the same time while getting your lines tangled. How we went from relaxed on the boat to suddenly utter chaos is still up for debate, but from sketchy eye-witness testimony this is what I gathered went down:

First Bud had a fish on his line, then I got a bite. While I was working mine Bud thought his fish slipped off the line. He turned to help me get mine in, but our lines had been crossed.

Anyone who has seen Ghostbusters knows how bad it is when you "cross the beams."

We tried for what seemed like forever to get my fish in, but the lines wouldn't let him get close enough. About six times he almost got smashed by the propeller. Finally, Bud reached out and gaffed him in the head, bringing him aboard... just as his own pull jumped up and down to signal that his first fish was somehow back on the line. (We are not sure if he ever left.) Bud raced over, somehow untangling the lines with the coolness of John Wayne in the OK Corral, and brought fish #2 into the boat. Trying to document all of this on both my Nikon camera and iPhone in the pouring rain at the same time might have added to the overall chaos as well.

AND NOW TO THE VIDEO:

In all we caught our limit of 8 fish while getting a dozen other bites (which we of course "let go" in the course of playing with them on our lines.) My largest fish would weigh in just over 12 pounds, while Bud landed a big 13.25 pounder. This weight put Bud among the leaders in the contest.

Eight was our limit

Behind the scenes video footage of the 2009 Chum Massacre

Time to be measured...

Mine weighs in at just over 12 pounds... not bad for a rookie!

Bud shows off our top two fish.

I can't say enough what a unique experience it was to be fishing like a pro. I highly recommend fishing like this to everyone... especially if during the 2006 census you checked the box for "male." Thank you Bud for being a great host - you are the real pro!

~ J. Twice