Image: Copper River Prince William Sound Marketing Association
Vincent Bordenave, a science and environment journalist for France’s Le Figaro newspaper, visited Alaska in May to experience the start of the salmon season. His resulting article paints a vivid picture of the state and its wild salmon fishing industry.
One by one, the fishing boats return to the port. The sea lions, mostly lounging on their backs in the icy water, watch them pass without seeming disturbed. It’s late in the evening, but the sun is still high. It breaks through the clouds, lighting up the snow-capped mountains from which these fishing boats emerge. After the first isolated boat, a whole procession invades the Cordova inlet on the edge of Prince William Sound in the Gulf of Alaska. Cordova is a port with 2,000 inhabitants in winter when darkness lasts more than 20 hours a day, increasing to 3,000 in spring when daylight begins to prevail. Almost everyone lives solely for wild salmon, whose populations remain particularly fragile. Scientists here work with all stakeholders to ensure sustainable fishing and maintain the wild fish populations.
At the start of spring, there’s still a chill in the air. However, the sun burns the skin, giving the deceptive impression of warmth. It is ideal weather for the start of the salmon fishing season. This Thursday marked the first twelve-hour window offered to the approximately 536 salmon fishermen officially registered with the city’s Department of Fish and Game. Of this total, only 400 to 450 will take to the sea this year. “The others, discouraged by fuel prices or by work that needs to be done on the boats, will pass,” says Kesley Appleton, head of the Cordova Fishermen’s Union.
Many sailors only come here in spring when the season starts. They go back to spend the winter in milder regions further south. This is the case for Kevin, who has been fishing here for more than ten years. He lives in a caravan in winter and roams between Arizona, California, and Nevada. Thea Thomas, 64 years old, has been fishing here for thirty-four years and spends the winter in Mexico. Admittedly, winters in Cordova are long. Cut off from the world, there isn’t a road serving the city. The tiny airport (with its three flights a day) connects the port town with Anchorage and its 300,000 inhabitants, located 250 kilometers away, in an hour. Otherwise, the only other option is to cross the bay by ferry on a 7-hour trip to Whittier, a small port inhabited by 270 people who almost all live in one building. Once onboard, the crossing is long, but whales, orcas, and dolphins keep you company. The road that leads to Anchorage from Whittier is also spectacular. It notably goes through a four-meter-wide tunnel that looks like it has been dug into the mountain by hand, which is shared alternately by trains and cars.
A few hours before setting sail, Thea, who arrived the day before by ferry, was not expecting a miracle. “If I can bring back fifty salmon, I’ll be happy.” In a couple of weeks, she can expect to catch several hundred per trip, and the salmon will sell at a much lower price than today.
“The first few days, prices are at their highest,” she explains. “Even if the catch is less abundant, the high demand compensates. All the restaurants are just waiting for this: the arrival of the first wild Alaska salmon.” Over the three to four months that the season lasts, she can hope to make $70,000.
In Alaska, salmon farming is forbidden. Only wild fish can be caught and sold. In 2023, nearly 53 million were caught in this way in Prince William Sound. Yet salmon is an endangered species. Its way of life makes it particularly vulnerable. In neighboring Canada, commercial salmon fishing has been completely banned in the Yukon River since 2006, and recreational salmon fishing has been banned since 2011. Salmon is one of the few fish that can thrive in freshwater and saltwater. Salmon hatch in rivers in cold waters fed by glaciers and develop there. Depending on the species and the water temperature, they can stay in freshwater for more than 18 months. Then, before reaching adulthood, the young salmon follow the current and venture into the ocean for a period that generally lasts one to three years. They arrive here via the Copper River, which flows into the Gulf of Alaska about forty kilometers east of Cordova.
Protection of Wild Stocks
In spring, the salmon return to their river of origin to spawn. The females lay eggs in the gravel, which are then fertilized by the males. During their return upstream, the salmon stop feeding and die after reproduction. Fishermen take advantage of this moment to position themselves along the Copper River Delta, one of the largest in North America, where their location is highly regulated. “If we let the fishermen fish wherever they want, the entire fish population could quickly disappear,” explains Jeremy Botz, a biologist at the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. “Our goal is to protect the wild stock. We work to ensure that every year when the salmon start their return upstream, we have a sufficient number to guarantee that many young salmon hatch a few months later. Over the past ten years, populations have been stable. We regularly meet our goals for the five species.”
This week, the approximately 400 fishermen of Cordova are allowed two 24-hour trips, 6 hours to reach the zone, and 12 hours of fishing and to return to the port. Depending on the stocks, the number of trips can increase or decrease as the season progresses. In 2020, barely a week after the opening, fishing was suspended due to a lack of fish. A sonar system monitors the flow daily, supplemented by aerial surveillance. “We count every fish that enters and leaves our lakes and rivers,” says Jeremy Botz. “Our challenge is to ensure that the fishing, whether for subsistence, recreational, or commercial purposes, does not threaten the sustainability of the region’s fish populations.”
From the sky, you can see the boats with their gillnets in a straight line or “purse seining” by encircling the fish in this vast area where freshwater currents meet saltwater. NGOs criticize these techniques because they “generate many accidental catches of various endangered species such as sea turtles, seabirds, rays, and sharks. Many young fish of other economically important species are captured and discarded, with low chances of survival,” according to WWF. Fishermen and biologists from the fisheries department ensure that they count very few accidental catches in these very cold and sparsely populated waters.
Indeed, maintaining sufficient fish stocks is every stakeholder’s goal. “No one wants to catch the last salmon,” says Kesley Appleton. Scientists, fishermen, and institutions work together to ensure the least destructive fishing possible. Walking through the Alaska Science Center premises, you regularly come across fishermen who are there to speak to the researchers. And when the boats return, scientists are there to look at the day’s catch.
Despite this system that aims to protect the fish, Alaskan salmon remain vulnerable. Climate change and warming waters disrupt the biological cycles that provide fish with their food. Year after year, scientists and fishermen observe the shrinking of the salmon. The exact causes of this phenomenon remain open to debate, but the scarcity of resources is one of the hypotheses being studied. “If they become too thin, they will no longer have the strength to swim upstream to the spawning sites,” say the fishermen with concern. The proliferation of farms in neighboring waters also weakens wild species. “We increasingly find farmed salmon from other countries, like China, Russia, or even other U.S. states in our nets,” notes Kevin. “Since the start of the war in Ukraine, the market has become increasingly competitive, and Russia has intensified its production. These fish are not the same quality as the wild ones. They can carry parasites and contaminate our catch.”
While fish farms are banned, Alaska has developed a hatchery system for a particular species, pink salmon, for recreational fishing. From October to May, eggs are collected and fertilized in incubators. The young salmon are then released into freshwater, descend to the sea, and will be fished in the “bays”, fishing zones known as “terminals”, which are near the hatcheries where they return. Over 1 billion such fish are released each year into Alaskan waters. This hatchery program is, according to local authorities, “robust and healthy, designed to minimize interactions with wild stocks and improve fishing.”
This is, nonetheless, a highly sensitive issue. Studies conducted by the Alaska Department of Fish and Game’s hatchery research program show that wild populations and those from the hatcheries sometimes mix. “In theory, hatchery fish should swim upstream to natural spawning grounds,” explains Peter Rand, a biologist at the Prince William Sound Science Center. “They follow the scents of their natal stream. This theoretically prevents crossbreeding and ensures separation between wild and hatchery populations.” However, a very small percentage of salmon from the hatcheries contradicts this rule and mixes with the wild fish flow. Out of the billion juveniles produced each year across Alaska, this small percentage represents a significant number. “Our studies have shown that when pink salmon from hatcheries reproduce in the natural waterways of Prince William Sound, their offspring are half as likely to survive compared to those of wild origin,” continues the expert.
Numerous Reactions
For scientists, understanding the impact of this process on the long-term sustainability of these wild waterways must be a priority. These findings have caused various reactions in the local fishing community. Alysha Cypher, a biologist at the research center, recalls, “Scientists have been accused of trying to end fishing. Our goal is to understand the real impact of these hatcheries and ensure that the wild flow remains strong to allow fishing to continue.”
There is no hatchery on the Copper River. Therefore, the likelihood of Thea and Kevin catching one of these hybrid fish is virtually zero. Back at the port, they are tired but happy. Weighing the fish confirms that the catch was good and exceeded their expectations. And as a bonus, the fish are large. “Larger than in recent years,” confirm the handlers who come to collect them at the foot of the packaging plant. The fish are cleaned and gutted and their heads are removed on the assembly line. There’s no need to freeze this first batch. The salmon will leave by plane that evening. Less than 24 hours later, they will be sold in the aisles of Seattle’s fish market, some 2,000 kilometers away, for $40 a pound for pink salmon and nearly double that amount for king salmon.
This piece is a translation of an article published by Le Figaro on 12 June and is reprinted with the author’s permission.