What happens when salmon don’t return?
Regional warming in the Arctic is exacerbating the decline of Yukon River Chinook Salmon
By Nicole Pepper and Ellis Goud
To Brooke Woods, fish is everything. Living just outside the Koyukon village of Rampart, Alaska – one of 50 small fishing communities along the Yukon River – her daily childhood routine involved waking up in the log cabin her family built, walking to school every day, and most importantly, going to fish camp right outside of her home.
Fish camp is both a location and a tradition. During the summer, families travel to riverside camps to harvest and process fish for the long winters, as well as connect with community and large extended families. Here on the Yukon River, the camps line the banks of the world’s longest salmon migration. The river and its tributaries pass through countless Alaska Native communities across the region, providing a key location to fish throughout the summer.
“Growing up, salmon, fish camp, and family were such important parts of our livelihoods and kinship,” Woods says. “My mom’s siblings – she was one of eleven – would all come to Rampart from surrounding communities where they lived, including my grandma. And we would all go to fish camp, which is a really important place outside of our homes.”
Today, Woods is the Climate Adaptation Specialist at Woodwell Climate Research Center, where she integrates Indigenous Knowledge to shape equitable and science-backed policy in the Arctic. But now, she can’t fish for salmon in the river she grew up near. And neither can anyone else.
Salmon as subsistence
Last year, the Alaska Department of Fish and Game and Fisheries and Oceans Canada signed an agreement suspending the harvest of Chinook salmon for seven years – the length of their life cycle – in response to declining population numbers. A combination of mortality from bycatch and environmental factors from climate change has exacerbated their decline.
Chinook salmon, also known as king salmon, are one of the main salmon species in the Yukon River. They are the largest, most nutritious, and most valued fish in Alaska Native culture. Over the past few years, their numbers across the state have fallen below the long-term average. Historically, 375,000 salmon passed through the Yukon River Drainage every year. Last year, there were only 65,000.
The ban on Chinook harvesting is devastating for Alaska Native communities because salmon, among other fish, make up a large part of their traditional diet. Rich in protein, omega-3 fatty acids, and essential vitamins, salmon has served as a primary food source for thousands of years.
Subsistence provides food security in rural Alaska and is necessary for community health. Due to remoteness, short growing seasons, and high transportation costs of food, fresh produce is scarce. Without access to salmon, Alaska Native communities often have to replace this crucial protein with expensive commercial foods that are lower in quality and nutrition.
Beyond nutritional and economic benefits, salmon is also a vital part of Alaska Native culture. Knowledge of salmon harvesting is passed down through generations, and the sharing and receiving of salmon is critical to preserving traditional ways of life. It is also a way for communities to connect with the land.
“Salmon is such an important part of who we are as Indigenous people,” Woods explains. “I feel like I’m very strong in my culture because of salmon.”
But as salmon populations decline and harvesting halts, Alaska Native communities lose access to one of the most vital fish species in their diet and culture.
“Our foods, they keep us well in so many different ways,” Woods says. “And when that’s taken away from you, it’s hard to find healthy ways to get through.”
The journey across the Yukon River
Every June, Alaska Native communities wait in anticipation for the salmon to arrive.
Yukon River Chinook salmon begin their lives in freshwater spawning grounds and spend up to a year growing into juveniles, also known as smolts. After going through smoltification, they migrate into the ocean and spend anywhere from one to six years maturing and growing into adults. When they are ready to reproduce, salmon migrate from the Bering Sea back to their spawning grounds across the Yukon River basin.
As adult Chinook salmon make the journey upstream to spawn, some migrate as much as 2,000 miles. Starting in the summer, typically from June to September, the salmon pass through the Yukon in different groups called runs.
To George Yaska, the Indigenous Knowledge Liaison for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in Alaska, the summer season passes in phases of fish runs. Yaska grew up in Huslia and lived off of fish on the Koyukuk River, a tributary that flows downstream into the Yukon.
“The very first salmon that show up are the fish that we want to start cutting,” Yaska says. “They’re the freshest, the strongest, the biggest, and the fattest.”
Chinook and chum (dog) salmon migrate through the Yukon first, followed by coho (silver) salmon. While many people travel to the riverside to fish, Yaska says Alaska Native fishers only take what they need.
“If we did well early, we would stop [fishing],” Yaska says. “There were lots of people above us. The fish haven’t got to them yet, and we have to let them fish.”
But year after year, less and less salmon are passing through the Yukon. Growing up, Yaska’s family would take 40 to 50 fish to keep them fed through the winter. In the 90s, it was 10 to 20. And this year, it’s zero.
Warming temperatures are killing salmon
Science indicates that warming water temperatures are a major contributor to low salmon returns, NOAA Fisheries says. As climate change advances, rivers in higher latitudes, like the Yukon River, are warming nearly twice as fast as rivers in temperate areas. In recent years, Alaska has recorded multiple record-breaking heatwaves – including this summer. The state released its first heat advisory ever in June.
In outer regions around Fairbanks, temperatures above 75 degrees trigger a heat advisory. In the interior, it’s 85 degrees. In June, temperatures were expected to reach the mid-80s.
While these temperatures may not appear dangerous, they can cause extreme ecological changes in the Arctic, including increased wildfires, permafrost thaw, soil erosion, and most important for salmon, ocean and stream warming.
Increased water temperatures impact salmon health at every stage in their life, especially during their migration period. They become stressed in warmer water, forcing them to burn energy faster and swim slower. Salmon also become more susceptible to disease.
Daily maximum stream temperatures have risen over 10 degrees above the optimal spawning temperature of 5 degrees Celsius this summer. In July, Yukon River Drainage’s pilot station – the first station in the watershed that all salmon must pass through to migrate upstream – exceeded the critical temperature threshold of 64.4 degrees Fahrenheit (18 degrees Celsius) nine days in a row. Once a stream’s temperature passes this temperature limit, fish can lose their ability to function.
In the Salcha Station, located in the middle of the Yukon River Drainage, daily maximum stream temperatures were higher than the maximum optimal spawning temperature of 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12.8 degrees Celsius) throughout the majority of the summer. The Salcha Station is historically one of the most abundant spawning grounds for Chinook salmon.
The management crisis
Issues around commercial harvesting have also played a role in declining salmon runs in Alaska. In the mid-90s, the majority of Chinook salmon in the Yukon were overharvested by commercial fishermen several years in a row. In 1995, the first 10-mile stretch of the Yukon River after the Bering Sea (also known as Y-1) was the site of a large-scale overharvesting event.
“Eight hundred commercial fishermen fished for 9 and a half or 10 and a half inch fish, which is huge,” Yaska says. “In a 24-hour opening, they caught 147,000 kings.”
Because there were so many taken at once, salmon have not been able to rebound to their initial population numbers.
“Ever since then, the run has been demolished,” Yaska says.
Bycatch at sea also poses a threat to salmon populations. Trawlers catching pollock, a common fish in the Bering Sea, are the main source of salmon bycatch. When salmon are unintentionally caught by large industrial trawlers, the fish often die from stress, injury, or suffocation.
In 2011, the NPFMC implemented a Chinook salmon bycatch limit in response to unusually high bycatch numbers – including a peak of 122,000 caught in 2007. Amendment 91 designed a system to manage Chinook salmon bycatch in the Bering Sea pollock fishery by setting two caps on the number of salmon that could be incidentally caught, with a high limit of 60,000 and a low limit of 47,591 depending on the overall size of the salmon runs that year.
Amendment 110, also called the Three-River Index, was developed shortly after Amendment 91 to further monitor and protect Chinook salmon populations. If the number of salmon returning to the Kuskokwim, Unalakleet, and Upper Yukon River systems is less than 250,000 fish, the cap is reduced to a high limit of 45,000 and a low limit of 33,318.
To measure bycatch, every pollock vessel in the Bering Sea must carry at least one certified observer to monitor, identify, and count salmon. Additionally, every vessel has an Electronic Monitoring system and cameras to record the vessel’s catch.
But even with current management actions, salmon populations are still struggling. As stream temperatures increase, salmon are under possibly lethal conditions during the summer months of migration. Decreasing bycatch numbers in the Bering Sea before salmon migrate through the Yukon River gives the population the best chance of dealing with today’s climate stressors.
“All the other issues that are now in play – temperatures, ocean conditions, ecosystem problems due to trawling out in the Bering Sea – all of those things are now having an impact when they didn’t before,” Yaska says.
Taking community action
When fewer salmon return to the Yukon River, tribes, communities, and families suffer. As climate warming and bycatch decimate salmon populations, Alaska Native communities believe the best course of action towards salmon success is Indigenous-informed management practices, not banning subsistence.
“Shutting down subsistence in rivers – shutting down tribes – is not the solution,” Woods says. “Tribes are not the reason we are seeing the salmon collapse. We have traditional values of only taking what you need.”
Woods has spent almost 10 years in the advocacy sphere, where she and Alaska Native community members have worked to uplift tribal sovereignty in governance and management. Although the work is exhausting, Woods has seen progress and solidarity across the region.
“Tribes and Alaska Native organizations are exhausting all avenues to ensure that our salmon survive and that traditional practices, or subsistence, is provided,” Woods says.
When Alaska Native community members are represented in government bodies like the Alaska Board of Fisheries, management practices can focus on encouraging representative and equitable decision making while protecting both salmon and subsistence.
Yaska, who works with tribes on both the Yukon and Kuskokwim Rivers through the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, ensures the integration of Alaska Native knowledge into conservation efforts. By giving community members a seat at the table, their knowledge and way of life can be preserved. And as Alaska Native culture and tradition is protected, so are the salmon that communities rely on.
“Because salmon have no voice, we have to try to speak for them,” Yaska says.
