Alaskan Fishermen Nervously Prepare for Next Salmon Run

This small southwest Alaska city sits on the edge of one of the world’s greatest collections of protein, the annual return of millions of sockeye salmon.

This winter, the food bank’s shelves are nearly bare.

The contradiction is the result of a surprisingly weak salmon harvest last summer, when just half of the 25 million sockeye expected actually showed up to spawn in the creeks and rivers that feed into Bristol Bay and the Bering Sea. It also cut the value of the $150-million fishery in half.

A salmon shortage in Dillingham is like a beef shortage in Amarillo: Perhaps not unheard of, but rare enough to send a deep shock through the local economy and into the villages beyond.

“It’s been awful quiet around town. There’s just not many people around,” said Joe McGill, who has fished in Bristol Bay for 50 years. “They’re not out, they’re not spending money.”

This time of year the boats that collect the Bristol Bay harvest are up on blocks, sitting in rows in boatyards, waiting for the springtime repairs that will get them on the water again.

McGill says he’s not worried that local fishermen will quit the business after last summer’s profitless effort.

“I think they’ll be out fixing their boats ahead of time, patching things and whatnot,” he said. “So many fellas are overcapitalized, they put everything they have into it, so I don’t know how they can afford not to take a chance.”

There’s some hope for this summer. The state Department of Fish and Game predicts a sockeye harvest of 20 million, but prices are low, and with Japan’s economy still in recession, demand isn’t likely to boom anytime soon.

More important, what’s predicted for July isn’t putting food on tables in March. But the food bank is.

“Our business has just about doubled this winter,” said Roy Hiratsuka, manager of the Bristol Bay Native Assn. Food Bank. “People are turning to subsistence.”

The food bank is a converted church across the street from Dillingham’s grocery store. Some shelves were bare in early February, while others held canisters of shortening, cereal and apple juice.

Fishermen in the villages can kill moose, caribou and beaver, but there’s no subsistence hunt for bags of flour or other staples.

“Our food supply is real low. As soon as the food comes in here, it goes out.

“It was really hard around the holidays. That’s when we tried to serve every family, to make sure everyone had a turkey or a ham,” Hiratsuka said from his wheelchair, the result of a three-wheeler accident a decade ago.

In the villages, where the salmon harvest is important both as a source of cash and food, the poor return has been especially hard.

“We ended up with very little to pay for food and gas,” said Joe Alexie, a fisherman in Tuluksak, a village on the Kuskokwim River north of Bristol Bay.

“I have to end up asking for assistance, and watch others in Tuluksak who have to do the same thing, especially people with families,” he told the Tundra Drums newspaper. “Winter’s almost over and we’re still waiting for disaster relief. We’re still trying to meet our daily needs.”

State and federal aid is coming to the region, but it’s not the usual disaster relief.

The federal government rejected a request for unemployment assistance in January, but the Commerce Department and the state have agreed to a $9-million package of community development grants, fisheries research and some individual loans.

So far, Dillingham, a city of about 2,200, hasn’t seen a spate of crime or domestic violence, something that might be expected with sudden tough times.

That may be because the people who live here and make their living on the whims of Mother Nature are used to sudden reversals.

McGill, who also has served as Dillingham’s mayor and represented the city in the Alaska Legislature, recalls worse salmon runs. One year in the early 1970s, “Bristol Bay was all but closed. The total catch was 1.7 million,” he said.

Still, 1997 may well be remembered because the crash was so unexpected.

Joan Ribich, the mental health director for the Bristol Bay Area Health Corp., credits forethought for avoiding some of the problems other poor years have created.

“I think the community is dealing with it better this time around,” Ribich said. “There’s a lot of upfront prevention like the food bank and loans for fuel purchases.”

She’s not convinced the worst is behind the city, however.

“April is one of our worst months,” she said. “People are tired of winter, their money’s run out, and they’re eager to get out and get fishing.”