BETHEL, Alaska (AP) — Fish camps still dot the banks of the broad Kuskokwim River in southwestern Alaska. Wooden huts and tarped shelters stand beside drying racks draped with bright red strips of salmon, which Alaska Native families have harvested for generations and preserved for the bitter winters ahead.
But the once-abundant salmon populations have declined so sharply in recent years that authorities have severely restricted subsistence fishing on Alaska’s second-longest river. They’ve imposed even tighter restrictions on the longer Yukon River to the north.
Various factors are blamed for the salmon collapse, from climate change to commercial fishing practices. What’s clear is the impact is not just on food but on long-standing rituals — fish camps where elders transmit skills and stories to younger generations while bonding over a sacred connection to the land.
“Our families are together for that single-minded purpose of providing for our survival,” said Gloria Simeon, a Yup’ik resident of Bethel. “It’s the college of fish camp.”
So when Alaska Natives debate proposals to drill, mine or otherwise develop the landscape of the nation’s largest state, it involves more than an environmental or economic question. It’s also a spiritual and cultural one.
“We have a special spiritual, religious relationship to our river and our land,” said Simeon, standing outside her backyard smokehouse where she uses birch-bark kindling and cottonwood logs to preserve this year’s salmon catch. “Our people have been stewards of this land for millennia, and we’ve taken that relationship seriously.”
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