The Last Salmon15

In photos: The fight for the Yukon River’s last salmon

For two decades, the Yukon River’s once-vital salmon runs declined while American and Canadian governments bickered over who was entitled to the last catch. While the governments argued over catchment numbers, the individual First Nations who live along the river, focused on salmon for future generations, began taking salmon conservation into their own hands.

The Yukon River, one of the largest and longest in the world, begins on the U.S. side of the border in the Bering Sea. The Yukon River salmon, that mostly spawn in Canada, must swim against the current for up to 3,000 kilometres before reaching their spawning grounds. That cross-border journey has caused tensions, especially around the harvesting of chinook salmon (known as king salmon in Alaska) with runs half their historic size. The low numbers have been attributed to harvesting, man-made barriers such as the Whitehorse hydroelectric dam, degraded spawning grounds due to placer mining, climate change and unintended by-catch of salmon by ocean going commercial vessels at the mouth of the river.

In 2017 the Alaska Department of Fish and Game briefly opened up its Chinook salmon fishery, citing the strongest returns since 2005, before quickly shutting it down in the face of opposition from First Nations and Native fishermen on both sides of the border. Now, Indigenous peoples are taking management into their own hands, coming up with agreements to deal with the jurisdictional squabbles and implementing voluntary fishing restrictions within their communities.

All photos by Peter Mather.

We’ve got big plans for 2024
Seeking out climate solutions, big and small. Investigating the influence of oil and gas lobbyists. Holding leaders accountable for protecting the natural world.

The Narwhal’s reporting team is busy unearthing important environmental stories you won’t read about anywhere else in Canada. And we’ll publish it all without corporate backers, ads or a paywall.

How? Because of the support of a tiny fraction of readers like you who make our independent, investigative journalism free for all to read.

Will you join more than 6,000 members helping us pull off critical reporting this year?
We’ve got big plans for 2024
Seeking out climate solutions, big and small. Investigating the influence of oil and gas lobbyists. Holding leaders accountable for protecting the natural world.

The Narwhal’s reporting team is busy unearthing important environmental stories you won’t read about anywhere else in Canada. And we’ll publish it all without corporate backers, ads or a paywall.

How? Because of the support of a tiny fraction of readers like you who make our independent, investigative journalism free for all to read.

Will you join more than 6,000 members helping us pull off critical reporting this year?

Thousands of members make The Narwhal’s independent journalism possible. Will you help power our work in 2024?
Will you help power our journalism in 2024?
That means our newsletter has become the most important way we connect with Narwhal readers like you. Will you join the nearly 90,000 subscribers getting a weekly dose of in-depth climate reporting?
A line chart in green font colour with the title "Our Facebook traffic has cratered." Chart shows about 750,000 users via Facebook in 2019, 1.2M users in 2020, 500,000 users in 2021, 250,000 users in 2022, 100,000 users in 2023.
Readers used to find us on Facebook. Now we’re blocked
That means our newsletter has become the most important way we connect with Narwhal readers like you. Will you join the nearly 90,000 subscribers getting a weekly dose of in-depth climate reporting?
A line chart in green font colour with the title "Our Facebook traffic has cratered." Chart shows about 750,000 users via Facebook in 2019, 1.2M users in 2020, 500,000 users in 2021, 250,000 users in 2022, 100,000 users in 2023.
Readers used to find us on Facebook. Now we’re blocked
Overlay Image