BETHEL — Kuskokwim River ice went out earlier than ever, a tundra fire broke out Tuesday and mosquitoes already are swarming. Residents are gearing up for summer, which up and down the Kuskokwim usually means salmon.
State salmon managers warn they again expect king salmon runs to be lower than average and, for the third year in a row, are preparing to shut down targeted fishing for kings at the start of the season. The Alaska Board of Fisheries in January ordered that no one can use bigger nets or other gear aimed at king, or chinook, salmon until June 12, allowing the early part of the run to move up the Kuskokwim. An advisory group says not even smaller whitefish setnets, anchored to the river bottom, should be allowed during the early king pulse.
Yet while state fish managers say they are proceeding with caution, the state plan for managing this year's run is being examined with skepticism and worry by some on the river, where residents depend on salmon of one kind or another to get them through winter.
It's a complicated ecosystem with an equally complex management structure involving state, federal and tribal governments, as well as layers of advisory groups including the ultra-active Kuskokwim River Salmon Management Working Group and a new tribal group. The state has authority over salmon runs — unless federal managers intervene to protect subsistence rights for rural residents.
172,000 returning kings?
The state is testing the use of sonar to count fish moving up the Kuskokwim, but isn't yet using that data on a river where fish can be hidden in deep channels.
Instead, it uses a mathematical formula based in part on counts at weirs and aerial surveys of as many as 20 tributaries. That model also incorporates the numbers of fish harvested and those caught in state test fisheries to gauge the run.
Using observations from 11 of those salmon-producing waterways, the state estimated 172,000 king salmon returned to the Kuskokwim last year. The state settled on that figure within a wide range of 129,000 to 229,000 chinook.
Another source of information, a state salmon-tagging study, comes up with a figure of 124,000 kings – about 50,000 fewer fish than the mathematical model. In the "mark-recapture" study, now in its third and final year, the fish are tagged downriver, then tracked as they swim upriver or are caught.
The difference shows "how difficult it is to estimate the number of king salmon that come back to the entire Kuskokwim," said Zach Liller, state research biologist for the Kuskokwim.
State-run estimates going back to 1976 indicate the average chinook return topped 230,000 and more than 300,000 came back to the Kuskokwim nine times. Once, in 1981, the number approached 400,000. But a big chinook decline started in 2010.
The study that produced the lower number for 2015 is still in process, but he said methods conclude the same thing: Last year's king return was below average, yet up from 2014. And in both 2014 and 2015, with fishing restricted, the goal for spawning numbers was met.
Abundance of males
With no way to know for sure what is swimming under the surface, some residents are worried the state overestimated last year's number and may allow too many salmon to be caught this year.
Federal managers, for instance, are urging more caution than the state heading into this summer's fishing season.
The state goal for what biologists call escapement — the number of fish that reach spawning grounds to help ensure strong future runs — is between 65,000 and 120,000 Kuskokwim kings. Biologists estimated 155,000 chinook made it to spawning grounds last year, a number seen in years of healthy runs.
That may sound like victory after a yearslong effort to rebuild crashed king populations, but the reality may be more mixed.
Three-fourths of the surviving salmon were males, and mainly young males, Liller, the research biologist, said. So their contribution to future runs is lower than if there were more females, or greater numbers of more mature fish.
The large proportion of young males raises concerns about "the quality of escapement," said Dave Cannon, a Kuskokwim working group member and fish biologist who lives upriver from Bethel in Aniak.
"If you're thinking just females, that means that only about 43,000 made it back to the entire Kuskokwim," Cannon said at a recent working group meeting. "So I think it just puts some things in perspective there, a little bit differently."
Liller says as runs rebuild, it is common to see disproportionate numbers of young males. The ratios should even out going forward, he said.
2013 was really bad year
The Kuskokwim River working group is an advisory panel that meets weekly with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game during the salmon season. At the April 20 meeting, members urged the state to ensure big numbers make it through for spawning this year.
Instead of a broad goal of 65,000 to 120,000 kings, the state should be aiming for the upper end, or at least 100,000 reaching spawning tributaries, the group advised. The working group also recommended all nets come out of the water on May 20 for most of the river and any fishing between then and June 12 be at the discretion of state, federal and tribal managers.
State forecasts for Kuskokwim kings were flat-out wrong in 2010, 2011 and 2013, reason enough to be skeptical of rosy numbers for 2016, said LaMont Albertson, a retired educator and former rainbow trout guide who lives part-time in Aniak.
"I just don't trust the state, and I've been working with them for years now," Albertson said. He said he puts his faith in the work of federal managers and biologists, who give priority to rural residents, who need fish to survive. He also questions why Fish and Game's commercial fisheries division manages the Kuskokwim region since most of the fish are harvested for subsistence. The state shut down the river's commercial king fishery back in 1987. Now locals in skiffs target silvers during limited commercial openings late in the season, long after kings have moved through.
The federal government relies on the state formula, or model, to assess run size, but comes up with its own recommendations, said Ray Born, manager of the Bethel-based Yukon Delta National Wildlife Refuge.
Three years ago, the state projected a healthy return of 160,000 to 240,000 Kuskokwim kings. That didn't happen. An estimated 94,000 returned and only about half made it to spawning grounds, the lowest number on record.
"We do not want to see 2013 again," said Greg Roczicka, natural resources director for Orutsararmiut Native Council, Bethel's tribe, and a member of both the working group and a newly formed tribal fish group.
The state's subsistence division dates to 1978 but it was not set up to manage fishing, and doesn't have the authority to do so, said Lisa Olson, its deputy director.
"Our duties are really to research and advise the boards, the agencies and the department, on what is subsistence, who are subsistence users, what methods are appropriate," Olson said.
Residents cautious too
Bev Hoffman, a longtime working group member, Bethel tribal member and subsistence fisherman, underscored the reason so many fish reached spawning grounds last year was because targeted fishing for kings was shut down during much of the season. Federal managers last June even ordered setnets out of the river after learning village residents were setting them in channels where kings usually run, rather than in traditional whitefish spots.
Residents sacrificed to save the fish, she said.
"It just kind of hit me really hard, looking at this over the last couple of days, that if we did not have restrictions in place … and we went out and fished like usual that we would not have made the lower end of escapement," Hoffman said.
Hoffman has been urging conservation for years. Others on the river are coming around. Since 2014, say both residents and fish managers, the call has shifted from "when can we fish" to "save our fish," a remarkable transition in such a short time.
Two summers ago, Fritz Charles, a subsistence fisherman originally from Tuntutuliak who has long lived in Bethel, warned his colleagues on the Kuskokwim working group he was hearing reports of pent-up desire for fish that was so strong, violence might erupt if people couldn't get their nets in the water. But now people seem to be coming to terms with fewer kings and more reliance on other types of salmon and fish.
"The word is getting out," Charles, a working group co-chairman, said. "They are starting to realize we are trying to do the right thing as an advisory board, with the feds and the state."
The state estimates about 16,000 Kuskokwim kings were caught last year, some of them through a community permit system set up when federal managers took over a big stretch of river to allow subsistence fishing.
Compare that to when Kuskokwim kings were plentiful. Residents took an average of 80,000 a year for subsistence, the biggest king subsistence harvest in the state.
Inter-Tribal Fish Commission
The tribe for the village of Akiak, upriver from Bethel, already is urging the Federal Subsistence Board to intervene to ensure only rural residents -- not newcomers or visitors -- get any chinook, and to allocate kings among villages. For parts of the last two salmon seasons, federal managers took over a large stretch of the Kuskokwim in the refuge. That may happen again this year to ensure that during the closures rural residents are able to put out nets for whitefish and other species in lakes, ponds and tributaries that don't draw salmon, said Born, who will serve as the federal government's in-season salmon manager.
Managers – and residents – are trying to rebuild a king population that dropped almost by half in 2010 to about 119,000 then fell even more the next two years. But since 2014, the trend has been up.
State and federal managers say they intend to work closely together. A new player is the federally designated Kuskokwim Inter-Tribal Fish Commission, which started last year. It is more than an adviser — it's a collaborator, said Born, of the Yukon refuge. And the tribal members are asking to protect fish, too.
Aaron Poetter, state Kuskokwim-area management biologist, said precaution is warranted.
"We all know what happened in the past. We all know our runs are coming back," he told the working group recently.
Managers must wait until the salmon show up to decide when people can target them, he said.
"Within the realm of possibilities, sure, we could meet all of our objectives and goals and actually get some fish on the rack. Man, wouldn't that be fantastic."