To Bay, or Not to Bay
I love Bristol Bay. I’ve been going since I was sixteen, and haven’t missed a season yet. If I go this June it would be my 14th (my lucky number). Last year was my first as skipper and owner. I considered it my first season as skipper, rather than my 13th total, to avoid the superstitious connotations. As a fellow fisherman said to me, “I’m not superstitious, but I’m a little stitious.”
I backed into the net two or three times, once bad enough that I picked three intact fish through the clean-out before cutting the rest of the mess out. We broke some welds, causing the drum to fall off the frame, but we got hauled out in Dillingham got it fixed it overnight. After spending most of the season in the Nush’, I hallucinated hundreds of pink buoy balls adrift in the sky, but I never fell asleep at the wheel. It was the best season yet.
Every season has been weird in some way, but with the coronavirus,this upcoming one is shaping up to be the weirdest. I’m in debt for the boat, permit, and a house in Colorado, and hope to have another successful cycle of selling fish and making payments. That said, the two things I love most about Bristol Bay are the people and the place itself.
If I can’t go because of COVID-19 restrictions, I’ll tighten my belt (financially), and I think I’ll still be able to make my payments. I know there are people worse off who might lose their boats or houses, or both. Most heartbreaking to me is the idea that some people will have to sell out and never get to go back to the Bay.
Still, that is not the worst case scenario. The Spanish Flu killed 40% of the local adult population when it hit the Bristol Bay region, which was a year after affecting almost everywhere else in the world. I know that the Spanish Flu was much more deadly than COVID-19, and that was then, and this is now, but even now there are only a handful of hospital beds in the region. What if sick people have to start flying out to Anchorage on the same planes that are turning around and flying fishing and processing crews back to King Salmon and Dillingham? I don’t want to be a part of that.
The people who live in Bristol Bay year-round have the most to lose, way more than us snowbirds fretting over our bank accounts. The local population is generally more elderly, and less healthy than the seasonal workforce. Not to diminish the death of any elder, but the native elders in Bristol bay possess especially irreplaceable knowledge. They are repositories of language, legends, and local knowledge, all of which is already on the run from globalization and modernization. Not to mention the fact that they have serious sway when it comes to fighting other threats to the Bay, like the proposed Pebble Mine.
COVID-19 doesn’t pose a threat to the wild scenery of the Bay or the sustainability of the salmon run. The Pebble Mine is a threat, the pandemic is not. Tim Sands, a biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, who manages the west side of the Bay, has said that over-escaping by even three or four times the goal will not be bad for the run in the long-term, so long as we don’t over-escape too many seasons in a row.
But, if I can go to Bristol Bay this season, I will. I know there are serious plans being made, from testing everyone for COVID-19 between all connecting flights, to quarantining everyone for two weeks in Anchorage hotels before continuing to the Bay, to having runners for parts and food while we’re in the boatyard, to (most unimaginable to me) not being allowed to raft up with other boats for the entire season, except in emergencies. I hope to go, and if so, I aim to follow all the new policies as best I can.
Irreplaceable people and cultures are at risk. These are priceless. The Bay isn’t going anywhere, and the sockeye will survive if we let them. If I’ve learned anything from fishing, it’s how to not take misfortune personally, and that things will be different soon. So, hold fast, and keep a weather eye open. We’re all in the same boat.