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Nestled in the remote southeast corner of the Prince William Sound on the southern coast of Alaska lies the Copper River Delta. This massive 17 million-acre watershed, inhabited by only 5,600 people, drains more than 26,000 square miles of Alaskan land. With 150 inches of rainfall a year in the lower Delta, lush rainforest covers the area. The city of Cordova, located in the lower half of the region, is located in a rare sub-artic, coastal temperate rainforest, for the most part undeveloped and untouched by man. It is only accessible by plane or boat. Needless to say, the 31 hours it took me to get there from Cleveland, Ohio landed me in a place with a distinctly different reality.
Although the residents have local phone service and internet connections, no digital services or fiber lines have reached this area. Communications in Cordova are just as much a commodity as food or gas. Small and detached from the rest of the world, this fishing town does not offer an easy or affordable life. Despite being located in oil-rich Alaska, gas costs $4 a gallon and lettuce sells for $3 a pound. The average payroll earnings are lower than in other parts of Alaska, but the cost of living is 35 percent higher than it is in Anchorage, which incidentally is 20 percent higher than in Seattle. Sixteen percent of the year-round residents in Cordova live below the poverty line. More than 90 percent of the full-time residents practice a minimal lifestyle, living off the land and its natural resources. But, what they lack in financial security, the people of Cordova make up for in friendliness and warmth.
To actually take in the breadth and sheer magnitude of this enormous watershed, I viewed it from the air. Breathtaking does not even begin to describe what I saw – mountains towered above and massive glaciers hugged in from the side. This land – a living, breathing Earth in a constant state of change – was so magnificent that I believe it can only be the artistic expression of a higher power.
Aptly named, the river flows with water the color of copper from sediment in the runoff from the spring thaw and the glacier-fed streams and lakes. From the high-mountain headwaters hundreds of miles inland, the Copper River flows south, cutting mile-deep canyons through the snow peaks of the Coastal Chugach Mountains and squeezing between the face of two glaciers, the Childs and Miles, to emerge in the lush sub-artic rainforest of the lower Copper River Delta.
Fisherman Bill Weber with a massive Copper River king salmon. |
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Each May, the Copper River salmon return to their hatching site in the Delta to spawn. Fast, wide and fed by glaciers, the river water is extremely cold, which causes these particular salmon to build up an enormous fat content. The massive amount of sediment in the water affects the fish in both color and taste, and it causes them to have a higher mineral and trace element content than wild salmon from other areas.
After about seven to ten days of swimming up the Copper River, the salmon pass the Million Dollar Bridge, about 30 miles from the mouth of the river, where sonar counters keep track of the number of fish that make the long journey upstream. Only when enough fish have passed this point to ensure successful reproduction for the population, does the state permit the commercial fisherman of Cordova to fish.
The state of Alaska is charged with protecting this fragile ecosystem for its many different users. Yet, the small community of Cordova is totally dependent on the fish harvest, and the community itself is as fragile as the area's ecosystem. At times, the delicate balance seems to be weighed against the local fishing community for a plethora of political reasons. Salmon returns have a natural fluctuation in 30-year spawning cycles. A period of low returns does not leave many fish for the commercial fisherman whose livelihood supports the community, and there are days when salmon fishing is even closed to native locals.
During my visit I was supposed to go on a fishing excursion for salmon, but the sonar count was low. Instead, I was taken on a tour of the Delta fishing grounds. With temps in the high 60s, blue skies and vast horizons expanded around us. I experienced a virtual classroom in one of the world's most pristine watershed sanctuaries. Sea lions serenaded us as they sunned themselves on buoys. A multitude of birds that had made rookeries on the walls of giant boulders added to the cacophony. Hundreds of sea otters floated on their backs, sunning themselves as if relaxing in hammocks, comically resembling a field of humans kicking back.
The sea otters also are protected in this area, and they have come back strong. Their numbers almost made navigating the smaller inlets a hazard that day. They also are voracious eaters of shellfish, particularly crabs, leaving little for the fisherman. Regulating and managing the many different species of protected wildlife is a very delicate and imperfect science. Often, after a species is well protected, it reemerges in vast numbers which can, in turn, negatively impact the balance of the ecosystem.
As well, the local commercial fishermen of Cordova survive a delicate balance on a daily basis. They face two major hurdles in their profession. The first hurdle is two-fold – the occurrence of two major disasters, one natural and the other manmade. In 1964, a devastating and destructive 9.4 earthquake – the largest ever recorded in history – hit the area. This quake raised the elevation of the land an average of six feet, one island rose a full 30 feet. In addition to destroying many streams and spawning beds, the quake decimated the razor-clam population. Although the city once was the razor-clam capital of the world, none exist there now.
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The second disaster was the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill, which occurred slightly north of Cordova. The destruction to the area's food chain was devastating. To this day scientists report that only one species of animal has made a full recovery since then, the bald eagle. Delayed recovery and decades of lingering oil residue have virtually wiped out the herring population, a critical link in this ecosystem's food chain. The social and economic effects that the oil spill has had on Cordova have virtually destroyed its small, tight-knit community. In addition, Exxon has yet to pay the damages that the courts awarded to these people.
The next major hurdle for the local fisherman is the political battle being waged over the fishing rights of “subsistence users.” All Alaskans are legally entitled to fish to sustain their way of life. This law is meant for those who literally live off the land for most of their food supplies. Up river, nine tribal communities, each with about 100 to 300 people, have no economic resources other than what they are able to harvest from the earth. These communities depend upon the river and its resources to live, hence the need for the subsistence fishing regulations.
However, the regulations give all Alaskan residents the same privilege as the native tribes. Consequently, each season a swarm of fishermen from major Alaskan cities come to the upper river and set up small fish-processing plants, taking an enormous amount of fish for their own enterprising purposes. Although regulated, there is very little enforcement in the vast stretches off the upper river Delta, and several of these “subsistence users” are politically powerful in the state, gaining preference over commercial fishermen.
It can be difficult to feel the impact of a region thousands of miles away, but consider this: these problems affect everyone who needs or otherwise enjoys these Copper River salmon resources, even those of us here in Ohio. If the subsistence users from outside the Delta are allowed to continue their overfishing, the larger effect will be seen on the river in three to four years' time when the numbers of fish should be returning, but will not. With fewer fish making their journey up the river to spawn, the commercial fishermen will not be allowed to drop their nets, and then those of us who enjoy this highly prized fish will not be able to buy it at any price.
In addition, a high percentage of the money made by commercial fishermen harvesting this natural resource will not be reinvested into the local economy. Only half of the 500 commercial fishermen possessing permits to harvest the Copper River salmon are full-time residents of Cordova. The other half lives full time in the lower 48 states, working other jobs for the better part of the year. When the season is over at the end of the summer, they head south and take with them all the money they have earned from fishing in Cordova. This problem bears repeating: The economic stability of this area is as fragile as the surrounding natural ecosystem.
The full-time fishermen of Cordova have their work cut out for them if they are to maintain their way of life and protect their watershed from development. They are not against logging, mining or oil and gas drilling, but they do want it done in a way that does not harm the delicate ecosystem that supports their way of life. If they are able to harvest other natural resources, they want the infrastructures for these systems to be eco-friendly and to not disturb the delicate balance of their fishing community. Although this can be accomplished, it is more costly and not supported by the local economy. The people of Cordova need jobs, the country needs natural resources, and the area's history demonstrates that eventually progress and development will happen, but will it unfold in such a way so as to protect one of our last great untouched watersheds on the planet and the ecosystem that supports it?
The resident fishermen of Cordova are organized, and they have good ideas and plans. Unfortunately, they lack both the political power needed to influence legislation and the money required to educate the rest of the country about their predicament. With only 1,500 votes to cast in each election, Cordova is a mere blip of the state's percentage. It does not get much attention from the state or federal representatives.
This precious watershed, its resources and its people deserve to be cherished and protected as diligently and persistently as we protect the Everglades and numerous other national treasures. Perhaps if you have the opportunity to enjoy some fresh Copper River salmon this season, you can savor each bite and consider the many factors that have gone into bringing it to your plate. Maybe the wonderful salmon taste will even inspire you to find a way to help preserve the Cordova ecosystem.
Dominic Cerino is the executive chef and co-owner of Carrie Cerino's Ristorante in North Royalton. He is a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America and was a chef delegate for Slow Food USA, representing the United States at Terra Madre 2006 in Torino, Italy. Carrie Cerino's flies fresh Copper River King salmon in every year when the season opens in mid-May. For more information or to contact Dominic, visit www.carriecerinos.com or call (440) 237-3434.
Photos by Dominic Cerino.
