Sacred Salmon: The Heart of Alaska
If you look at the heart of Alaska, you will find salmon at its core. These incredible fish keep our state alive and thriving. Throughout every community, salmon play a huge part. Salmon are not just a food source but a cultural and spiritual symbol. They also provide many Indigenous people financial security through commercial fishing. Salmon sustain our families and way of life. They are one of Alaska’s true essences.
Some of my first and most fond memories include salmon. From harvesting, thanking, and preparing them, salmon have been one of my greatest teachers. Not only are they my teachers, but they are my relatives. I am Iñupiaq and Koyukon Athabascan and in my culture, we view these fish not just as a resource, but our family.
Throughout the state, many Indigenous people feel the same way towards these incredible fish. It is not just my region, but all Indigenous regions who feel a strong and sacred connection to salmon. When the fish run strong - we do too.
For many Alaska Native Peoples, including myself, salmon are powerful spirits. They connect us to one another as well as the land and waters. They nourish not only our bodies, but our souls, communities, and culture. They remind us of the cycles of life we all experience, the ebbs and flows of abundance as well as emphasizing reciprocity. When we care for them, they will care for us.
Traditionally and still to this day, Indigenous fishermen and women will celebrate and thank the first catch of the season. Thanking and honoring the fish to welcome more for a bountiful season. Every ceremony is unique, special, and sacred to the Indigenous region and group. Salmon are one of our main subsistence resources, which is why a strong bond is so important. My family and community, as well as many others, harvest salmon to sustain us throughout the winter and spring.
Growing up, my family’s summers revolved around salmon. We were always at the ocean or river harvesting our fair share. We had a smoke house in our backyard where friends and family would gather to prepare the fish to be smoked, canned, and enjoyed. Sounds of laughter and love would fill the air, as well as the soul warming smell coming from the smokehouse. Recipes old and new would be shared and passed on to one another.
Before my family’s smoke house in the backyard of our Wasilla home, there was my family’s fish camp on the Yukon where Elders, my mother, and her siblings would harvest and prepare salmon for the winter. Salmon swim in our bloodline just like the rivers. In so many ways, we are one.
Salmon have been a lifeline for me for as long as I can remember. They have been a spiritual anchor in my life, calling me home to my soul again and again. They nourish me in ways far beyond the eye. I realize now how lucky I am to be so intricately connected to these fish - to have such a powerful life force as my true family.
Looking back at my childhood, it makes me giggle thinking about how my sister and I would start to complain mid-winter about how much salmon we were eating. My mother would prepare salmon in incredible ways at least three times, if not more, per week. Now I just smile on the memories and realize it was fuel for my body and soul. It was connecting us deeply to our culture and ancestors. I now spend my winters happily eating salmon on the regular and rationing my smoked salmon when spring comes around, ensuring that I do not run out before the next salmon season arrives.
Another core way salmon have supported me and many other Indigenous people is through commercial fishing. While to some this can be a controversial topic, to me it’s another way I’ve connected to my culture, and the Alaska salmon run is one of the most carefully managed fisheries in the world. Many Indigenous fishermen and women have found their livelihood in this industry and are at the forefront of the effort to protect wild salmon.
If you have ever talked to an Indigenous commercial fisherman, you have seen the twinkle and joy in their eyes that fishing brings them. Whether it be seining, gill netting, or set netting, the excitement salmon season brings to people in this industry is palpable. In many ways commercial fishing is not only an industry but a strong-knit community of people who care deeply for the salmon as well as each other.
I started commercial fishing at 20 years old, and it was one of the most empowering things I could have done for myself as a young woman. I was introduced to the community and industry as a teenager when I moved to Kodiak, Alaska. Kodiak is a fishing town on Alutiiq/Sugpiaq land, and I quickly found myself welcomed and learning about another Indigenous culture and their ways of life. I would not be who I am today without my Alutiiq and Suqpiaq friends who became family.
With this in mind, it would be wrong not to mention the threat on salmon. Some of our salmon runs have not been healthy enough to fish, including my ancestral lands and rivers. My family used to harvest fish from the Yukon River but are no longer able to due to declining numbers of salmon making it upriver. There are many reasons this is happening, from climate change to overfishing within the commercial sector. Not all fisheries in Alaska are as regulated as salmon are, and it is largely these fisheries affecting our salmon populations.
No one in particular can directly take the blame, but one thing is for certain - it will take all of us uniting to ensure the longevity of salmon. Salmon are a culturally defining part of Alaska and shape the land’s livelihood. I encourage you to take the time to thank the salmon you meet while in and out of Alaska, as well as buy wild caught salmon. If we let them, the salmon have much to teach us. Salmon are truly sacred.
New! Alaska Native Culture Guide
Immerse yourself in Alaska Native heritage and learn how to experience the living culture of the state's Indigenous peoples.