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Newsletter Excerpt

Will’s Fish Article by Will Harling

Here on the Klamath River, near where the Salmon River runs into it, the bounty of fruits and vegetables overflowed this summer onto countertops, spilling out of bowls and into little kids' mouths: blackberry face paint that takes a hot washcloth to get off, the first melons of the year to eat down at the swimming hole. About the only thing missing from the pantry is the salmon.

This year was the lowest year on record for wild spring Chinook in the Klamath River, with only 83 counted this year during the annual dive on the Salmon River, the largest remaining refugia for these fish. For the last three years, I have surveyed the same reach on the South Fork of the Salmon River; a four-mile stretch from the Cecilville gorge to the Mathews Creek Campground. It's a convoluted mess of undercut limestone ledges, Class V rapids, deep pools, bubble curtains, and logjams; the nastiest stretch on the river. And the fish love it. This reach continually yields the highest numbers of adult Springers every year, often holding more than 100 fish.

Looking into these places where, for the last few years there were fish crowded in, there is only the clear green water, the mixing bubbles, and the rocks on the river bottom making a colorful collage of the geology of these mountains. We counted 18 salmon on our reach this year, even with good spring and early summer rains. Whatever the contributing causes, the numbers don't lie. Even if we missed counting half the salmon in the river, these numbers are still the lowest on record. And it’s not just the spring run Chinook that are hurting.

Did anyone catch the AP story on the 100,000 fish that turned belly up between Upper Klamath Lake and Keno Reservoir? The only reason there have been no Mid Klamath fish kills in the news lately is because, since mid-July, mainstem Klamath temps from Happy Camp and above have been averaging 25 degrees Celsius and up, with peaks around 27 to 28 degrees; a veritable dead zone for salmonids.

Juvenile fish counts above the mouth of the Scott in the mainstem Klamath are a tenth of the previous lowest counts. Why? Was it the low releases out of Irongate in the spring of 2002, which led to a juvenile die-off that resulted in low returning Fall Chinook numbers last year? The problem with salmon biology is there is no one smoking gun, nothing that you can prove without a doubt in the court of law. This burden of proof is a heavy one. “If only we could just get more information, then maybe we could understand exactly what factors are causing this decline in fish populations" is a common sentiment among fisheries scientists. But all too often better data simply leads to more accurate questions, not irrefutable proof.

What few fish there were in the River this summer crowded into the creek mouths. While out surveying, I saw on several occasions sick and injured juveniles getting eaten by resident trout before they even touch the bottom. If it's one thing the river does very well, it's recycle dead fish. The fish have been dying. A couple of weeks ago, one of those 83 Chinook salmon on the Salmon River was found dead below the Wooley Creek confluence. That's one that was found. How many were eaten by bears and vultures, or taken home by poachers?

Those of us who are on the river every week, that have our finger on its pulse, know that even in this year of relatively good flows, the Klamath is a sick and dying river. As the spotlight turns to new stories around the country and around the globe, the communities and cultures that once relied on its mighty fishery do what we can with little resources to bring it back.

I keep thinking that if people could only see, the fish are the cornerstone of a culture, and that we would not be good stewards if we were not doing all we could to preserve them. I ask ranchers what they would do if their cows started dying, and they had some good data about the cause, but couldn't prove beyond a shadow of a doubt what was killing them. They would do whatever it took to find the answer, and stop it. If there were an industrial plant poisoning the stock water, the rancher would damn well make sure that plant changed its ways to ensure the health of their cattle.

I search for what will unite us people of the Klamath Basin, because on the surface there is so much that divides us, so much that gives us reason to hate and fear each other. It is this hate and misunderstanding that has allowed us to get to a place where the future of the Klamath fishery hangs from a thread. So I listen to the stories folks in the agricultural valleys of the Upper Klamath Basin, the Scott, and the Shasta tell about their lives, their families, their history, and their hardships.

What I hear is that the regulation of water to protect the fish is one of many pressures threatening these family farms, threatening a way of life built upon faith, hard work, community and family. And they have done a lot to protect the fish, including screening diversions, modernizing irrigation systems, restoring riparian areas, closely regulating grazing, and much, much more.

Farmers and ranchers are fighting just like downriver communities to protect a way of life more and more untenable in the global market forces that affect us all. Big money from the cities is waiting to turn these farms and ranches into ranchettes and subdivisions, which ultimately may lead to increased water use, more pollution, and loss of community. Ultimately, I have gathered that environmental solutions are directly tied to social solutions. If we don't look out for our own local economies, whether they are based on fish, timber, alfalfa, beef, potatoes, seafood, or recreation, they will fail. They have failed. They are failing. Economic stability leads to community stability and ecological stability.

Through conversations at these Klamath Stakeholders workshops, there has been talk about an alliance between producers within the Klamath Basin. I know for sure people in the lower part of the Basin who depend on fish would pay more money for alfalfa, beef, potatoes, wheat, and other crops grown or harvested in a fish-friendly manner (minimal use of water, fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides). Likewise, fish, lumber, seafood, and other products harvested from the lower portion of the watershed in a fish friendly way that will reduce the burden of restoration projects by Upper Klamath farmers and ranchers might be worth more to them. This idea of having an annual celebration that honors the various cultures, foods and products of the Klamath watershed, might be a good place to further develop this concept of a “Klamath Trade Alliance”.

Right now salmon are rapidly disappearing from our part of the world, and fish advocates working alone to save them has not and will not work. This question needs to be asked to all of the basins stakeholders: Will we have salmon as part of the continued legacy of the Klamath River as they have been since the beginning of time? Or have our values shifted such that collectively we have decided we don’t need the salmon or the natural systems they rely upon anymore. It’s time for us to all look into our hearts. The disappearance of the salmon is posing us with much larger and looming questions of our future. How will the peoples and cultures of the Klamath watershed persist without the resources that support them?