For the past few years, smokehouses in the Yukon River village of Anvik have sat empty.
After salmon populations crashed, dozens of Alaska Native communities along the river faced a stark new reality, one without the fish that had fed families and sustained Yup'ik and Athabascan traditions for generations.
This summer, though, smoke once again wafted through Anvik, on the middle Yukon River some 350 miles west of Anchorage.
The river’s two main salmon species, chinook and chum, have recorded a surprising uptick in numbers. And in spite of state regulations that bar fishing for chinook, Anvik’s fishermen have caught dozens of the fish this year, plus even more salmon of other species — meaning that there are enough to share with Elders, hang in smokehouses, and store in freezers.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen the smokehouses smoking in five years,” said Robert Walker, former chief of the Anvik Tribal Council. “I was just amazed. People are so happy.”
The returning fish could represent a remarkable rebound for one of Alaska’s most iconic and culturally important salmon runs, though scientists caution that numbers are still relatively low and that more data is needed before they can be confident about a meaningful turnaround.
The harvest in Anvik, announced by Walker on a public teleconference with fishery managers and local leaders in July, also has inflamed a long-running political debate over fishery closures and government policies aimed at rebuilding the runs.
In 2024, Alaska state officials agreed with the Canadian government to a seven-year ban on harvesting chinook along the Yukon River, which flows from northwest Canada more than 2,000 miles through Alaska to the Bering Sea.
Even though many Alaska Native leaders generally agreed about the need to limit fishing, they also criticized Alaska’s government for not formally including tribal governments in the decision-making process.
The recent chinook harvest in Anvik came in spite of the official moratorium.
Walker, in a recent phone interview, described the state’s implementation of the ban without input from tribal leaders as a form of “dictatorship.”
Alaska Department of Fish and Game Commissioner Douglas Vincent-Lang said that state officials wouldn't have been able to reach a timely agreement with Canada if they had formally consulted with every tribe along the river. But he pushed back against the idea that they didn't get input from local leaders before agreeing to the ban.
"We talked to a lot of people downriver," Vincent-Lang said in a brief phone interview. "I think it's working," he added, referring to the agreement. He also noted that the ban includes certain exceptions, such as allowing fishing on tributaries when local spawning goals are met.
During the July teleconference, Walker described a scene of joy in Anvik. People in the village are "eating fish like they never ate fish before," he said.
Some salmon advocates and fisheries biologists say that the chinook run isn’t yet strong enough to warrant fishing. The numbers are still well below targets set by fisheries managers.
Roughly 32,000 chinook have been counted so far this season at a sonar station in Eagle, Alaska, near the Canadian border. That’s more than the state had tallied by now in recent years. But it’s still below average, and the final count is expected to be substantially lower than the goal of 71,000 set by Alaska and Canadian fisheries managers two years ago.
“While it is a little bit more encouraging, the runs are still well below average,” said Deena Jallen, a Yukon River area fisheries biologist for the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. “We’re still not meeting any goals in Alaska and Canada.”
In a statement posted on social media last week, a leading Alaska Native advocate described the painful decision not to fish during closures that she and many others along the Yukon River have made, and she called on fishermen to continue cooperating with government agencies with the shared goal of restoring the salmon runs.
“I understand the importance of passing on our way of life, our traditional knowledge, and our culture to our children and grandchildren,” said Serena Alstrom, the longtime executive director of Yukon River Drainage Fisheries Association, a conservation-focused advocacy group with board members from communities along the river.
“Because of that, I have made the difficult decision not to fish when regulations require it. I don't do it because it is easy or because I always agree with management. I do it because I believe those sacrifices give our salmon the best chance to recover for future generations,” Alstrom said.
In a phone interview, Alstrom said that she has heard about more instances of illegal fishing this summer than usual — not only in Anvik, but on other stretches of river too. “It’s upsetting,” she said.
Later, Alstrom released another statement, saying the boost in salmon numbers this year reflects the “diligence of those who have chosen to allow these salmon to continue their journey to the spawning grounds.”
Most families along the river are continuing to make that sacrifice, Alstrom said in the interview. They’re doing that not merely for the sake of following rules, but because they “understand that we need to have salmon at the spawning grounds,” she said.
In Anvik, the fishermen used a traditional fish wheel to catch chinook and chum, according to Walker. They released most of the fish, but kept a few dozen chinook and more than 100 salmon of other species, he said.
The fishermen took only what the village needed, Walker added. The fish “went in people's freezers, and people are jarring them, too,” he said.
The Alaska State Troopers, the organization that enforces state fisheries closures, have not observed an increase in illegal salmon harvests this season, according to spokesperson Austin McDaniel.
The agency issued five citations for illegal fishing along the lower Yukon River during a salmon closure, including one for unlawfully possessing chinook, McDaniel said.
State wildlife troopers “are aware of reports of potential improper fishing practices near Anvik,” McDaniel said. “However, we have been unable to substantiate those claims at this time.” But, McDaniel added, “our patrols indicate that compliance with Yukon River subsistence fishing restrictions remains high and has improved in many areas.”
On another river in Western Alaska, the Kuskokwim River, fishing during state-imposed closures more than a decade ago led to prosecutions of Yup’ik fishermen, who unsuccessfully argued that harvesting was an expression of their constitutionally protected religious beliefs.
Chinook numbers in the Yukon River initially plummeted more than two decades ago, and harvests have largely been limited since then. The run dropped to a record low of about 50,000 fish in 2022, down from closer to 300,000 decades ago.
The 2026 run is now estimated at 103,000 fish, far exceeding pre-season forecasts. Managers also counted nearly 1 million summer chum, which was more than forecasted and enough for limited fishing opportunities in Western Alaska communities, like Anvik, along the lower and middle river.
In a recent interview with KYUK, the regional public broadcaster, a Yup’ik Elder in Russian Mission, 70 miles downstream of Anvik, described a sense of elation around the summer chum harvest.
“When I ate my fish,” said the Elder, Alexandra Quak-aq Kozevnikoff, “I could feel that tingling from my stomach come out like [a] little quiver all the way around my body, even to the top of my head, and a big sigh of relief.”
