This past week, I, along with SCS co-workers Paul Killian and Tracy Gagnon, had the privilege of introducing Ray Geier, a talented artist from Boulder, Colorado, and a recipient of one of the Forest Service’s annual artist residencies, to Southeast Alaska. Our destination was South Baranof, designated wilderness in 1980 under ANILCA, where we spent five days paddling from Shamrock Bay to the Rakof Islands. Along the way we monitored the land for human use and disturbance, kept track of boat and plane traffic for Forest Service management purposes, and disassembled an illegal tent platform. Greeted at our first campsite by a brown bear, our time spent out in the field also found us no stranger to wildlife. Not a day – or barely even an hour – went by in which we didn’t come across a sea otter, seal, or sea lion breaking the surface of the water in front of us. Thus, despite the fairly constant rain that hammered us for most of the trip, the splendor of the place was not lost on us. As Ray, frequently to be seen with colored pencil or paintbrush in hand, had to say: “It’s even more beautiful than I thought it would be.”
This residency with the Alaskan Voices of the Wilderness Program was Ray’s first visit to the state, so although a newcomer to Sitka myself, I tried over the course of the trip to communicate as much about the history of the land as I could. We discussed logging and the pulp mills, and SCS and ANILCA, and talked more generally about the allure of this landscape and the unique relationship between the Alaskan state and the American wild. It was while telling Ray the specific story of South Baranof though, and its particular path to wilderness designation, that I was struck by how fitting a place it is to hold the artist-in-residency trip; and that is because South Baranof provides the perfect example that you don’t have to be a conservationist by trade to care for the earth or embrace an environmental ethic. Neither the project of a non-profit nor the goal of a group of “greenies,” the proposal for the protection of this area actually came from the Sitka Chamber of Commerce. For this reason, I think that South Baranof has an important story to tell, which is that regardless of whether you’re an artist or a government employee or anything in between, there’s a role you can play in the preservation of our planet and public lands. Environmental stewardship can emanate from anywhere; caring for the Earth is not reserved exclusively for the environmentalist.
And this comes as very good news, because in recent decades – at a time when the environment has become one of the forefront social, scientific, and political issues of the day – people’s willingness to identify as an environmentalist has plummeted. In 1999, the last time that the national Gallup poll asked whether people considered themselves “environmentalists,” only 50% of respondents answered yes. Yet a related survey conducted only a few months later found 83% of respondents, a considerably larger number of individuals, “willing to agree with the goals of the environmental movement.” So what accounts for this disjunct?
According to a number of social scientific studies, many people’s hesitance to self-identity as an “environmentalist,” even while agreeing with the term’s associated values, stems from the negative connotations that people believe come attached with the word. For many, the term conjures up images of tree-hugging hippies, implies privileging ecology over the economy, or suggests subscription to a larger (and liberal) agenda. I myself have encountered friends and acquaintances wary of using the term for all of the above, among other, reasons. Which is why I like the story of South Baranof. It’s a story of an environmentalism differently defined – a story of many different types of people who over the years have worked to protect the land. As a matter of fact, the first people to press for restrained logging and preservation of the Southeast’s forests were not hippies, but hunters! Thus, from its Chamber of Commerce creators up through its current artist, among other, stewards, the individuals responsible for the creation and conservation of South Baranof have shown that “environmentalist” doesn’t have to be a restrictive or totalizing term. Caring for the Earth can come in different forms.
The American author and environmental activist Edward Abbey once advised his readers to “be as I am – a reluctant enthusiast, a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of your lives for pleasure and adventure.” As we continue to face growing environmental threats in the 21st century, I think the sentiment captured by Abbey’s statement is an important one: which is that caring for the earth doesn’t need to be your full time job in order to practice good stewardship. Being green doesn’t necessarily require engaging in extreme action, merely exercising a conscious ethic. So there is good news for the 66% of Americans who in 2014, in this year’s Gallup survey, admitted to worrying about the environment, which is that you can be an “environmentalist” and something else – be it an artist, or a hunter, or a town employee, or whatever job you currently hold. As the success story of South Baranof attests to, stewardship springs from many sources. You don’t have to be an “environmentalist” by trade to effect change and get the job done.
If you’re interested in learning more about or applying to a Voices of the Wilderness Alaska Artist Residency, be sure to check out the link on the Forest Service’s website. And if you’re still looking to get outdoors this summer, be sure to check out some of the opportunities provided by the Sitka Conservation Society at our wilderness page here. The artist trip may be over, but there are many more ahead! We’d love to have you involved.
Protecting old-growth forest is no longer a revolutionary idea. As we continue to discover ways that old-growth habitat are critical to salmon, birds, Sitka deer and numerous other species, people are making the connection between protecting these areas and the wildlife that we depend on. Leaving old-growth habitat intact is a no-brainer for Southeast Alaskans who depend on the forest as the place where they forage, hunt and fish. But we can’t ignore the fact that we use wood on a daily basis. Can these needs coexist?
One way that the Sitka Conservation Society is exploring this question is by looking at ways that Southeast Alaskans have selectively and sustainably harvested old growth trees throughout time. Immediately, we turn to the ways that Tlingit Alaska Native peoples have harvested the trees. In contrast to the ways that the forests were used in the 20thcentury when they were liquidated and exported as commodities, Alaska Natives used craftsmanship to carve useful and meaningful objects that were often imbued with their values and ideals. And they did it while understanding and maintaining the character and quality of the tree.
Equally as masterful was the way the Yakutat Tlingit steered their canoes through unexpected terrain. Lieutenant Frederick Gustavus Schwatk agreed. He wrote prolifically about traveling throughout the Tongass. After being welcomed on a canoe, he described how the Yakutat people delicately maneuvered a large canoe across a dam. In a 1886 New York Times article, he wrote “… . I never knew a canoe would stand so much..” After being carved, the Tlingit took great care of their canoes, covering them with damp clothes and lathering them with seal oil.
Until the early 20th century when Alaska Natives turned to skiffs with on-board motors for hunting and fishing, canoes made from old-growth wood were critical to the Tlingit lifestyle in southeast. And with the Alaskan coastline being longer than any of the other states’ combined, paddling is and always has been one of the most intimate ways to navigate our unpredictable waters. With craftsmanship, care and respect of the old- growth dug-out, the Tlingit perfected the art of floating through Southeast.
Keep an eye out as we explore the way that canoe-building in southeast demonstrates a sustainable use of our crucial old-growth trees.
Denise and Maureen have been friends for 15 years. They both participate in the same women’s group in Fort Collins, Colorado and love to travel. In the past, their adventures have taken them to India and Thailand. But, this summer, they set their sights on Alaska and they are already planning their return.
This is Hook. Paul named this humpback four years ago when he first saw it because of the hooked nature of its dorsal fin. The whale, Paul estimates, is more than 40 feet long and weighs about 35 tons. Captain Hook is actually an adult female whale.
But, the wildlife tour didn’t end there. Denise and Maureen had already seen grizzlies near Mt. McKinley on their driving tour up north, but they were pretty excited to come across this guy near Redoubt Bay as the salmon were coming in.
It was a fine cloudy morning with a touch of fresh breeze on June 11th; just another typical morning here in Sitka. My supervisor, Conservation Science Director for the Sitka Conservation Society (SCS), Scott Harris arrived at the Forest Service Bunk house (where I live) at 6:45 a.m. to pick me up. All I was told is that we will be setting traps to look for an invasive crab species that could potentially reach the waters of Alaska. I was super excited since I am not at all familiar with trapping crabs. On our way, we stopped to pick up Bethany Goodrich, SCS’s Tongass Policy and Communications Resident. Our first stop was at the Sitka Sound Science Center and Taylor White, the aquarium manager, greeted us. We loaded small containers with dead herring fish as bait before placing these containers into the six crab pots.
At 7:30 am in the morning, members of the Sitka Conservation Society and Sitka Sound Science Center were already busy, loading the boat with crab pots, and getting ready to take off to Sitka Sound to monitor the waters of the invasive crab species, the European Green Crab. As SCS’s Salmon Conservation Intern, I was eager to learn about the methods of monitoring invasive species in Alaska.
Currently, the European Green Crab is not known to occur in Alaska, but are currently found as far north as British Columbia. European Green Crabs first entered the United States in the mid 1800’s, coming by sailing ship to the Cape Cod region.Since then, the crabs have become well adapted to the environment and flourish in the waters of United States. However, with the increase in numbers, European Green Crabs have created negative impacts on local commercial and personal fishing and caused habitat disturbance thus affecting other native species. These crabs heavily prey on tubeworms, juvenile claims and juvenile crabs. In recent years, with the increase in the European crab population, there has been a strong decline in the populations of young oysters and other smaller native shore crabs. With its increasing population European Green Crabs have the potential to outcompete the native Dungeness crab for food and habitat. Thus, our mission of setting up the crab pots is to capture and halt the invasive European Green Crabs as early as possible in their invasion.
Shortly after we finished placing the bait, we headed towards Scott’s boat, Alacrity and placed the baits while waiting for Lynn Wilber, a PHD student from the University of Aberdeen in the United Kingdom. Once Lynn showed up, we headed out to the sea. As we headed out to sea, the panorama before me reminded me of the scenes from the discovery channel’s series “Deadliest Catch”, except for the fact that the water that we were in was a lot calmer.
We went out to where the water depth was about 30 ft and Scott plunged the first metal anchor that was attached to a marker buoy into the water. Attached to the buoy was a long heavy rope line and on that line we attached the crab pots using metal clippers. Each crab pot has to be 5-arm length apart from the other. One by one, we deployed the crab pots in to the water and at the end of the line, we attached another anchor with a marker buoy attached to it.
The next day, around the same time, we headed out to the sea to see if we had captured any European crabs in our crab pots. Keeping with the protocol, we had left the traps for the whole 24 hours. As we pulled in each trap, we discovered a bunch of sea stars, 1 rockfish and a male and a female Kelp Greenling and luckily no European Green Crabs. As part of the protocol, we also measured the salinity of the water because this is an area where the freshwater from Indian River fuse with the ocean and thus the salinity can fluctuate from time to time. Another reason for measuring the salinity is that the European Green Crabs are known to be tolerant of freshwater. Thus it is important to monitor the water chemistry, to determine if it is suitable environment for European Green Crabs to become established.
This process of monitoring happens every month in an effort by the staff of Sitka Conservation Society and Sitka Sound Science Center to protect that valuable native species of Alaska and to stop the invasion of the European Crab species as soon as possible. Forests, streams and the ocean all combine to provide a favorable habitat for salmon. To keep our fisheries healthy, we must continue to monitor and implement restoration projects in all of these three areas.
by Sarah Stockdale
I am in a land of light. Alaska is alive in the summer, and in southeast, the rainforest is abundant with green foliage. As part of the Alaska Conservation Foundation Summer internship program, I have been blessed with the opportunity to spend three months here in Sitka as a media and storytelling intern with SCS. And in the three weeks since I arrived here, I’ve found Alaskans themselves to be not unlike the native flora and fauna that surround them in the summer. They take advantage of their daylight hours, knowing that winter will bring plenty of time for hibernation. The fisherwomen from whom I rent sleep only three hours a night, especially when they’re on their boat and alert for King salmon snapping at the line. Karen Schmidt, an attorney who hosted me in Anchorage for the ACF intern orientation, was the same way. She worked tirelessly during the day, but was still happy to spend the late evening down at the beach until midnight, treasuring every last glimpse of light that bounced across the Cook Inlet mudflats.
As part of the Alaska Conservation Foundation internship program, I attended a weeklong orientation in Anchorage before heading off to my internship placement site. There, I met with young folks interning with conservation organizations across the state. We heard from conservation leaders on a variety of topics, from organizing to Alaskan history and GIS. While in Sitka, it’s easy to feel like one of only a handful of groups concerned with issues of conservation. In Anchorage, however, I was able to experience the interconnectedness of all the conservation movements across this enormous state. We certainly need one another.
In my first three weeks in Sitka, I’ve been able to sit back and breath in the Tongass, orienting myself to the sites, smells and culture. And when I look around me I see… green!!! For a New Mexican like me, you can’t imagine my awe at the density of life that the rain brings to this unique and hidden corner of the world. As one of the Alaska native speakers commented during the orientation, it’s less like subsistence out here, and more like abundance. And the Tongass is certainly abundant. Food prices may be high, but looking around, I see nourishment on ever corner from the salmonberry bushes to king salmon coming into the harbor on trollers.
I couldn’t feel further away from the suburban desert where I grew up. Yet it’s clear to me that maintaining and protecting the future of these natural resources is an issue that is not just important to Alaskans. With almost 80% of wild-caught salmon in North America coming from Alaskan fishermen, campaigns like the fight to protect Bristol Bay impact people all over the United States. Recently, New Mexico senator and congressman Tom Udall and Martin Heinrich spoke out against the Pebble mine. People are concerned, even down south.
And while a lot of people have a stake in the future of these lands, the people in southeast who have the time and energy to work on these issues are few. This is both overwhelming and deeply hopeful. It reminds me of the way a friend from Southern Colorado once described ranch culture. On a ranch, everyone’s help is needed. Nobody is turned away and everyone’s contribution is welcome. When there is a job to be done, you need all the hands you can get. Southeast Alaska feels similar to me. Every person’s energy adds to the greater goal. It’s nice to feel that you can really make a difference.
As a Media and Storytelling Intern, my job is to capture the ways that people in Sitka live in relationship with their natural environment. By sharing these stories, SCS hopes to connect people with their own sense of place in the Tongass, and their personal reasons for contributing to the fight to protect it from abusive extraction practices. There is certainly no shortage of stories here in Sitka. Every person I have spoken with has a relationship with the rhythms of the rainforest, whether through fishing, hunting, foraging, hiking, wood-work, etc. From artists, students, carvers, fishermen, elders to avid gardener, everyone has an appreciation for their home. And I’m falling in love more quickly than I’d imagined.
While my job here is to inspire others to recognize the singularity of the Tongass and the importance of protecting it, I’m not surprised to find that I’m the one being inspired. As the intern coordinator for ACF, Claire Pywell, commented: people come to Alaska for the landscape, but they stay for the people. And I’m starting to believe her.
Tommy Joseph is a Tlingit master carver in Sitka. He teaches and carves what he is commissioned to do and what he feels inspired to create.
His apprentice, Kristina Cranston, says of him: “I think (Tommy) could recall probably where each tree came for probably if not most, all of his jobs. This tree came from this, and the other half of it went to this job. And so it becomes personal. It’s like when you go into a grocery store and you see all these fruits and vegetables, you’re really just getting the final product. You don’t know where it was planted and who grew it and how it was harvested and cared for and transported. Whereas with his trees he’s usually part of most of the process and knows where it comes from…And I think when you have that experience it’s not a commodity, it’s really the entire process, this whole cycle. And the end result is this beautiful totem pole, and usually somebody really happy.”
Continue reading to see some of Tommy’s work and how it relates to the community!
Sitka Kitch will be kicking off some classes this month. From July 25-27th Sitka Kitch welcomes Sarah Lewis from UAF Cooperative extension. Sarah is the Family & Community Development Faculty for the Southeast Districts. Beginning Friday evening, Sarah will lead a ‘Cottage Food Industry’ class. This class is geared towards those wishing to produce value added products for the cottage food industry. Saturday, July 26th Sarah will be at the Sitka Farmer’s Market assisting vendors and answering questions. Starting at 3:00pm Sarah will lead a ‘canning the harvest’ course, focusing on canning and preserving fish and veggies. The weekend will wrap up Sunday with a ‘Soups and Sauces’ workshop beginning at noon.
Classes will be held at Sitka High School and run several hours.
- Friday, 5:30-8:00pm
- Saturday, 3:00-8:00pm
- Sunday, 12:00-5:00pm
Classes cost $20.00 each and space is limited. Students are asked to bring 8-12 half pint jars for the Cottage Food Industry course and 12 half pint jars for the other classes. All food and supplies will be provided and students will take home what they prepare.
Sitka Kitch will be partnering with Sitka Tribe of Alaska to offer a pickled salmon course on in August.This class is offered free of charge, but space is extremely limited. More details on date and location will be available soon.
To register for any course please contact Marjorie or Tracy at 747-7509.
Sitka Kitch is a new community food project in Sitka. We seek to provide community education, training, small business development and access to commercial kitchen space with the end goal of improving our local food security. This is the first series of classes to increase community knowledge and awareness around nutrition and local foods.
It’s amazing to see how far Fish to Schools has spread. Sitka wasn’t the first community to serve local fish in schools , but we put the program on the map. By telling our story, advocating for policy change, and sharing resources we’ve been able to support Fish to Schools efforts across the state. And it’s happening! Alaskan fish is now served in nearly every school district in Alaska.
I just finished up a few visits to four Southeast Communities: Kake, Hoonah, Hydaburg, and Kasaan. I was working with the Sustainable Southeast Partnership to check out what’s happening in each community and connect them to resources to strengthen their programs.
I started in Kasaan on Prince of Whales Island (POW). It’s a tiny village of about 60 people with a traditional schoolhouse and 10 kids. They started serving Alaskan fish in 2013 but it comes from the Anchorage area. Kasaan is surrounded by water and subsistence is a way-of-life—finding local fish isn’t the problem. But as it stands only commercial fish can enter a school meal program, so we’re looking at how we can circumnavigate that and support the fishermen who live on POW.
Next was Hydaburg, a village of about 400 people and 50 students. They have a similar story, Alaskan fish is offered but it comes from up north. They have commercial fishermen but the closest place they can deliver is in Craig. There are a few logistical challenges to get local fish in Hydaburg schools, but the interest is there to make it possible.
Then I was in Kake, with about 550 people and 110 students. They have been serving fish from Wasilla but have a local seafood processor in town. The processor up north portions and packages fish in a way that makes it easy for the school—but it doesn’t support the local fishermen or processor right in town. It’s convenient yes, and that’s important; schools just don’t have enough staff in the kitchen to cook foods from scratch. While the local seafood processor can’t match the level of processing they are currently used to, they are willing to do some minimal, custom processing for the school so Kake can serve Kake fish next year!
I finished my round of visits in Hoonah, where a strong program already exists. This town of about 750 residents and 100 students, has seen local halibut in schools since 2012. They serve salmon as well but also source it from up north. They are willing to give local salmon a shot next year and hope the pin bones won’t be a big (time) issue.
All four districts I visited have been purchasing local seafood through the Nutritional Alaskan Foods for Schools grant. It’s created an incentive to purchase local and also offsets the high food costs for small, remote communities. Kasaan, Hydaburg, and Kake all specifically spoke to the economic importance of purchasing locally for their communities.
Every district also seemed open, even enthusiastic, to the Stream to Plate curriculum. Principals and superintendents were excited to pass it along to a few of their teachers, who could implement and adapt the lessons to their classroom and community. Teaching students the backstory to the fish on their plate will empower them to make food choices that extend beyond taste. These children are our future fishermen, seafood processors, entrepreneurs, resource managers, and consumers of Alaskan seafood.
All in all, the response was positive and I’m excited to see what happens. Each community has an active community catalyst through the Sustainable Southeast Partnership to follow through on Fish to Schools goals. I’m here on standby as they make small and significant changes.