Winter 2025

I'm Sarah. I'm a generational small-boat fisher(wo)man living in Cordova, a tiny fishing town in South Central Alaska, surrounded by mountain ranges, glaciers, forests, and river systems. We sit next to the Copper River Watershed, which supports our region's Copper River Salmon. I've been on a fishing boat longer than I can remember, with my first trip at a few months old. Every summer of my life has been syncing-up with wild fish runs, where out of necessity everything else must fall back and make room for whatever it may be the fish demand. Each year is different, as is each day.

Copper River Fish Market started out of necessity and being fed up with the status quo. After a particularly grueling patch of weather and work conditions, we radioed in to the corporate buyer about our small catch, and learned what they would pay for it. The captain accepted it; I didn’t.

After some discussion with the Captain. I convinced him to sell the fish to me instead. I was able to find higher paying markets, more direct markets for the catch and proved my hunch that the middle man was not a necessity in getting our catch to market. From all those years ago I have helped dozens of fishers earn more for their catch while also providing customers a more premium product at a fair price.

Let me start with a quick biology lesson: Salmon begin and end their lives in fresh water, and spend their lives at sea. The female fish lay eggs in riverways; the males fertilize them and it takes a winter for the eggs to mature and then several months for the little baby fish to migrate from inland waterways out to the ocean. 

Different species of salmon have different lengths of time they spend at sea before returning to spawn. The salmon complete their lifecycle and die after spawning, as their bodies are no longer compatible with fresh water. They waste away and in the spring the new hatch nibbles up what remains of them. Nutrients from the dead salmon play a vital role in flora and fauna of forest health. Since we insert ourselves in the food-web just prior to their spawning cycle and subsequent death, there's a bit of solace knowing the creature being eaten was just about to die.

If your salmon isn't labeled wild, it's factory farmed. There is no commercially available wild Atlantic salmon, and most Atlantic salmon eaten on the East Coast is imported. Pacific salmon is not farmed. Wild and farmed salmon are completely different foods.

Farmed salmon doesn't offer the same nutritional benefits and even carries consumption limits for some individuals due to antibiotics used in dense fish pens. These operations also cause major ecological harm, with runoff impacting surrounding ocean waters. Many countries restrict or heavily tax these farms because of environmental damage.

The feed for factory farmed salmon is another issue: coastal communities around the world lose local food sources as wild fish are turned into fish meal—requiring roughly 5 pounds of wild fish to produce one pound of farmed salmon.

Supporting wild salmon also supports small businesses. Alaska's fisheries are made up of owner-operators; salmon permits must be privately held by individuals, not corporations. Fishers don't own the fish until they catch them, serving as the link between wild food and eaters who care about where their seafood comes from. Protecting sustainable fisheries preserves public access to wild foods.

The season is short but intense. With nearly 24-hour daylight, we joke that we only work "days." Weather and tides dictate everything. We’re constantly checking forecasts and prepping for the next anticipated fishing opportunity. Once the opener starts, it's nonstop—set the net, pick the net, ice the fish, repeat. You eat when you can, sleep whenever possible, and monitor weather constantly.

All of Alaska’s fisheries have firmly enforced catch limits that are based on close monitoring by scientific modeling to ensure we do not exceed sustainable catch limits. This means that we cannot remove fish in a quantity from the food web that would jeopardize the longevity and health of a fish species, nor can our fishing impart a negative impact that would threaten another species of fish or mammal. This is enforced at a very granular level. For instance our Copper River fishery actually has sonar stations in place that in real time count the number of salmon that have returned up river to spawn. 

Before our fishery opens each spring fish must first return to the river system, only then will our fishery open for a short catch cycle. There is a pause to allow more salmon to enter the river system and make their way past the sonar counter. After a satisfactory number passes by we can then fish again. This on again off again cycle repeats from spring until fall with hourly updates posted by the scientists so that fishers can hedge our bets on when we might fish again, but we are reliant on official notice being given that our fishery will commence at a certain date and time, only then do we know the duration of what’s ahead of us. There can be an awful lot of anticipation. It’s demanding and a cycle that is out of our control and on short notice supersedes other plans that may have been made in the interim. 

It requires patience and flexibility, but it's the life most of us grew up with.

It's been a tough several years. Consolidation in the seafood supply chain has replaced local buyers with large conglomerates, leaving some towns dependent on a single corporate buyer. Fishers deliver their catch without knowing the price and often learn later that they're being paid less than it cost to catch the fish. When buyers competed, we could trust we'd at least cover expenses. Now fishers often gamble on whether their catch will pay or cost them.

That's why the work I do matters. Helping fishers capture more of the supply chain shifts power back to small-boat harvesters. It's motivating to see progress, even in small increments. And yes—I'm stubborn. If there's an injustice, I won't sit still. Real change starts with individual actions that build into a movement.

I love the distinct flavor profiles of Alaska's wild salmon. Each variety is genetically different—much like breeds of pigs (think Red Wattles or Berkshire), cows (Angus or Wagyu), or apples (Honeycrisp or Red Delicious). Copper River Salmon is known for elevated flavor: our King is incredibly rich, Sockeye has deep complexity, and our lesser-known Coho has a clean, bright flavor that's a close second to King for me.

Our smoked salmon is shelf-stable until opened and made from the best fish we catch with only three ingredients. We ship to the lower 48, and I personally pack each order. If anyone wants to try our award-winning smoked salmon, visit www.CopperRiverFishMarket.com. It's great on salads, charcuterie boards, or a bagel with cream cheese—and makes a unique gift. If your readers want to learn more, they can sign up for my newsletter on our website.