After a three-day graduate school orientation initiated my tenure at the School of Marine and Environmental Affairs (SMEA) Master’s program, I double checked that I had attended the correct sessions. The faculty presentations and conversations with my peers made it clear that these people cared a lot about fish. And I mean a lot. As someone who had never gone fishing (and still hasn’t) or felt any connection to fisheries, I was perplexed. I remember painfully trudging my way through a group project in the department’s introductory course about fish hatcheries, thinking, “What’s the big deal? I don’t get it!”

This article is being published the week before I graduate from SMEA, 21 months after that fish-focused first quarter. I can now say, I get it. Fish, particularly salmon, are environmental and cultural keystones to Washington State, and therefore, their seat as a priority species for ecosystem-wide work is well deserved. Born from eggs in the headwaters of rivers, Pacific salmon migrate to the ocean to spend their adult years before returning to their natal streams to spawn. To me, the fact that they can adjust from freshwater to saline environments and back again is nothing short of miraculous. With adult bodies composed of ocean nutrients, they enrich upstream environments as they complete their life cycle. Over the course of these migrations they interact with numerous ecosystems and it’s estimated that they support 137 species, many of which are emblems of the region, including bears, orcas, and eagles. Salmon are high in Omega-3s, filling our bodies with healthy fats and proteins, they are a centerpiece to the culture of many Tribal Nations, and they fuel a $3 billion fishing industry. In short, they are key to the way of life here in the Pacific Northwest. Therefore, protecting salmon protects us. 

As I am just recently connecting with and learning about the importance of salmon, many of my colleagues might read this and think, “Not another salmon article!” Salmon recovery has been a hot topic for decades. Their foundational nature has made the fact that Pacific salmon have been declining for decades, to the tune of 90% in some places, extremely concerning. Population decline has given rise to significant time, money, and resources being spent on recovery. Despite these efforts, most salmon populations are still suffering. The news is fraught with dismal headlines portraying the devastating impacts of climate change and human disturbance on salmon. This has led the general population to question the feasibility of salmon recovery and the worthiness of continued efforts. 

This sentiment, coined “salmon fatigue” by my team, was the driving force for a project at NOAA Fisheries known as the West Coast Salmon Story. I have spent the past year working on this project as a Pathways Intern for the West Coast Region Communications and External Affairs division. Using the power of storytelling to inspire continued salmon recovery efforts, this project is centered around the idea of hope. The theme of hope is what initially drew me to this project because I have felt it enormously impact my graduate work. Taking courses on climate change impacts has tested my generally optimistic outlooks and contributed to my fair share of climate doomism. Supplementing this coursework with a project of hope was enticing.

The West Coast Salmon Story humanizes the dispassionate facts of population declines with stories of motivated individuals and successful projects. I interviewed people representing the diverse interests and backgrounds of those who care about salmon recovery across California, Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. So far, storytellers include the voices of fishers, restorationists, nonprofit founders, chefs, artists, youth, Tribal members, veterans, and ranchers. These people all have unique ways in which they are impacted by, and impacting, salmon: 

• A 17-year-old is leading community paint days, educating the public in the Seattle area on the presence of salmon in local streams while adding colorful murals to previously blank walls;
• A restaurant on the Oregon coast identifies the person who caught the fish being served that evening, connecting diner to fisher;
• A former gambler known as the California Kid put down the poker chips to start a nonprofit that engages the Gilroy community and removes garbage from streams; and
• A rural Idaho organization collaborates with ranchers to manage land in a way that promotes productive pasture land and healthy streams for the furthest east Pacific salmon spawning grounds. 

Short videos of these and other conversations will eventually be shared collectively on a story map, highlighting the impacts of salmon on the people and environments with which they interact from summit to sea.  

The diversity of storyteller engagement in this matter demonstrates that everyone has a place in the narrative. When this project is published later this summer, I hope that anyone who views and interacts with the West Coast Salmon Story connects with and sees similarities between themselves and at least one of the storytellers. I want them to feel a renewed sense of hope for salmon recovery and be energized to get involved in a way that is unique and appropriate for them. 

This past year has given me the opportunity to engage with unique people and places. I am walking away with not only interviewing, project management, and video production skills, but a greater understanding and appreciation of salmon and those working towards their recovery. These experiences have highlighted three key components of successful work in this field: collaboration, patience, and hope.

1. Collaboration is key 

   I had the opportunity to collaborate with internal and external partners throughout my work on the West Coast Salmon Story and hear about partnerships across diverse fields of work. The issues our world faces today are massive and vary geographically: warming waters, pollution, ocean acidification, energy demands, runoff, and so much more. Salmon are at risk of encountering all these challenges as they swim through forests, agricultural lands, cities, estuaries, and oceans. This may seem insurmountable to one person because there is no way to be an expert in each topic. No specialty can address all these issues, so interdisciplinary collaboration, such as that found at SMEA, is key. Diverse voices are needed to represent each unique perspective, so solutions that best serve the future can be found.

2. Go slow to go far

   No matter the size of a project, whether a story map or a dam removal, effective collaboration takes time. An old proverb goes, “If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” Although I am motivated by putting check marks on my to-do list, I wanted to lean into the collaborative spirit, so this project could go far. I prioritized taking the time to build trust and connections prior to conducting any interviews. I took the time to stop and evaluate with my team, allowing ourselves to change course even if it meant a delayed publishing date. Many storytellers talked about the importance of building trusting relationships before initiating projects. Taking the time to produce high-quality products and build internal and external connections has led to a product of which we’re proud and enlightening, deep conversation.

3. Without hope, there will be no action

   Through my graduate school experiences, I have learned that hope is an essential ingredient to climate change communication. Some course readings and lectures that lacked hopeful narratives nearly convinced me that maybe we humans were too far gone and there was nothing that could change our course. I’ve also participated in events that ended with a sliver of optimism; these are the presentations I leave feeling the most motivated and enthusiastic. I want to keep the thread of hope running through my future work, in which I will be delving into complex and at times fear-inducing issues created by anthropogenic climate change.

As my time at SMEA comes to a close, so too does my internship at NOAA Fisheries. This project will likely be published in late June once it has successfully been moved through the federal clearance process. It is also my capstone project for the Graduate Certificate in Climate Science. A couple of weeks ago, I presented a preliminary draft to Redmond High School’s AP Environmental Science classes for the certificate’s capstone project. These presentations represented the culmination of one year of work with NOAA Fisheries and the final step in completing the certificate program. These pilot presentations indicated that this project has strong potential to meet our defined communication goals of educating, instilling hope, and inspiring connection. Student responses to pre- and post- surveys indicated an increased knowledge of the issues being faced by salmon populations and of the work being done to restore salmon populations. Students also reported feeling a greater connection to and hope for salmon recovery. 

“[Salmon] emulate resilience; despite the challenges they face, they swim on, proving that obstacles can be overcome with hard work and determination.” 

Overall, I found this project to be an incredibly educational, rewarding, and inspirational experience. Before my internship at NOAA Fisheries, I had little knowledge of salmon, their heroic migrations, and their vital role in ecosystem health. I find their tenacity endearing and motivational. They emulate resilience; despite the challenges they face, they swim on, proving that obstacles can be overcome with hard work and determination. I have worked with a team of intelligent, dedicated, and visionary people who have mentored and taught me valuable lessons along the way. I also had the opportunity to collaborate with, and interview, devoted and inspirational people; after numerous emotional conversations, I feel deeply connected to their stories and compelled to share them widely. As I learned about how others are connected to salmon, people, and the landscapes across the West, I felt my own connections grow stronger. I will take these feelings of resilience, collaboration, and connection with me as I move forward.