Banner photo: Youth learn to delicately remove pin bones from dry fish.
This story first published in Edible Alaska No.39 Spring 2026 Adaptations
Yakutat, Alaska—
Each year, salmon fight their way home, traveling ocean currents, moving with tides, and returning with remarkable precision to the silty waters of the S’itak River. Locals launch small skiffs to greet them, gillnetting the same river their families have fished for thousands of years. This steady work feeds the community of Yakutat, offering physical sustenance and spiritual grounding.
“I appreciate how respectful you are around the fish. I know it’s fun to play, but when we’re working on fish we are working on food, right?” says Góos’k’ Ralph Wolfe to a group of fidgeting kids gathered around a fish cutting station at Yakutat Culture Camp.
The sound of drums carries across the water and echoes against the mountains. Alder smoke rises from the smokehouse, fed by ancient brine recipes passed down through countless generations. This is the first Culture Camp hosted by Yakutat Tlingit Tribe (YTT) in two years. YTT, whose mission is “to empower [their] tribal community to thrive for generations to come, by contributing positively to Haa Shagoon, [their] legacy as the People of Yaakwdáat”, supports its tribal citizens in myriad ways, including cultural food distributions. Enthusiasm for the return of Culture Camp is thick, bringing locals and partners from across the region together to celebrate abundance and cultural vitality with young leaders along the S’itak.
“It’s important to have fun and bring good energy into the work, but it’s also important to be careful not to waste the fish. I need you guys to have your game face on,” adds Ralph. Most know Ralph as Uncle, but he’s also the Director of Indigenous Stewardship Programs at Tlingit & Haida (T&H).
At the table, Ralph is joined by members of Tlingit & Haida’s Traditional Food Security team, Helene Bennett from Juneau and Anthony Christianson of Hydaburg. Christianson—or Tony—is an unforgettable mentor: big and boisterous, unserious and serious all at once. He’s the kind of person who can take the words Food Security out of a program title and make them relevant to a group of teenagers.
“We don’t have money, right? Well, this is your security,” he says, motioning to the coolers of fish waiting to be processed. “This could last you ten years. Today, we’re putting this fish into a form that can be preserved and conserved, so you can have salmon to look forward to even when there’s less available—maybe the weather changes, or the climate is different. You need food.”
Adaptation to environmental and social change requires communities to know where their food comes from, and how to handle it. Tony reminds the kids of a time not so long ago when those systems were tested.
“Like when we went through the pandemic—what happened? You got locked up, stayed out of school, and had to eat Rice Krispie treats, right? That’s what aid they sent you in those food boxes—a bunch of sugar and garbage. That’s when we woke up and said, ‘We’ve got to do better.’”
Since 2022 T&H’s Traditional Food Security Program has distributed over two hundred thousand pounds of traditional foods including black cod, salmon, and roe on kelp to shareholders. The team also shows up eagerly when invited to events like Culture Camp, teaching skills in hunting, fishing, and processing alongside local leaders.
Around the tables, youth share their experiences working on fish. Some have been slicing salmon practically since birth; for others, this is their first exposure. Regardless, everyone needs help mastering knife strokes that can take thousands of fish before they settle into muscle memory. X’aal Eex’ Tláa Gloria Wolfe is the Culture Camp Director. She explains that camps create safe environments where kids can shamelessly practice, practice, practice. Young learners move with care and excitement, tending fish under the watchful eyes of aunties, uncles, and Elders.
On the second day of camp, Gloria asks campers how their first fish compared to their last. “My first fish, I was not that confident, but by the last one I was pretty confident,” says Greg Converse.
“Let’s just say everyone’s first cuts are pretty rough to start,” she laughs, before turning serious again. “We thank the fish for swimming out of the ocean and coming back to this river so our grandkids, our nephews, and our nieces can learn how to process them. Those fish chose you. Those fish love you back.”
Generations come together, each playing their part, all grounded in the steady rhythms of Tlingit cultural values that continue to hold and connect the community. Hand over hand, practicing slippery cuts, campers work over sockeye in an atmosphere that welcomes mistakes but isn’t without guidance—Elders peeping over shoulders, sneaking little bites, and offering suggestions. The Yakutat Senior Center directed with care by Tiffany Bemis, with support from Mark, Mayan and Uncle Ronnie bussed more than 15 elders, daily. Most sit on folding chairs under tents, avoiding the rain while soaking in the pure joy of kids rich in their culture. Giggles drift through the air, feeding the fire. Compassionate cooks pile up mountains of food, and respectful children make sure Elders receive their plates first.
Everyone is well fed by auntie Karrina Bell. It’s clear this community is wealthy.
“Wealth is about knowing who you are,” says Gloria. “Wealth is having a regulated nervous system and knowing where your clan is from and your migration history. It’s having a network of people you can lean on. Having wealth is being able to hunt and fish, knowing when and how. It’s knowing how to treat fish with respect and knowing the stories and songs that go along with the land. It’s having your family’s recipes.”
And not just one recipe. “Some people leave bark on the alder they use to smoke. Some only gather alder by rivers, because the water moving through the roots affects the flavor. Others harvest alder near the ocean and sand, where salty air kisses its growth. ‘Abundance’ is our kids knowing the many recipes and the ‘why’s behind them.”
Participants cherish that abundance at Culture Camp and acknowledge their wealth with gratitude. Cathy Wasillie, an Elder who grew up north on the Yukon, shares stories of her childhood smokehouses, full of hanging king salmon—since shuttered due to collapsed fisheries.
“Our smokehouse used to be as big as that,” she says, pointing. “But three stories tall,” the kids gasp. “The strips were really big. Those kings were really big. They don’t have fishing open down at the river anymore, because there’s hardly any fish going up.”
“And I’m the guy who has to tell them to stop fishing,” Tony adds. In addition to his role with T&H, Tony serves as chair of the Federal Subsistence Board, helping craft balanced policies and make difficult decisions that protect the long-term health of resources and the communities tied to them.
“So while I’m here, I’m not just working the camp,” he says. “Yesterday, I went all the way up the Situk to the weir to talk with local managers and understand the landscape. That way, if issues from here hit our table, I have a general understanding.”
Tony, who’s been engaged on the Federal Subsistence Board for over twelve years, encourages campers to participate in the public process, engaging with a structure that may feel complicated and bureaucratic, but whose decisions have real impact around the dinner table. Partners including non profits like the Sitka Conservation Society, Tribal governments, and universities across the state are working together to help community members and youth navigate the state’s regulatory processes –helping bring up the next generation of resource managers and leaders. “Last year, we had a really strong cohort of youth get involved in meetings, and some are now serving in positions on their local boards.”
“At camp, we instill values of being part of the ecosystem,”Gloria says. She explains how caring for lands and waters is a lot like caring for our family and community: It begins with establishing a deep foundational understanding.
“We want our kids to be fluent in the wind, the tide, and the sequence of fish. So when the time comes for them to advocate on behalf of the waters and the lands, they’ve been part of it. They’ve felt the energy of the river. They know the cycles and the systems. They know how to treat the fish. They know where they came from, and they’ll have a wealth of passion and familiarity to pull from.”
“We want our kids to be fluent in the wind, the tide, and the sequence of fish. So when the time comes for them to advocate on behalf of the waters and the lands, they’ve been part of it. They’ve felt the energy of the river. They know the cycles and the systems. They know how to treat the fish. They know where they came from, and they’ll have a wealth of passion and familiarity to pull from.”
Gloria Wolfe
Yakutat Culture Camp Director
“If you ever feel like one person can’t make a difference,” Gloria adds, “have you ever been in a tent with one mosquito?” Everyone laughs before heading to the river.
Matt Anderstrom and Eli Hanlon III, Food Sovereignty Program Coordinators with Yakutat Tlingit Tribe, greet their nieces and nephews by a folding table on the river’s edge. Salmon knock the net, anchored perpendicular to the current and Eli and Matt take turns teaching Jackson Wolfe how to patiently pick hundreds of sockeye before delivering them onshore. George, Ellaina, Carson, Chris and Seth unload, head, gut, backbone and carefully add salmon roe to a nearby bucket for more than five hours with their uncle’s steady watchful eye and guidance. Elders onlook, beaming with pride beside dozens of eagles perched like sentinels on massive spruce washed ashore by past storms. The sun slips through a crack in the clouds like a curtain being pulled back on a stage. A spotlight falls on the cutting table. The Situk laps at the kids’ ankles. George puts on a playlist to “set the right vibe.” The cousins and friends assume an ancient rhythm, set to contemporary beats.
“Many times this cycle has happened—many, many times,” Ralph says. “Maybe in different smokehouses, and everybody says something a little different, but it’s all the same in the end, right? Catch, brine, dry fish, seal oil, smiling and laughing around the table through good times and bad times—this is what heals us.”
Ensuring these rhythms continue for another ten thousand years is a heavy responsibility today’s teachers feel tugging on their shoulders.
“The responsibility of sharing Tlingit culture is far more than passing along stories or skills. It is the work of carrying forward thousands of years of refined brilliance, systems of emotional intelligence, balance, and reciprocity that differ profoundly from Western frameworks,” says Gloria.
Across the region from Kasaan to Yakutat, Culture Camps teach much more than skills.
Camps teach patience—kids learning to turn each piece of dry fish, feeling for tiny bones and removing them one by one. They teach respect—little ones carry plates to elders, making sure they eat first. They teach intentionality—ensuring at least one piece of belly meat finds its way into every jar for richness, fat, and protection against overcooking.
“This process is something we’ve been doing on this land for thousands of years,” Ralph tells the kids. “It’s something we’re going to keep doing for thousands more. But it’s got to be you guys who pick it up and carry it. We aren’t going to be here forever. When we’re all on Ankhau (local gravesite), it’s going to be you.”
From the outside, it can be easy to see Culture Camp as a series of workshops—adults teaching children. But if you look closely, you can feel the weight and responsibility of leadership starting to settle onto the shoulders of older campers.
During a break in instruction, one of the cabins is shaking with drums and singing—so loud and confident you’d assume an adult was leading. Instead, Jackson, George, Kylie, and Chooneit hold little Henry and practice songs alone on the skin drums they just stretched. Kylie scoops up baby Julian, the littlest camper, and pulls him into the circle. “Maybe someday I’ll be a mentor to him, too”, Jackson says. Kylie lifts him to her hip and all four generations drum and sing – the wide-eyed babies soak it all in.
These young people are beginning to grasp the weight and beauty of what is being entrusted to them. One day soon, they will be lead ambassadors of this way of life and the cultural values embedded within, champions for the lands and waters that sustain them, and caretakers of one another, as relatives, in a shared future.
Yakutat Culture Camp is an event of Yakutat Tlingit Tribe, supported in 2025 by Sealaska, Central Council Tlingit Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska, Tlingit & Haida Head Start, Ocean Conservancy, Yakutat Seafoods, Senior Center, Yakutat Kwaan, City and Borough of Yakutat, Yakutat School District, and Yakutat Community Corporation
