I shot the following videos at Lake Azabache and in Bistrinsky Nature Park in central Kamchatka during a mid-July trip with my colleague Igor Goldfarb.
Here you can see a spawning stream filled with sockeye salmon as they complete the final leg of their journey to the spawning grounds. When I took this video, these fish had already traveled from the ocean, up two rivers, across a lake, and up several miles of this stream. The white fish have already spawned, and are beginning to die. The media portrays post-spawn salmon mortality as a romantic sacrifice, but the truth is far more gruesome: after completing their “duty,” the salmon literally begin to fall apart. The upshot is that the nutrients the salmon bring to Kamchatka’s rivers feed entire villages, an enormous population of bears, and even fertilizes the surrounding forest. (more…)
Back in July, Igor and I went to visit a partner who conducts anti-poaching patrols in the Nalichego Nature Park, not far from Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. We had to take a boat to his home within the park and, after a day-long tour, rode back to the truck to head home. As we turned a corner we saw the following image:
Right there, in the middle of a federal park on waters where any fishing equipment beyond a spinning rod is banned, we caught two men stringing a net across the mouth of a key spawning river.
I realized just how complacent poachers can be on Kamchatka, but it also revealed how a little support in the right places can significantly ameliorate the problem. Our partner in this park will likely catch several similarly complacent poachers this season. And if we can find more committed partners like him to conduct similar work, we can show poachers that their illegal work will not be tolerated by the locals who care the most about healthy salmon populations.
I have never seen so many insects in my life. Tiny black flies, quarter-sized mosquitoes and enormous horseflies competed to distract Tatiana Indanova as she crouched at the edge of a spring-fed creek in the 90-degree afternoon heat, using one hand to collect aquatic insect larvae, or benthos, while swatting the biting insects with her free hand.
Tatiana is a 21 year old college student and member of the Even tribe from the remote, indigenous town of Anavgai, where she is universally known as “Tanyushka.” Many college students Tanya’s age would look forward to spending their summers in dance clubs or at a lakeshore resort or pretty much anywhere but a mosquito-infested wilderness crawling with bears. But for the third consecutive summer Tanya is using her free months to mount one- and two-week expeditions to remote waterways in Bistrinsky Natural Park on Russia’s Kamchatka Peninsula, where she collects samples of aquatic insect life that she later analyzes at her university’s laboratory to detect changes in water quality. Tanya’s project is supported by a grant from the Lach Ethno-Ecological Information Center, which conducts an annual minigrants competition with Pacific Environment aid. I was fortunate enough to accompany Tanya on the first of this year’s expeditions, which had us visit a reindeer herders’ camp, cross high mountain passes, camp at a riverside fishing village, swim in natural hot springs, and twice get chased by bears. (more…)
Kolya is the kind of boss that everyone at once prays they will have and dreads they will end up with. As a leader he is nearly flawless; knowledgeable, experienced, and deadly calm under pressure. As a teacher, he is all of these things, but also impatient, short-tempered, and sarcastic.
Kolya is the indigenous Even hunter and mountain man who led me, Tatiana Indanova, a PE partner who monitors water quality, two Muscovite botanists, his son Zhenya, and a local friend on a week-long expedition through the Kamchatka wilderness to conduct Indanova’s water quality monitoring project, collect samples of Kamchatka’s flora, and find some escaped reindeer.
From day one, I knew what kind of leader Kolya would be: as we packed our belongings into our saddlebags, I found myself standing around, unsure how to pack and not wanting to get in the way. As Kolya packed some of my things, he stopped for a moment to pull off his jacket. “Too hot?” I asked, hoping to strike up a conversation. “Yeah,” he replied with a grin, but looking me dead in the eyes, “because I’m not just standing around.” I still chuckle when I remember how he scolded his son’s friend for pulling in a net too slowly: “Pull harder, dammit, you’re not undressing a girl!” (more…)
The Day of the Reindeer Herder for the first time received the status of an official holiday in Kamchatka on the Kamchatka peninsula. The holiday was celebrated on March 6, 2010 in the indigenous village of Esso.
Pacific Environment’s Kamchatka Field Associate Igor Goldfarb visited Esso with his wife Alla, and they have recorded their impressions below:
The first thing that we noticed was the enormous number of people that came to celebrate. The entire area – part of a helicopter landing pad – was full of people; men and women, the elderly and lots of children. We later learned that many of them, like us, made the 500 kilometer trip from Petropavlovsk to attend the celebrations.
There were also guests from other villages to the north and we even met a few Muscovites who work as volunteers in Bystrinsky Park.
We were able to get to know the northern reindeer and discovered that it is a relatively small animal with beautiful dark, expressive eyes. Visitors were able to pet them and photograph them nearby.
Later the races began, and spectators lined the fences as the reindeer sleds and their drivers prepared themselves for the start. At the referee’s signal, the sleds shot off the starting line, raced past the spectators in a cloud of white snow, and were soon hidden behind the white hills.
The event continued with performances by national ensembles, including organizations of both children and adults that danced to live song and tambourine and accordion music. The performances were so bright and energetic that neither the performers nor the spectators ever stopped smiling.
Nearby, traditional venison soup was prepared over the pleasant smell of an open fire, and all were invited to sample the delicacy.
My recent trip to Altai is proof that life imitates art. Just a few days before leaving the US I watched the film “Everything is Illuminated.” Even if you’ve never seen it, you know the plot: a mismatched cast of characters (an octogenarian Ukrainian anti-Semite, his hip-hop obsessed playboy grandson, a shy young American Jew, a deranged dog) embark on a road trip to an unlikely place (the Ukrainian countryside) and adventure (and illumination) ensues. In my case, the characters include an American GIS expert visiting Russia for the first time, two native-rights activists from Kamchatka, and a flamboyant military veteran turned professional driver. We have spent our days crammed into a van with all of our luggage and supplies, traveling across windswept tundra and over frozen mountain passes, spending our evenings in a three-room cabin with no running water and no heat beyond a wood stove. In between work-related discussions and meetings with local conservationists, we have had adventures ranging from a visit to an Altai shaman who interpreted our dreams to a swimming excursion in weather more fit for skiing.
Last Sunday, the penultimate of our ten days in Kamchatka, was ostensibly a rest day. Everyone was eager to relax and enjoy the glorious surroundings that we had spent the last week helping to preserve in countless meetings, seminars, and strategy sessions. We initially planned to spend the entire day traversing a local park on Nordic skis, but two of our local colleagues suggested over dinner on Saturday that we instead try our hands at dog sledding at the home of two members of a local native community organization. (more…)
On 16 November 2009 a panel of Kamchatkan activists from the Lach Ethno-Ecological Information Center awarded first, second, and third prizes in a photography contest held during this summer’s salmon spawning season. The panel selected 34 finalists from 70 entries addressing the topic “The salmon in the life of the native peoples of Kamchatka” before whittling the group down to three winners. The top three submissions are displayed after the jump. All 34 finalists can be viewed here.
David Gordon and I spent the last few days at the Wild Salmon Center’s annual “Sustainable Salmon Fisheries in the Russian Far East” conference in Portland. Still in my first month on the job, I boarded the plane last Sunday both excited and anxious. I was thrilled at the opportunity to meet my American and Russian colleagues and learn from their experience, but I was also nervous to be a neophyte among so many respected and experienced conservationists.
In recent weeks, we have lost two shining stars of Russia’s conservation movement. On Thursday, Robert Savelievich Moiseev passed away, one day after his 70th birthday. Robert Savelievich was the director of the Kamchatka Branch of the Pacific Institute of Geography, part of the Russian Academy of Sciences.
Robert Savelievich’s vision of sustainable development for Kamchatka and the North Pacific was truly extraordinary. Meeting with Robert Savelievich was always a pleasure that would result in expanding my worldview. He had a deep and complex understanding of sustainable development, based on his background as an economist and a patriot of Kamchatka and the North Pacific. He immediately understood the value of international connections; his vision was truly North-Pacific wide, as he understood the ties between Kamchatka and Alaska. He was one of the primary drivers behind the ideas for the International Bering Sea Forum, which brought together community members from both sides of the Bering Sea.
Robert Savelievich believed that Kamchatka could prosper only if it could sustainably manage its renewable resources, particularly its fisheries. He worked with us to demonstrate the value of Kamchatka’s salmon economy. He thought that Kamchatka’s economic priorities – which now appear to favor oil over fisheries – were terribly misplaced. His vision, though, was always frustrated by government officials who failed to have the long-term vision that Robert Savelievich championed. It’s particularly tragic that proposals to drill for oil off of western Kamchatka are moving forward at the same time that Robert Savelievich has passed away.
Most of all, though, I will remember Robert Savelievich as a mentor with an incredibly keen wit, golden tongue, and sharp mind. I remember once attending a public hearing on mining issues in Kamchatka, at which Robert Savelievich spoke. He spoke directly after a representative from the mining company. Robert Savelievich had the amazing ability – well-developed through the Russian scientific dialectic – to “dress down” whoever had spoken immediately prior to him. With an amazing economy of words, he showed the gaping flaws in the arguments of the mining company and went on to offer a vision for Kamchatka far beyond what anyone could imagine. I remember thinking to myself that I never wanted to speak directly after Robert Savelievich!
Robert Savelievich’s vision and leadership will be sorely missed, but I am hopeful that his vision for Kamchatka and the North Pacific will live on through his writings, his colleagues, and his family – and through those of us who will continue to promote a vision of sustainable development for the North Pacific.
Another shining star of the Russian conservation movement who passed away in late November is Boris Konstantinovich Shibnev, at the amazing age of 89. Boris Konstantinovich led an incredible life, having been born just a year after the Russian Revolution. He had read the works of Arseniev (the Russian analogue of John Muir) who wrote about his travels through the amazing nature of the Russian Far East (for those interested in his work, I recommend the Akira Kurosawa film “Dersu Uzala”). After being demobilized from the Russian Navy in 1939, Boris Konstantinovich moved to the Bikin River watershed in northern Primorsky Region.
Boris Konstantinovich was a fierce defender of the Bikin, a roadless area of 3 million acres with an amazing collection of subtropical biodiversity that is rare to find in such a northern area. He led scientific expeditions, was a teacher who gained great respect among the indigenous Udege people, and led early non-governmental efforts. I met Boris Konstantinovich in 1992 during my first visit to the Russian Far East. He had created a natural history museum in his home in the village of Verkhny Pereval. His passion and commitment to the Bikin watershed was contagious. At the time, the Bikin was under threat from Hyundai Corporation, which wanted to log the upper headwaters. We helped launch an international campaign that helped protect these forests from loggers.
These two stars of the Russian conservation movement will be warmly remembered – and our partners will be working to continue their traditions by protecting Russia’s most important wilderness areas and by promoting a sustainable vision for the region.
Posted by Evan Sparling
s they will have and dreads they will end up with. As a leader he is nearly flawless; knowledgeable, experienced, and deadly calm under pressure. As a teacher, he is all of these things, but also impatient, short-tempered, and sarcastic.
Posted by Evan Sparling%20copy.jpg)
Another shining star of the Russian conservation movement who passed away in late November is Boris Konstantinovich Shibnev, at the amazing age of 89. Boris Konstantinovich led an incredible life, having been born just a year after the Russian Revolution. He had read the works of Arseniev (the Russian analogue of John Muir) who wrote about his travels through the amazing nature of the Russian Far East (for those interested in his work, I recommend the Akira Kurosawa film “Dersu Uzala”). After being demobilized from the Russian Navy in 1939, Boris Konstantinovich moved to the Bikin River watershed in northern Primorsky Region. 
