The month of August was when MacKenzie Englishoe returned home to a home she’s never lived in.
Englishoe is twenty years old and a student at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. As summer ended she packed her bags and hopped on a plane with nine passengers for the flight of an hour to her hometown of mother: Gwichyaa Zhee, also called Fort Yukon, a village that is home to less than 500 people located on the east side of Yukon River. The goal is to relocate to the area permanently.
“I think I’ve waited all my life to return here and join my neighborhood,” Englishoe said.
For Englishoe this change has been a long being. Her family’s roots have been at Gwichyaa Zhee for generations, however, Englishoe herself was raised with her father and brother in the vicinity of Chandalar Lake, in a remote area within the Brooks Range. She relocated to Fairbanks at the age of twelve to go to the school. However, she visited frequently. Gwichyaa Zhee is where she is most at home.
Much like the rest of the community, Englishoe is Gwich’in. She was raised with a deep connection to the land at the cabin her father owned close to Chandalar Lake, trapping and hunting at the age of a child. However, she feels she was not within the village, and with her fellow villagers.
“I would like to have some more of a relationship with Gwichyaa Zheeat the time my younger years,” she said.
Now that she’s back she’s making up the lost time.
Gwichyaa Zhee sits on a smooth, dirt road network which run along the Yukon River. The speed allowed is 15 miles per hour. The majority of people congratulate each other when they drive by.
“Everybody here is friendly to one others,” Englishoe said, walking through the city after her arrival. “We’re basically everyone’s relatives here.”
When she is running errands and errands around, she comes through relatives and older people in an local AC store, at the post office, and at the open houses at the school.
“I’m back and I’m going to be a good girl,” she told each one of them with pride.
However, Gwichyaa Zhee today is very different from the small town she was an infant.
The entire life of the Yukon used to revolve around salmon. First kings arrived late June and would swim through into the Yukon River from the Bering Sea to their breeding grounds. Chum salmon would arrive in the late the summer. Both species have been fighting for years. Then, in 2004 the rivers collapsed abruptly with less fish ever before coming back into the Yukon River. Federal and state fishery managers have almost closed fishing for local communities such as Gwichyaa Zhee ever since.
Researchers claim that that climate changes are the main reason behind the collapse of the river, as rising and ocean temperatures create destruction on the biology of salmon and predator species. Residents say it’s made life here unrecognizable. For Englishoe this means that she’s not able to take part in the same tradition and culture that she was brought home to learn.
On the banks of the Yukon River, at the city’s edge It’s peaceful. This isn’t what August was to be like. Englishoe said.
“Everyone could be getting onto boats to go to the fishing camp or visit one another, or offering fish to one another and smoking fish together,” she explained.
Today, along the riverbank, a dozen fish wheels are sat idle in what Englishoe refers to as”the “fish wheel cemetery.”
Twenty feet in length The fish wheels appear like huge windmills, complete with nets designed to catch fish from the river while they move upstream.
“You can tell they’re a bit old and perhaps a little weaker,” Englishoe said, digging through the thick grass that was growing through the nets.
As she sat on one of the wheels that fell over she pondered the way it was fishing was permitted.
“You are probably sitting in this spot and simply watch the nets capture the fish.” Englishoe said. “I think my grandpa was looking at it with a smile and knowing the fish would be fed with food for the winter months.”
The story of Gwichyaa Zhee, salmon are more than just a food item -they’re a part of the culture and community.
The Englishoe’s father Michael Peter is second chief of Gwichyaa Zhee. He stated that fishing camp is the way young people establish a bond with their family and heritage. It’s an important aspect of passing down customs.
“You take your children to the park to teach them and teach them the things we were taught,” Peter said. “We were taught to cut and preserve fish and smoking fish.”
Peter has children of his own, who haven’t gone to fishing camp for a long time. He is concerned that the knowledge of his generation is being lost to the next generation, and that includes young people such as Englishoe.
“She’s still learning the process of cutting a fish. She hasn’t been to a fishing camp,” Peter said.
“I would love to go fishing,” Englishoe said.
As a young girl Englishoe wasn’t around long enough to master a wheel for fishing and to catch salmon by herself. Now that she’s living full-time, Englishoe worries she never will.
Every generation before her has been fishing on this river. It’s now her turn, and she’s not able to.
“It’s very difficult,” she said. “I think I’m not a part of me.”
This loss has created the conviction. Englishoe stated that she has a duty to save her community from threats that are threatening its existence such as climate change. She’s been a tireless campaigner for justice in climate change as well as Indigenous rights. She’s an Arctic Youth Ambassador, a program run by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service that aids young Alaskans increase awareness of issues within their communities. In spring, she was selected as an emerging leader for The Tanana Chiefs Conference.
She’s especially focused on battling for greater Alaska Native control over fishery management.
There’s a lot on her plate to advocate for the reduction of climate change and the expansion of tribal sovereignty. She’s thinking of the possibility of putting her undergraduate studies in the back of her mind to accept an opportunity in the village, where she’ll be mentoring young people.
“It’s difficult however, I’m glad to have done the job,” Englishoe said.”Because if our generation does not do it the way we want, there’s no way for anyone to take the fish back for the future. This is something we have to get going on right now.”
In a gloomy September morning, Englishoe sat with her grandfather, Sonny Jonas, at his table at home and an iced coffee. Pictures of their family stretching back generations are displayed on the walls of his wooden paneled home.
For a long time, Jonas taught kids in Gwichyaa Zhee how to fish and also how to make fish wheels. If Englishoe was born here or if fishing was accessible today, he’s person who taught her.
Jonas has witnessed changes in the climate that have transformed his view of the Yukon Flats, just in his life time. This isn’t only about salmon that is affected. Permafrost that is melting has caused homes to collapse. He claims the summers are incredibly warm.
“There’s lots of things that have changed around here, I’ll tell you about them,” Jonas said.
The changes are scary The changes are alarming, he said. But he believes in his daughter.
“I’m happy for what she’s doing at the moment,” Jonas said. “She’s determined to integrate to be part of our culture. I’m extremely happy for her.”
For Englishoe she’s still learning about the culture she grew up with, but she’s determined preserve it for herself and the next generation.
“That’s the reason why I returned. Because I’m convinced that this is the place I’m supposed to be and to have a family in the future,” she said. “And do to give them an opportunity to live a better life.”
