When the boats have nowhere to go, a certain silence descends upon a fishing dock. It’s not quiet and serene. It’s the type that builds up in conversations that stray, empty fuel receipts, and partially consumed coffee. That silence has been growing louder along the working waterfronts of Oregon and Washington for years, and the cause is something that is taking place far below the surface.
Fish migrations throughout the Pacific Northwest are being altered by ocean warming in ways that are subtly destroying a generation-old way of life. When the fish are expected to arrive, the water is warmer than it should be. When they do show up, it’s usually in a completely different location. Commercial fleets’ ability to adjust is being hampered by a basic biological fact: fish do not bargain with the calendar. The seasons that commercial fleets have built their entire financial lives around are slipping.
The top 700 meters of the world’s ocean have warmed by about 1.5 degrees Fahrenheit since 1901, and the rate is increasing. That fraction of a degree is not a rounding error for fish. Once found consistently off the coasts of British Columbia and Washington, rockfish are now migrating northward toward Alaska, with some of them moving nearly 900 miles from their native habitats. As warming continues, albacore tuna—which have long anchored parts of the Pacific commercial fishery—are predicted to migrate north, possibly spending less time in the nearshore waters where fleets have traditionally caught them.
It’s difficult to ignore how much of this was anticipated and how little it altered the situation. According to research by ecologist Malin Pinsky of Rutgers University, fish in U.S. waters are relocating ten times more quickly than land-based species in response to warming oceans by simply moving to areas where the temperatures still suit them. There was always going to be a place for the math. It’s now touching down on the docks.
Studies have had difficulty fully capturing the compounding effects on the economy. According to a 2016 analysis by fisheries scientist Vicky Lam of the University of British Columbia, U.S. fishing earnings could drop by 11% by 2050 under high emissions scenarios. Even though it is a sobering figure, the regional concentration of damage may be underestimated. Tribal fishing rights are not transferred when a species, such as rockfish, migrates north. This isn’t an abstract economic change for the twenty Native American tribes in western Washington whose treaty-based fishing access is tied to particular historic grounds; rather, it’s a direct severing of a legal and cultural connection to place that no northward migration can follow.
Where the fish go is just one aspect of the disturbance. It has to do with when. Fleets calibrated to historical arrival windows are increasingly waiting for fish that arrive late, arrive in different concentrations, or don’t arrive at all in commercially viable numbers because warming waters disrupt the thermal cues that fish use to time their migrations. Processing facilities that are scheduled for regular runs either scramble or sit idle. Workers are not compensated. Investments in gear for particular species turn into costly wagers.
The fisheries permitting and quota system was designed for a more static ocean, which makes this especially challenging to manage. Because allocations are based on historical ranges, changing them necessitates a bureaucratic process that moves slowly compared to the rate at which species are actually moving. The management frameworks haven’t changed much, but the fish have.
The industry’s ability to adjust swiftly enough to weather this shift unscathed is still up for debate. Certain fleets may turn in the direction of species that are migrating north from warmer southern waters. However, switching target species necessitates retraining crews, changing equipment, and creating new markets for unfamiliar catch—none of which are quick or inexpensive. Many fishing families along the coast feel as though they are being asked to reinvent themselves using tools they do not yet have, for a future that no one has completely mapped out.
The Pacific Ocean is not going back to its former state. Now, the question is whether the communities that were established around its rhythms will be able to find new ones before the docks become permanently silent.
