How a Salmon Farm Disaster Exposed the Risks to the Pacific Ecosystem: Sustainable Eating and Ethical Harvesting Practices Part 3
- Lee
- Mar 22
- 7 min read
"I’m uncertain if this qualifies as a 911 emergency, but my husband and I are on our boat in Secret Harbor, and the central fish pen is collapsing. We’re not sure who to contact,” Jill Davenport explained to the 911 operator in Skagit County, located roughly a hundred miles north of Seattle, Washington. “My husband and I are on our boat in Secret Harbor, and the central fish pen is breaking apart. We’re not sure who to call.”
The operator sought clarification. “What do you mean by the middle fish pen?”
“In Secret Harbor on Cypress Island, there are three fish pens,” Jill explained calmly. “There’s a lot of equipment, like a forklift and generators, that could end up in the water. And we don’t see anyone around. This is massive, and the whole structure is buckling. The forklift looks like it’s about to go overboard.”
“Thank you for the information; we’re passing it along,” the operator assured her.
On that Saturday afternoon, August 19, 2017, the Davenports were en route to set crab pots off Cypress Island, a largely undeveloped area in Puget Sound, when they heard a loud clanking noise from one of the salmon farms. As they drew closer, they witnessed a thick chain dragging across the metal walkway connecting the ten cages that formed one of the farms. Alarmingly, the underside of a cage began to rise out of the water, its nets covered in a thick layer of mussels and kelp. Jill thought to herself, “When you see seaweed, something is seriously wrong.”
The farms, known as Sites 1, 2, and 3, comprised floating steel rafts connecting ten individual cages arranged in two rows. These net pens were secured by chains and ropes attached to concrete anchors at the seabed. Cooke Aquaculture, a Canadian company, had acquired these farms and others in Puget Sound just a year prior, aiming to expand its operations in the Pacific Northwest.
As the current dragged the entire assembly southward, threatening to dismantle the cages and their supporting structure, Jill recorded video footage of the alarming scene. While she couldn’t see the anchor lines breaking loose beneath the surface, it was evident that the farm was on the brink of collapse—a pivotal moment for salmon farming in Puget Sound.
The Historical Context of Salmon Farming
The salmon you see at your local seafood counter has far less to do with pristine environments than with the industrialization of food. Historically, wild salmon thrived in rivers along the Pacific and Atlantic coasts, playing a vital role in the lives of Indigenous peoples. Today, however, 90% of the salmon consumed in North America is farmed Atlantic salmon, with the remaining 10% primarily wild-caught Pacific salmon from Alaska, one of the few places where wild salmon are still fished commercially.
The rise of salmon farming in the Northwest endangers one of the last strongholds for wild salmon, which have already faced numerous threats over the centuries, including pollution, overfishing, and habitat destruction from industrialization.
Starting in the late 1700s during the Industrial Revolution, waste began to be dumped directly into rivers and streams, leading to a significant decline in the once-abundant salmon populations across Europe. By the mid-1800s, further reductions were caused by commercial fishing, alongside the construction of dams and mills that destroyed natural habitats and obstructed salmon migration routes. In recent decades, the climate crisis has exacerbated the situation, warming oceans and rivers, while industrial and municipal pollution has contaminated waterways. Additionally, deforestation and harmful chemicals like DDT have degraded habitats, and excessive overfishing has severely impacted wild salmon populations.
Over the past 40 years, a new peril has emerged: industrial-scale salmon farms established in delicate coastal areas along salmon migration paths. These farms utilize large cages suspended in the ocean, known as open-net farms, which were initially viewed as a solution to alleviate pressure on overfished wild stocks. However, they have introduced a new set of man-made risks. These floating feedlots have transformed salmon into one of the world’s most popular and affordable fish, contributing to a $20 billion global industry. In regions such as Asia, North America, the United Kingdom, and Europe, salmon has shifted from being a luxury item in restaurants or a special occasion dish to a staple in millions of meals daily. Just a decade ago, it surpassed tuna as the most favored fish in the American diet, ranking second only to shrimp in seafood consumption.
However, this increased availability and low cost come at a significant price. The salmon you find today is not the same as what past generations consumed; it is bred for rapid growth, raised in overcrowded pens, and fed a diet of processed pellets made from smaller fish and grains, often supplemented with chemicals. Industrial-scale farms in the coastal bays of Norway, Scotland, Chile, and Canada now house millions of salmon in these crowded cages. This new approach to salmon farming threatens the existence of wild populations.
Wild salmon are indicators of ecological health, requiring clean, cold water to survive. Salmon are considered a keystone species because their life cycle and behaviors have a significant and broad impact on the ecosystems they inhabit, helping to sustain various plant and animal populations.Their presence signals that the ecosystem is thriving; their decline indicates a significant shift in environmental conditions. The barrier between farmed cages and wild salmon is merely a net, allowing ocean currents to flow through. Excess feed, chemical residue and fecal matter form a layer of slime on the seabed below the farms, smothering marine life and plants, while diseases and parasites spread from crowded cages to wild populations.
A Race Against Time
About 15 minutes after Jill’s call, she spotted a worker nearby and called out to him. He confirmed he had contacted his supervisor, and help was on the way. Daniel Farias, the lone worker on-site, had alerted his manager about the buckling walkways and potential disaster.
When Sky Guthrie, the site manager, arrived, he quickly realized the situation was worse than Farias had described. Walkways were twisted, equipment was falling into the water, and the generator supplying electricity was perilously close to slipping in as well. Tension escalated as workers urgently attempted to stabilize the collapsing structure before it collided with the neighboring farms.
As the Davenports watched from their boat, tugboats arrived to assist. The Lindsey Foss maneuvered close to the pen, allowing workers to attach lines to the steel structure in an effort to pull it back into shape. The captain noted the clogged nets, transformed into massive sails by the current, further threatening the farm’s stability.
Despite the known risks of clogged nets, Cooke Aquaculture had failed to maintain the site properly, leading to this precarious situation. As the Davenports continued to observe, they received inquiries from emergency services, the state Department of Ecology, and the Coast Guard. Jill sensed the officials didn’t grasp the scale of the disaster or its environmental implications.
As night fell, workers struggled alongside tugboats to salvage what was left of the structure. Early the following morning, divers were dispatched to reattach the broken mooring chains, but the situation worsened, culminating in the eventual escape of tens of thousands of farmed salmon into Puget Sound.
Cultural Impact and Community Response
The Lummi Nation, the original inhabitants of Washington’s northern coast, recognized the immediate threat posed by the escaped Atlantic salmon. With salmon being central to their culture and livelihood, tribal leaders declared an emergency and urged fishermen to catch as many Atlantic salmon as possible to protect their native species.
While some state officials debated the impact of the escaped fish, the Lummi Nation’s call to action was clear. As tribal fishermen successfully captured thousands of Atlantic salmon, it became evident that the threat to wild salmon was significant.
Despite Cooke Aquaculture’s attempts to downplay the incident and shift blame to natural causes, the reality of the situation was undeniable. As the days passed, reports of escaped Atlantic salmon surfaced throughout Puget Sound, and evidence of disease in the captured fish raised alarms about the potential consequences for wild populations.
In the days following the collapse of the farm, hundreds of Atlantic salmon were caught in Puget Sound and its surrounding rivers and streams. Anglers reported seeing large groups of these fish swimming freely in the water. “They continue to gather in large schools close to the shore,” one angler noted. “It seems they prefer the sheltered bays.” Just ten fish were spotted near Lummi Island, located eight miles from the site of the collapse, while seals and eagles fed on the dead Atlantic salmon that had washed ashore along the coastline.
During a fishing outing at the mouth of the Nooksack River, situated north of Seattle and distant from Cypress Bay, Lummi fishermen captured dozens of Atlantic salmon that appeared to have been deformed or injured in the incident. Upon examination, some of these fish showed enlarged and discolored organs, indicating signs of disease—clear evidence of their status as invasive species threatening native salmon populations. In total, tribal fishers from the Lummi and Samish First Nations managed to catch 55,000 Atlantic salmon in a concerted effort to prevent these fish from entering the rivers and streams on their ancestral lands.
In the aftermath of the Cypress Island incident, Cooke Aquaculture came under intense scrutiny regarding its safety practices. To settle a lawsuit filed by local conservation nonprofits, the company agreed to pay $2.75 million, with part of the funds earmarked for projects aimed at protecting wild fish in Puget Sound. Additionally, Cooke committed to upgrading its remaining facilities prior to restocking its farms. In the aftermath, Cooke Aquaculture faced intense scrutiny over its practices. The company eventually settled a lawsuit with local conservation groups, agreeing to pay $2.75 million and improve its facilities. Additionally, the Washington Legislature moved to phase commerical farming of Atlantic salmon in out open-net pens by 2025. The reason cited is to mitigate potential genetic risks from interbreeding with escaped farmed fish. In January 2025, Washington State's Board of Natural Resources voted to ban all commercial finfish net-pen aquaculture in state waters. However, this is being met with growing opposition from lobbyists who are gaining support in Congress. California and Alaska already banned the practice. British Columbia is currently phasing in a ban to transition to floating closed containment and land-based aquaculture by 2029.
However, the repercussions of the Cypress Island collapse are expected to affect salmon populations for generations to come. Weeks later, Atlantic salmon were discovered as far as 130 miles south near Tacoma and 250 miles north near Vancouver Island in British Columbia. In several instances, these Atlantic salmon were found to have small native salmon in their stomachs, raising further concerns, especially since the mass escape coincided with the spawning season. The event served as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between industrial practices and environmental conservation, with the legacy of the incident likely to affect salmon for generations to come.
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