01x13 - Tragedy of the Red Salmon

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Kodiak Island,
near the Alaskan Peninsula.

Divers and filmmakers of the Calypso
have come to these northern waters

to observe and record for
the first time in history

the complete saga of the perilous
migration of the red sockeye salmon.

After surviving four years of danger
and adventure far out in the open sea,

these dauntless fish will
now meet new perils

as they heed an irresistible call

to return to the fresh
waters of their birth.

Tracked by the men of the Calypso,
the salmon are coming home to spawn.

A series of incredible
challenges await the salmon

as they seek their way through
an often hostile wilderness.

But Calypso cameramen will
find them determined travelers

as they follow the tragic odyssey
of their punishing journey home.

For the red sockeye salmon,

the long journey home
begins in Alga Bay

and will take them through Alaska's
vast Kodiak Island wilderness

all the way up the Salmon
River to remote Fraser Lake.

It was in the headwaters
of the Salmon River

and the feeder streams of Fraser Lake

that they were born five years before,

and it is to Fraser Lake that the
salmon must now return to spawn.

Beset by natural obstacles
and predators,

for the salmon it will be a tortuous
and perilous journey upstream.

It is also a journey that at one
time no salmon ever traveled.

The hands of man carefully planted
fertilized salmon eggs in this lake,

which since the beginning of the world

had never seen the presence of
even a single one of these fish.

In populating the lake,

man raises himself
to the level of a god

and thus becomes responsible
for the lives that begin here.

In Fraser Lake, for one year
they would build their strength,

then embark on their
great voyage to the ocean.

After four years at sea,
they return to spawn.

And man, the prime predator,
is waiting for them.

Maths and science prematurely
end the journey

for one out of four of these
homeworld travelers.

Modern fishing methods are
becoming frightfully efficient

and could soon endanger the species.

Support must be given to
fish and game scientists

who are experimenting
with various methods

to help restore this magnificent
bounty of the sea.

We of the Calypso enter Alaskan
waters with the spring run of salmon.

We are trying to understand
better the life of the salmon,

including their mystifying return
from thousands of miles at sea.

Some believe the salmon
have a sun compass mechanism.

Maybe they are able to sense magnetic
fields and the rotation of the earth.

Recently, scientists have suggested

that the salmon might also be
sensitive to variations in gravity,

which are imprinted in their memories
to help them find their way home.

Yet, masters in precise navigation,
they are unable to avoid man's traps.

Bernard Delemotte gives
the salmon freedom.

But the salmon's drive is so strong to
return to the mouth of his native river

that he swims right back into the net.

From the open sea,

the salmon has traveled untiringly


to reach this point.

Those that got away, the red
salmon that escaped the nets,

will now be followed by Cousteau's
team of divers and filmmakers

as the fish make their way
toward the Salmon River.

Now they would record the results

of the experimental egg
planting at Fraser Lake.

The completion of the cycle
begun five years before.

Into the wilderness area,
my men look for a run of salmon.

Like all Pacific salmon, theirs is
a once-in-a-lifetime migration,

and they will spawn only once.

This sets them apart from most other
fish and has long intrigued us.

Salmons cool where fresh water mixes
with salt water from the inland bay.

They swim back and forth to become
acclimated to the fresh water.

Here, they begin to lose some of
their blue-back deep-sea coloration

and go through a physiological
change before they rush upriver.

They follow the fish on a zodiac,
which runs into a rocky riverbed,

and horsepower is
replaced by manpower.

Bernard Delemotte is first to fall
victim to the vicious arctic mosquito,

while Yves Omer hasn't
yet found his land legs.

The expedition is an unusual
treat for our men of the Calypso.

As much as they love the ocean,

they have missed the mountains,
grass, the feel of the ground.

Soon, the first signs that tragedy
travels with the salmon.

Halfway between the entrance of
the river and the waterfall ahead,

these fish have dropped behind,
wounded by the nets,

which continue to take their toll.

The men report to Cousteau,
now en route to the Bering Sea.

Guy, the Calypso's radio man,
asks how they are.

Bernard answers that even
public enemy number one

could not be worse than
the flies and mosquitoes.

Cousteau wants to know
if Yves has begun to film

the upstream migration
of the red salmon.

They have seen a school assembling,

and they will now get ready to film
their grand rush toward the lake.

Plagued by mosquitoes
and on the watch for bears,

of which there are 2,500
browns on Kodiak Island,

the team approaches the rapids where
the salmon have been assembling.

Well short of their goal,

the migrating salmon
are suddenly stopped

by tier after tier
of forbidding rocks.

Beneath the sixty foot falls
there are thousands of salmon

waiting their turn to jump.

Reaching them presents a
unique challenge to Yves Omer,

underwater cameraman
now become aerialist.

The current here is overpowering.

The spring runoff from mountain snow
and ice packs is a frigid forty degrees.

It is almost like diving in the Arctic.

Albert Falco unties the
underwater camera.

Yves is now in a position to
attack the falls from the flank.

A generator will provide
sufficient light

to film an unprecedented
view of salmon in struggle.

Transformations in the fish have begun.

Bernard examines the teeth of a male.

They have started to grow
and will soon fiercely protrude.

The salmon's bodies are turning red,
their heads turning green.

The females are growing rounded,
distended with roe,

while the mouths of the males are
changing into hooked menacing snouts.

The extraordinary might
of the falls is unexpected

and for both fish and men,

the stunning impact of
pounding tons of ice water.

The salmon are now
fueled by stored fats.

They have not eaten since
they entered fresh water

and they will never eat again

for the entire agonizing
completion of their life's mission.

Bernard Delemotte and Yves
Omer work into the night,

hour after hour, in the icy
water that freezes divers,

even through foam rubber suits.

But more and more, they are
becoming personally involved

in the ordeals of the courageous fish.

The salmon rest by night.

Tomorrow's to come
will reveal their fate.

The Calypso expedition
team sets up camp

at the base of the 60-foot falls

because it is here that the
migrating salmon have been delayed.

In the Kodiak Island wilderness,

the trick is to get up
before the mosquitoes

and perhaps a fire with authority
will help keep them at their distance.

If one is to bathe in this stream,
one must do so early,

for the arctic mosquitoes
will fly 35 miles for a meal

and they are particularly
fond of Bernard.

Bernard swims with sharks,
rides whales, tames moray eels,

but is defeated by mosquitoes.

Captain Cousteau is filming
walruses off St. Lawrence Island.

Now they must contact him to let him
know they have stopped at the falls

instead of going on to the lake.

Bernard reports that
they have begun to film

the growing concentration of salmon

and their incredible
attempt to clear the falls.

The divers have problems handling
underwater cameras and lights

in the overwhelming current.

I could not help abandoning my
walruses, at least temporarily,

to observe the salmon at first hand.

What teases the mind of the scientists

is how the salmon can make
such magnificent leaps

from such a shallow basin.

Captain Cousteau calculates
that to jump 6 feet high,

the salmon must leave the
water at about 25 kilometers,

or 15 and a half miles per hour.

How can they generate so much
momentum with so little space?

They will visit the base of the falls
and Bernard will have to investigate.

School children learn that
salmon are instinctively driven

to return to where they were born.

But when you actually
see their determination,

when you touch the difficulties,
then you just can't believe it.

The wall of water and stone that
confronts these resolute fish

is absolutely awesome.

So as not to be swept away
by the overpowering current,

Bernard must add a
rock to his weight belt.

A moment between man and fish.

Then with superb
hydrodynamic efficiency,

we see the salmon
live up to his name,

Salmo the leaper.

Bernard reports on the
salmon's ability to jump.

The wall of water falling among the
rocks creates a strong turbulence.

In this turmoil, each time a backwash
swirls in the proper direction,

the salmon takes advantage
of it and leaps out.

Now Cousteau understands

that in spite of the fact that the salmon
have little room to gain momentum,

it is the use of the backwash that
enables them to break surface

at 15 to 20 miles per hour.

But the fish jump in vain.

When in Fraser Lake,
man gave them birth,

he did not take into account
the enormity of the falls.

And those that revive
return to the falls

in a futile attempt to try them again.

What is unbelievable to Cousteau is
that the fish are so strongly obligated

to return to the place they were born,

when they could as
well mate downstream.

But no, they persist, he says,
they refuse to yield,

they mutilate themselves,

commit suicide to reach their
spawning grounds upstream.

In his desire to populate the lake,
man was well intentioned,

but he has wrought a tragic change
in the orderly course of nature.

A once valiant leaper
returns to the sea.

The plan to fertilize Fraser Lake

provided for the building
of a fish ladder,

a step pass 190 feet high,

to allow the salmon to surmount
the falls and reach the lake.

But fish ladders are
rarely totally successful.

To provide a gradual ascent,

the ladder was set back
to one side of the falls,

making it difficult for the salmon to
find the entrance without assistance.

The Calypso team helps officials of the
Alaskan Department of Fish and Game

as they draw nets of
confused homing salmon

toward the entrance of the step pass.

If the return is delayed too long,

they will die here without
fulfilling their purpose.

The journey up the ladder
will be a very tough one

against a formidable current.

How alien this metal and
concrete box must be.

The fact that fish can accept this
totally unnatural environment

shows the strength of
their drive to return.

They must be frightened all the way,

but still they go on

because they sense that this is
the only path to reach their goal.

Among the sockeye
is a stray pink salmon,

recognizable by the hump on his back.

He's come home with the wrong salmon.

After the difficult ascent,

freedom from the
ladder and from the falls.

And now the magisterial
procession upstream.

For Cousteau's crew,
there's a sense of freedom too

as they follow what they
now consider their salmon

on their way once again
toward Fraser Lake.

Several hours past the waterfall,

damaged by large predators.

For the salmon, there seem
to be more perils in store.

The bald eagle is an
endangered species,

its habitat reduced by those who
care more for eagles on coin

than eagles on the wing.

Although to some,
the eagle's a bird of prey,

to its own, it's a good provider.

And another life cycle is served.

With salmon in the river,

predators come in
many sizes and species,

from the fox to the Kodiak K*llers,

leaving behind a trail
of mangled salmon.

And there they are.

The giant Kodiaks have come
down from the mountains

in their annual pilgrimage to the
rivers, swarming with salmon.

The big browns usually
try to avoid man,

but the female,
when she has cubs to protect,

is a dangerous adversary.

The Kodiak is a direct descendant of
the huge cave bears of the Stone Age.

Standing as tall as 10 feet,

weighing up to 1,800 pounds,

he is the largest bear in existence,

even larger than the grizzlies.

He fishes haphazardly for
he's extremely nearsighted,

and it is often by guesswork
that he catches a salmon.

We are the intruders.

The bear is in his rightful
place here in the wilderness,

inherited from his ancestors.

For the bear, food is here plentiful,
and he wastes a lot,

as often happens when
there is abundance at hand.

As the spawners run the
gauntlet, the toll is heavy.

Eggs that will never hatch,
cast off too soon.

Cousteau's men continue
on toward Fraser Lake,

the stream alive with
migrant survivors.

At Red Lake, to the northwest,

men from the Alaskan Department
of Fish and Game are moving fish

endlessly striving to increase
the natural productivity

of Kodiak Island's
river and lake system.

Spawners newly arrived from the
sea are to be transported by air

to a nearby lake that was totally
depopulated by man's greed.

The question is whether or not
displaced salmon will accept new homes.

Since they are beginning
to grow heavy with roe,

they will have no choice but to seek out
the proper, pure, oxygenated streams

that feed the other lake.

And when they have the
urge to spawn, they will do so.

This cannery's nets had
captured all the salmon

trying to reach their lake to spawn.

After five years, there were no more
fish, and the cannery had to close.

During the spring run of salmon,

the seaplane shuttles back
and forth 20 times a day,

transporting 5,000 fish a week.

And the lake lives again.

Upon arrival at Fraser Lake,

Cousteau's men of the deep
are challenged by the shallows.

On their long voyage to the lake,

from which they now seek
their specific streams,

red salmon have undergone
extended stress,

and they have used up most of
the food they carry within them.

They too are victims of the shallows.

Back at the falls,
they could jump 10 feet.

Here, they can hardly negotiate
a simple one-foot weir.

Now it is the odors remembered
from plants and minerals

dissolved in their natal streams
that guide the salmon.

They follow their noses home.

The time for spawning is close at hand.

A male and female enter
their stream together.

But a new obstacle confronts them,

a spot so dry their
gills are out of water.

They must return to
the lake for oxygen.

Theirs is a single-minded
obsession to mate upstream,

after which they will remain faithful.

The male manages to cross the dry spot.

He stops to rest in a clogged area.

The female has been left behind.

Downstream the female
is alone and beached.

Now the male returns
to find the female.

She's too confused and
weak to get off the rocks.

The magpie waits.

The male leans on one
side to wet his gills

for life-sustaining oxygen
and tries to reach her.

The female aborts her eggs and dies.

The magpie finds her feed.

The male continues his attempts
to reach the female's side.

The male approaches the
body of his companion,

then passes death and struggles
back to reach the lake.

As for the dead companion left behind,

the mood and the season were upon her,

but not the place.

Now that the weakened and unfulfilled
male will try to mate with another,

if he can reach the spawning grounds.

Fraser Lake, where once
there were no salmon,

now populated with the
artificially propagated fish,

come home to spawn.

At the spawning grounds,
Falco makes observations

as Yves Omer ingeniously operates his
underwater camera by remote control

so as not to encroach on the
ritual as the salmon select mates.

The male's teeth now protrude
in permanent snarls

from their hooked snouts.

As in the presence of the females,
they circle and size up each other,

preliminary to a ferocious
battle for mates.

The ferocity of the fights are more
to impress the rival than to k*ll him.

In nature, it is almost nonexistent

that males fight to the death
for the possession of the female.

They could be wiser than men.

A loser swims off into the shallows,

and the winner claims his prize,

only to get a final bite on
the tail from the hard loser.

With rounded head and
body heavy with roe,

the female initiates
the circling love dance.

The rites of spawning have begun.

It's time to contact
Cousteau on the Calypso,

which has been through
a storm in the Bering Sea.

Bernard reports that they
are now at Canyon Creek,

and Yves has begun to film
the spawning of the salmon.

Cousteau asks if they are still running
into trouble with mosquitoes and flies.

Bernard says that while
these salmon are spawning,

the flies seem to be occupied with
other salmon k*lled by the bears.

Cousteau says to be
careful with the bears,

and that he's coming
for the spawning.

I am back at Fraser Lake to witness the
dénouement of our salmon's drama.

Nature's way of procreation
is through overabundance.

That's why these hardy
creatures are able to return

in even these decimated ranks.

Out of 5,000 eggs laid by a female,



and of these only 50
will reach the ocean.

After four years of
open sea adventures,

a mere 30 survivors
will try to return home.

Of these, 10 will be caught by
fishermen and five by predators.

Fewer than 10 will reach
the spawning ground.

As the elected ones dash
forward for their last test,

we salute the epic travelers
at the term of their odyssey.

It is nature's wisdom
rather than tragedy.

The strongest have survived to spawn

and live on through their progeny,

thus continually improving the species.

Now Cousteau's filmmaking team is ready
to photograph the spawning ritual.

Special camera rigs are set
up for a unique film record.

The ceremony begins
with courtship circling,

interrupted by occasional
bursts of rivalry.

A female protects her
chosen nesting area,

and the love dance continues.

Obsessed by sexual purpose,

the female is ready to dig her nest
with powerful thrusts of her broad tail.

La Ronde, prelude to egg laying.

A female lays some of her eggs
before cutting another nest.

The male fertilizes them.

His orgasm is a strong, visible shadow.

A female passes under her mate,

brushing his body,

inciting him to fertilize her eggs.

And for all the spawning salmon,
the process is repeated.

This is the final reward
for the agonizing trip.

A few days of supreme excitement.

After the nuptial feast,
they will be ready for death.

In a special enclosure,

the rapid deterioration of a
salmon couple after spawning

is being observed closely by Yves
Omer and biologist Ben Drucker.

You notice, Yves, that the fish have
quite a different appearance now

than when we saw them last time.

Their bodies are starting to turn white,
and they're losing their pigment.

The female's tail, if you notice,
is quite devoid of color,

and the caudal fin is frayed.

It's starting to break down,

and this is primarily due
to her digging of the nest

where she uses her tail
to dig out the gravel.

The male, his tail is
starting to change also,

but this is just a breakdown in pigment,
which they both actually have also.

You also see it on the dorsal
surface, by their dorsal fin,

is starting to turn white.

Because of all the cuts and
the bruises and the fighting

that these fish have to endure,

it's very easy for bacteria
and fungi to attack the fish.

And on the male, you see where the
male's head is starting to turn white.

This is a fungus that has attacked it.

Of course, these fish
will not live very long.

They have a very short life
period after they spawn,

maybe as little as four days
to as long as about ten,

averaging about seven.

So another few days now,

these fish will be
completely broken down,

and soon the whole body
will be covered with fungus.

And then life is just about over.

Ben, do you know exactly why the
salmon are so quickly getting old?

No. Physiologists are
studying now the salmon,

and they hope possibly to get a clue
on why the salmon break down so fast.

And perhaps they can relate
this to the human being.

As a person gets older, of course,
his organs become less functional,

and the body kind of drops a bit.

So if they study salmon,
which die very fast after spawning

with the degeneration of the body,
perhaps they can get some clues.

The salmon's rapid deterioration
causes in two weeks

physiological changes that take
from 20 to 40 years in man.

Yes, we're observing
now the termination

of the life cycle of the salmon.

The female has died, and the male
will be dead in a few hours now.

He's taking his last breaths, really.

From dying salmon,
scientists are gaining insight

into such human diseases as
heart attacks and even cancer.

Significantly, it is the heart of
our hero that is the last to die.

This has been an almost
simultaneous and collective death

that provides in the
depths of the lake

a fantastic underwater
salmon graveyard.

But nature is self-balancing.

At once, stickleback
and trout come to feed.

Nutrients from the salmon's bodies
will also feed the plankton of the lake.

And in its turn,
the plankton will provide food

for the fry of our valiant red salmon,

now at rest, buried in
the deep waters of home.

It's a new day at the spawning
grounds of Fraser Lake.

The major participants in the spring
drama are now prepared to depart.

The expedition team will
return to the Calypso,

and the bears to their
mountain homes.

The gulls return to
the Gulf of Alaska,

and left behind is the
promise of the red salmon,

lying under the clean gravel
of fresh-flowing rivers.

In an expl*si*n of life,

aggressive young salmon will
jump down the waterfalls

and swim to the coast.

In the open sea, their
four-year, 4,000-mile journey

was until recently concealed.

But even in the ocean depth,

science is closing
in upon the salmon,

and opening additional opportunities
for fishermen of distant nations.

Soon, they will have
no safety anywhere.

Let us hope he will survive,
Salmon the Magnificent,

which the artist said is
how a fish should look.