We Alaskans 11/15/98
By Doug Schneider
When Steve LaCroix came to Ketchikan in 1985 to dive for geoducks, this largest of all clams fetched about 20 cents a pound and a good day on the water might fetch him $80. Ten years later, the price had risen to 50 cents a pound. But that was just the beginning.
''Now we're looking at over $4 a pound for just the meat, and live ones have gone for double that,'' says LaCroix. ''So now there's a bit of this gold-rush mentality. Some people think they're going to get rich.''
Prices have surged because of an insatiable appetite for fresh seafood in Asia, particularly Japan and China. Despite current Asian economic woes, sushi lovers still pay top dollar for geoduck clams.
''A friend of mine just got back from Taipei and saw a geoduck there selling for $170 U.S. dollars,'' says Sitka diver Burgess Bauder.
Because of the high price on their heads -- make that necks --geoducks are suddenly attracting attention, and the industry finds itself at a crossroads.
''We used to just go out and fish and it wasn't a problem because there weren't that many people doing it,'' says LaCroix. ''But now there are a lot of people who want to do it, and we want the growth to occur in ways that don't hurt the stocks. So we're taking it upon ourselves to develop this fishery wisely from the beginning.''
Pronounced ''gooey-ducks,'' they are, quite simply, giant clams. The Nisqually Indians in what is now coastal Washington state, were the first to discover the firm, succulent meat of geoducks. The word itself means ''dig deep.''
Geoducks are found in muddy, sandy tidal bottoms from California north through British Columbia and Southeast Alaska. Averaging 4 pounds, monsters have tipped the scales at 20 pounds -- making the geoduck the largest burrowing clam in the world. They're also among the longest-living creatures, with a lifespan up to 150 years. The average age of commercially harvested Alaska geoducks is 44 years, said Robert Larson of the Alaska Department of Fish and Game in Petersburg.
They grow slowly, says John Beattie of the Washington Department of Fisheries, taking up to 10 years to reach a harvest size of 2 pounds.
Each winter, some 100 divers harvest 220,000 pounds of geoducks in Southeast, the only region in the state where geoducks are found. About 110,000 pounds of the total are taken in waters around Craig, Metlakatla, Petersburg and Wrangell. Another 100,000 pounds are dug from the sea floor off Ketchikan's Gravina Island.
But the state's most desired geoducks come from Symond's Bay near Sitka. Although the bay's 10,000-pound quota is small, the entire harvest is sent alive to overseas markets, where live shellfish command a premium price. Live shipment is possible because the bay's waters have historically been free of the natural marine toxin, paralytic shellfish poison (PSP).
Geoducks harvested elsewhere are more likely to be contaminated by the toxin. Fishermen in these areas send their catch to be processed, a step that removes entrails where the toxin accumulates. The meat is then sold fresh or frozen -- for roughly half the price paid for live geoducks.
''The most-desired ones have white meat and long necks,'' says Larry Trani of the Sitka Dive Harvesters Association. ''Every one of the 'ducks we have here in Sitka Sound are No. 1 export grade. That means they have white meat and long necks. We're talking animals with necks that stretch 3 feet.''
Treasure Hunters
When not underwater, Bauder works as a veterinarian in this small Southeast fishing town of 8,500 people. Friends say that since he arrived in 1973, there are a lot more three-legged dogs in town.
''He just doesn't want to put them down if he doesn't have to,'' said a friend.
''Yeah, that's true,'' Bauder says. ''They even have a band here called Three-Legged Dog, named after me. When I come in the bar, they bow to me in tribute.''
When he's not tending to dogs, cats and cockatoos, Bauder enjoys diving for geoducks in Sitka Sound.
''It's just pretty, pretty, pretty,'' he says. ''I love the lifestyle, the camaraderie among the divers,'' he says. ''These guys are all driven to do better than the next guy. But when we're down there on the bottom everybody is competitive. It's fun. It's risky. And it pays well.
''I like reaching into the sand and pulling out a $35 dollar bill,'' says Bauder, who calls geoduck diving a treasure hunt for adults.
Bauder's treasures lay buried in the ocean floor. To reach them, he and other harvesters practice a modern form of ''hookah'' diving, donning dry suits and breathing through a hose that brings fresh air from the surface. This method is preferred over scuba diving because divers can stay on the bottom longer. Breathing that way while working hard is also easier than it is with scuba tanks, he says.
Divers carry a second air hose called a ''stinger,'' which resembles the wand of a pressure washer. The device blows 246 gallons of water per minute at high pressure, and divers use it to blow mud and silt away from a buried geoduck.
''That's a lot of water. It lifts you right off the bottom when you point it down,'' Bauder says.
To keep from being tipped over, divers strap lead weight to their waists. Bauder straps an extra 80 pounds of lead to his waist. Walking slowly on the bottom, the trick is finding what's called a ''show,'' a dimple in the mud or sand. The clam lies below it.
''When you see the show, you take the tip of your nozzle and stick it right where the neck is,'' Bauder says. ''You have to move quick, because the neck is just a few inches below the bottom, and (the geoduck) can retract that neck three feet back to its shell.
''So as soon as you start washing the mud away you start feeling for the neck and when you get hold of the neck you just wash down along the side of it.''
All that washing kicks up a huge cloud of silt and mud, cutting visibility to nearly zero. Divers rely on touch and experience to wrest the clam free. But too much force can injure the geoduck's valuable neck or break its fragile shell.
Divers spend 45 minutes to an hour on the bottom during each dive. On a good day, a diver with the right touch can collect nearly 100 clams. At about $32 apiece for the average 4-pounder sold alive, that's a treasure indeed.
Risky Business
Nevertheless, geoduck diving has its risks.
''Mostly, it's breathing problems. The air supply coming down from the surface can get cut off,'' says Bauder. ''I've had that happen like 25 times over the past five years.
''Most of the time, the hose just gets kinked for a few seconds.''
On a dive two years ago, Bauder's weight belt loosened in 30 feet of water while on the bottom. He surfaced to try and fix it.
''When I got to the surface my weight belt -- 80-pounds of lead--popped off and hung up on my air hose,'' Bauder said. ''The weight pulled my face into the water for about three minutes.''
He nearly drowned.
''My partner gave me CPR and got me jump-started. I went to Juneau and spent about 16 hours in Bartlett Hospital under observation and was back at work the next day. Film at eleven.''
Freak accidents are rare, but they do happen. Another diving hazard is the bends, which can afflict divers who return to the surface too quickly . A fast ascent can cause nitrogen that has accumulated in the body's tissues to be released, triggering breathing failure and sometimes paralysis. In rare instances, the bends are fatal.
The National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health reports that six Alaska divers died on the job between 1990 and 1996. Three were harvesting sea cucumbers. The other three were clearing lines and nets from boat props and other equipment. Four of the six died after becoming entangled; two died after running out of air.
''Is it dangerous?'' Bauder asks. ''Yes. You have to tell people that. But if you really believe that (it's too dangerous) then you have to quit diving.''
Ketchikan diver Steve LaCroix agrees it can be dangerous, but only for the inexperienced.
''My insurance agent isn't worried,'' says LaCroix. ''I've been doing it for 20 years, and I know what the dangers are.''
Reining in the Fishery
Several agencies estimate there are about 100 divers in southeast Alaska -- twice as many as three years ago.
''These geoducks are worth $8 to $10 a pound alive,'' says Trani. ''When you're pulling 4- or 5-pounders out, that's $50 bills you're pulling out of the sand. So you can see the gold rush mentality really kicks in here.''
Fearful an influx of new divers could damage geoduck stocks at a time when the size of the population is unclear, longtime divers obtained a moratorium three years ago that temporarily forbids new divers from entering the fishery.
''We went in a few years from 50 divers in Alaska to about 100 just before the moratorium,'' recalls Bauder. ''Things were getting out of hand.''
The moratorium, which expires in 2000, allows state fishery managers time to develop a plan for managing geoducks, Traini says.
A state tax promoted by divers on their catch also helps pay for the development of management plans.
''My biggest concern,'' Trani says, ''is to see . . . this fishery (develop) in a truly sustainable way, instead of every fishery that I've seen happen in this state where it gets so run down and depleted before it gets any attention.''
Geoducks Galore
Geoduck divers may soon be allowed to harvest more clams.''There is interest in expanding this fishery, both on the state's part and on the industry's part,'' says Robert Larson, shellfish biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game in Petersburg. ''Much of the range of geoducks has not been adequately surveyed, so there's the possibility (the size of the stock) would increase if we just went out and looked for them.''
Some people are doing exactly that.
Southeast Alaska used to be known for tourism, fishing and logging. These days, it's known more for tourism, fishing, and unemployment. Logging in the vast Tongass National Forest has declined, and the federal government last year made millions of dollars available to retrain hundreds of loggers and launch economic development projects. Sitka spent $500,000 of its share to look for geoducks.
''Oh yeah, we found them all right,'' says Trani, one of the divers hired by the city.
Divers who counted geoducks last summer estimate Sitka-area waters contain 12 million to 24 million pounds of the giant clam. But those surveys weren't scientific and many divers counted geoducks in waters deeper than 70 feet.
Alaska Department of Fish and Game surveys that followed took place in water less than 70 feet, where they found just 1 million pounds of geoducks.
''There is a biomass below 70 feet, but we aren't equipped to survey that deep. So we don't know exactly what the stocks are,'' says state biologist Dave Gordon, a diver who helped with the survey. The stocks he did see were thriving.
''It was pretty cool,'' says Gordon. ''In some areas their necks stuck a foot up from the bottom into the water. It looked like a forest of geoduck necks sloping off down into water too deep for us to go.''
Still, a million pounds of geoducks is a lot of sushi. Under a state plan that allows harvesters to take another 1 million pounds of geoduck this season, Sitka could see its quota triple to 30,000 pounds when the season opens today.
That's enough to make most divers happy as a clam.
Conquering PSP
While geoducks are more valuable than ever, another problem -- paralytic shellfish poisoning -- is daunting.
''It is a real concern for harvesters and it's what concerns the state as well,'' says Ray RaLonde, aquaculture specialist at the Alaska Sea Grant Program in Anchorage. ''All shellfish are susceptible, and nowhere are Alaska waters immune to an outbreak.''
A naturally occurring neurotoxin, PSP can infect any shellfish. Though not harmful to the shellfish, people who eat infected shellfish risk sickness -- even death. The toxin works by blocking the movement of sodium through cell membranes, effectively stopping nerve impulses. Symptoms include tingling, numbness, disorientation and paralysis. In advanced stages, the toxin can interrupt breathing.
Since 1990, an average of eight Alaskans a year have become ill from eating untested shellfish that they harvested, according to the state Division of Public Health. Three of them died. So far this year, two people have gotten sick, but no one has died.
No one, however, has ever died or reported that they've contracted PSP from eating commercially harvested Alaska shellfish. By law, those shellfish must pass the state test for PSP, which mandates that shellfish contain fewer than 80 micrograms of the toxin.
But the test is expensive. Divers who want to sell live geoducks must pay $375 to test three geoducks from each day's harvest. If the geoducks pass, the catch can be sold. Failure means the catch must be killed and processed to remove entrails that contain the toxin. The state doesn't charge to test processed geoducks.
Since 95 percent of Alaska's geoducks are caught in areas where PSP can pose a problem, most divers forego the expensive test and opt for the lower price paid by processors, says Brian Paust of the University of Alaska Marine Advisory Program in Petersburg.
''Four bucks a pound from the processor is better than paying for a test their catch likely will fail,'' Paust says. ''A little money is better than getting nothing.''
But divers would rather sell live geoducks. And scientists are working on solutions to the toxin hazard.
Putting Biology to Work
Scientists hope the same biological mechanism that makes geoducks vulnerable to PSP may help rid them of the toxin.
Like other clams and oysters, geoducks feed by siphoning seawater through their digestive system, filtering out plankton and other nutrients. That's how they pick up a marine organism called dinoflagellate that causes PSP. But if they're exposed to clean seawater, geoducks will, in time, cleanse themselves of the toxin.
''Animals might be harvested and relocated to bays and inlets that are historically free of PSP,'' says aquaculture specialist RaLonde. ''Or they could be held in special tanks that have filters and pumps to continually move clean water through the tanks and carry out any PSP.''
Recently, the Alaska Science and Technology Foundation paid shellfish consultant Roger Painter $50,000 to test the idea.
Down on the Farm
Painter operates an oyster farm on Sea Otter Sound lies at the base of two steep mountains on the west side of Prince of Wales Island. Dramatic tides flush nutrient-rich seawater over some 400,000 oysters.
Reachable only by boat or float plane, Painter's ''crop'' ends up on dinner tables in restaurants from Seattle to San Francisco. Painter has never had a PSP outbreak, which makes his farm a good place to see how long it takes tainted geoducks, planted by the Science and Technology Foundation, to rid themselves of PSP.
Five weeks, it turns out. That's how long it took for the toxin to decline from more than 100 micrograms to less than 80, the state and federal limit.
''That's too long,'' laments Painter. ''Much longer than two weeks, you start to lose them. They start to die on you. We had hoped it would take only a couple of weeks.''
Detox times might be reduced, Painter says, if the geoducks were kept in tanks of recirculating seawater treated with chemicals. ''We're on the right track,'' he says.
Streamlining Red Tape
Each year, DEC tests hundreds of commercially harvested geoducks, along with mussels, crabs and oysters for PSP and other marine toxins. The $375 fee for each test angered harvesters when it was announced by the Department of Environmental Conservation last season; previously, tests were free.
''We had 11 divers participate in the January harvest,'' says Bauder. ''That would've been $375 per day, per diver, over four days. That's $16,500. It was absolutely ridiculous.''
Bauder and others claim testing so many clams harvested from the same bed is unnecessary, and eventually the DEC changed its policy.
This season, Sitka divers who harvest animals from the same bed at the same time can combine their daily catch into one batch. Instead of 11 divers sending in 33 clams each day, they'll test just three clams per day. Officials say the new policy doesn't increase the risk of PSP to consumers.
''The state is asking for fewer samples because the place has historically been free of PSP,'' says Sea Grant's RaLonde. ''If Sitka geoducks have PSP, it will show up in the smaller sample size.''
The state also is considering a plan to monitor PSP-indicator species such as butter clams and mussels -- opening geoduck beds only when there's no toxin present. A similar program is used in British Columbia.
''We want the live product to offer the greatest amount of economic return for the harvester,'' says Mike Ostasz, shellfish program coordinator with DEC. ''At the same time we want to be assured that all live product is safe for the consumer.''
Other Producers Steaming Ahead
Even if Alaska harvesters solve their problems with PSP, competition from Outside is fierce.
Washington state and British Columbia each sell about 4 million pounds of geoducks a year. And more are on the way.
Within five years, corporations such as Taylor-United in Washington plan to harvest some 3 million geoducks from tidal farms.
Alaska harvesters say if the state continues to open new areas to geoduck harvest, finds solutions to the PSP problem and helps aquaculture farmers develop geoduck farms, Alaska may improve its standing in the marketplace -- or, at least, stay neck and neck with the competition.
Doug Schneider is the science writer with the Alaska Sea Grant College Program, a marine research and education program at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. He can be reached at fndgs@aurora.alaska.edu
More than 200,000 pounds of geoducks were harvested by divers in Southeast Alaska during the 1996-1997 season.
5 billion eggs can be produced during a female geoduck's
100-year lifetime.
Up to 150 years is how long a geoduck can live.
20 pounds is the weight for some of the rare giant geoducks that have been found. A weight of 4 to 7 pounds including the shell is more typical.
Burrowing beasts
A geoduck can extend its neck 3 feet up from its home beneath the sea floor. The neck, more appropriately called a siphon, can quickly be retracted by the geoduck if predators approach.
Going under
Geoducks have a small foot they use to dig themselves into the sea floor. Once they've established a home as adults at 3 feet below the surface, they stay put, unable to move out of their deep burrows.
A place to call home
Geoducks are found in lower intertidal and subtidal zones of bays, sloughs, and estuaries to depths of about 360 feet. They are most abundant between 30 feet and 60 feet below the mean tide mark. The mollusks burrow in a variety of substrates, ranging from soft mud to pea gravel, mostly in stable mud or sand bottoms.
Predators
Young geoducks that are not fully buried are especially vulnerable to being eaten by snails, sea stars shrimp and bottom-feeding fish. Crabs are particularly lethal to geoducks. Fully buried adult geoducks are also susceptible to attack. Marine animals such as the dogfish shark and Pacific staghorn sculpin have been found to eat siphon tips. Sea otters can dislodge buried geoducks and the giant pink sea star positions itself over geoducks' burrows and waits for them to appear.
Making babies
There are no mating rituals for these mollusks. Known as ''broadcast spawners,'' geoducks release sperm and eggs into the water and rely on waves and currents to unite the two. A female may release as many as 5 million eggs, no bigger than a sand grain, at a time.
Sources: People for the Puget Sound Field Guide to the Geoduck by David George Gordon, Alaska Diving Safety, Doug Schneider
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