Amy Gulick–The Salmon Way
Amy Gulick Photographer/Author
Amy Gulick has been interested in storytelling since she was a small child. Before she could read and write, she was “just doing what comes naturally to human beings,” telling stories. “Maybe it’s about what I experienced or something I saw … I just loved telling stories as a kid.” From oral stories, to using words and drawings, to using photographic images, Gulick’s life and career have had a focus on storytelling. That focus eventually led to The Salmon Way: An Alaska State of Mind, for which Gulick will receive the Environmental Impact Award from NANPA and the Roger Tory Peterson Institute at the 2025 NANPA Summit. Gulick will also present breakout sessions on her work there. Don’t miss your chance to see her and other leaders in nature and conservation photography at the Summit, May 15-17, 2025, in Tucson Arizona.
The evolution of a conservation photographer/storyteller
When exploring the many facets of storytelling as a child, Gulick got her hands on a Kodak pocket camera. “I kind of laugh at that now, right? Because everybody’s got a camera in their pocket. It just happens to also be a phone,” she said. But not everyone with a camera becomes an accomplished conservation photographer.
Gulick was blown away by the possibilities a camera offered. She loved the outdoors. “I was one of those feral kids,” she said, and started photographing her world—her friends, climbing trees, swimming in streams. This developing passion for the outdoors, storytelling and photography, began with those adventures and has never left her.
She started publishing her work, sometimes writing, sometimes photography, sometimes both. She looked at individual species—their habitat, roles in ecosystems, anything she could learn about them. She did stories about simply being in the outdoors, outdoor recreation and the natural history of certain areas.
Over time, Gulick started going deeper into wilderness areas, to places quite remote and truly wild. What she learned was that “as wonderful as these places are, there were definite threats to them, whether it was some kind of industrial exploitation or climate change.” She’d come back and tell people, share her story and experiences. She quickly found that “many people, while they may never go to these places, they cared and they wanted to do something.” Gulick saw the power of her stories, her photographs, to take people places they may never visit, to make them care about species they may never see. Which, indirectly, leads to The Salmon Way: An Alaska State of Mind.
©Amy Gulick Brown Bear with Female Chum Salmon McNeil River Alaska U.S.A. Behavior: Salmon comprise a significant part of the diet of coastal brown bears in Alaska. Toward the end of a good salmon season, bears can afford to be picky and target the richest parts of the fish — eggs, skin and brain. Just prior to spawning, female salmon are so full of eggs that even a small amount of applied pressure will force the eggs out of their bodies.
As a resident of Whidbey Island, in the Salish Sea of Washington state, Gulick has spent extensive time exploring the northwest coast and Alaska. In the Alaska panhandle lies the Tongass National Forest, which contains the largest stands of old-growth coastal temperate rain forest. Because the forest’s ecological integrity has been threatened by industrial scale clear-cut logging , Gulick wanted to do a project to “help people understand what makes this place so special.”
In researching the Tongass, she came across a scientific paper titled, “The Upstream Flow of Marine-Derived Nutrients in a Terrestrial Environment.” Wading through the scientific language, what this article said was, essentially, that there are salmon in the trees. It surprised Gulick. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, “and if I can help others understand how it is that there are salmon in the trees, then people will fall in love with this place and will understand why it’s so important.”
When she says that the Tongass is a place where there are salmon in the trees, it grabs people’s attention and they want to know what the heck she means. How is this possible? It’s a story involving salmon migration, bears, tree cores and Nitrogen 15. If you want to know the whole story, check out Gulick’s award-winning book and multimedia project, Salmon in the Trees: Life in Alaska’s Tongass Rain Forest, or catch one of her presentations at NANPA’s 2025 Summit.
That project led to exhibits, public presentations, and getting the book into the hands of decision makers because, Gulick says, “that’s what we do when we start using our images to conserve nature. We don’t just stop after the photos are made. We use those photos to influence people,” particularly decision makers who have the authority to pass legislation and make policies that govern land management.
While working on Salmon in the Trees, Gulick interviewed a lot of people and began to develop an understanding of how important the Tongass was to Southeast Alaska’s wild and human communities. She found that there were many different communities in the region but “one thing they all had in common was their relationship with salmon, how important the salmon were … salmon built these communities.” That got her thinking, “if salmon are this important and are a common thread in people’s lives in Southeast Alaska, are they also this important and a common thread throughout the entire state?”
So she started to branch out from the Tongass and spent time with Indigenous people whose entire cultures have revolved around salmon for thousands of years. She spent time with commercial fishermen, sport fishermen and guides. Each has a strong but different relationship with salmon. What does this fish mean to them, economically, socially, culturally, artistically? That was the beginning of The Salmon Way: An Alaska State of Mind.
©Amy Gulick
Making a difference
Gulick met the late Gary Braasch (founding NANPA board member, senior fellow of the International League of Conservation Photographers and recipient of the Sierra Club’s Ansel Adams Award for Conservation Photography) at a NANPA Summit some years ago. During their conversation, Braasch “said something to me that I will never forget. It sticks in my head and I try to pass this on to younger photographers who want to use their work for conservation.” What Braasch said was, if we want to conserve nature, the highest and best use of our photographs is to get them in front of decision makers. Being “out in the field is wonderful, but it’s probably not going to do much to conserve what we all love,” Gulick noted. “Whenever I get a little overwhelmed with a conservation project and ask ‘how can I best use my work’ I always go back to what Gary said. I love getting my work in front of people and seeing where it all goes, because it’s kind of like a snowball. It starts out small and then it builds and builds, and media inquiries and speaking invitations start coming in.”
Having a book published gives her a level of credibility that’s been helpful in reaching wider audiences and forming partnerships with other conservation-minded organizations. A book is something she or other interested conservationists can use to start a conversation or leave behind in a decision-maker’s office. Its ripples spread outward in all directions.
Gulick also created a traveling exhibit for both projects. “That’s another way to get that same story out there in front of more eyeballs, to get more media coverage. I’m doing all this to raise awareness and reach as many people as possible. The exhibits give me an opportunity to be there in person and give public talks, which generate yet more media coverage.”
The response has been gratifying. People from Alaska have sent Gulick photos of where they see her books. She even received one showing Alaska Senator Lisa Murkowski holding her book, and has personally handed a book to Senator Murkowski as well as other members of the U.S. Congress and members of the Alaska state legislature. A benefit of partnering with other groups is that they can often reach decision makers Gulick can’t. They can go into a senator’s office to lobby for protecting existing salmon habitat or restoring a salmon stream and leave the book behind. “It’s heartening to see where the work goes, who it touches and who it reaches.”
©Amy Gulick Castnetting Sweetheart Creek Alaska U.S.A.
From Summit rookie to icon
“Maybe 20 years ago, I went to the NANPA Summit for the first time, and all my heroes were there,” Gulick said. “All the people I looked up to, all the people whose work I admired, they were there, in person. I could talk with them. I could meet them in the hallway and introduce myself and ask them questions that I’d always wanted to ask. When you have those informal conversations, you’re cultivating a relationship. I would ask, ‘can I follow up with you about my own work, or if I have questions later?’ And of course, everybody said yes. And I kept in touch. I would send them an email when I had another question or needed some advice . That was invaluable. You can’t put a price tag on that!” she says.
“I was able sit down and listen and see my heroes give their formal presentations and learn about their work, how they were using their images for conservation, what challenges they faced, what approaches they took. Again, invaluable. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without that first Summit.”
Now Gulick is one of those master photographers that people look up to. She’s paying it forward with things like her involvement with Girls Who Click [https://girlswhoclick.org/]. Started by Suzi Eszterhas, the organization’s mission is to mentor, foster, and encourage young girls to enter the field of nature photography. Gulick is one of the volunteer instructors and has given workshops to teenage girls in the program. “When I was their age, it’s not that I couldn’t get into the field—clearly, I did—but I don’t remember any kind of mentorship or support.”
What’s next
“I’m starting to develop something that I’m not quite ready to talk about yet. But I will say, in all of my work, whatever it is, I’m most interested in helping people make connections between nature and humanity. Why is nature important? Why should we care if most people live in urban areas and our noses are stuck in screens all day? Why on earth do we care about what’s going on outside our windows? Why should we even go outside? And I think that’s a hard question to answer for a lot of people, especially in the modern world. But that’s the goal with my work—, to help people understand why we should care, and what we can all be doing. “
©Amy Gulick Clear Water
Five Mile Creek — tributary of Copper River
Chitina
Alaska
U.S.A.
