Within the beauty and staggering sights of Alaska’s vast terrain, a battle exists between the protection of the environment and the ability for visitors to experience the unique majesty of the Last Frontier. And on the battle’s frontlines: the brown bears of Brooks Falls.
Spanning over four million acres, across a valley laden with ash from the largest volcanic eruption of the 20th century, intricate glacial-fed watersheds and lake topographies, the rugged peaks of the Aleutians and vast cliffs dropping into the coast of the Shelikof Strait, Katmai National Park is rife with possibilities for outdoor recreation and adventure. Yet, it’s the bear viewing at Brooks Falls that remains its most prized – and populated – tourist attraction.
Only accessible by boat or plane, Katmai stretches through the wilds of Southwest Alaska, roughly 300 miles west of Anchorage. Teeming with a myriad of unique ecological marvels, it is the five-foot waterfalls of the Brooks River that are most coveted. Every summer season, an amount of brown bears and sockeye salmon unparalleled anywhere else in the world congregate at the mouth of the river and atop the lip of the falls, migrating and feasting just as they’ve done for centuries.
Situated at the river’s mouth and along the shores of the Naknek River, the Brooks Camp stands as the headquarters for visitors coming to Brooks Falls. When Katmai was designated as a National Park in 1980, the camp was a modest, classic Alaskan stay, primarily appealing to anglers seeking to fish the river. In recent years, however, Brooks Camp has seen a record-breaking 19,000 people a year, as of 2024 – with a ceiling-shattering 500 people a day during peak season.
As tourism numbers continue to climb at Brooks Falls, the question becomes ever more urgent: what impact does this have on the unique, fragile ecosystem that exists within Katmai’s bounds?
Brown bears are among the most sought-after species for ecotourism in North America. With around 2,200 bears following the salmon migration through the Brooks River, Katmai National Park and Preserve has experienced an unrelenting boom in tourism over the past two decades. Even while numbers dipped during the COVID-19 pandemic, the park remained one of the most trafficked in the state.
Overcrowding has become an increasingly pertinent issue, with many visitors waiting at least two hours to get close to the waterfalls, where the main bear-viewing attraction is located, during the peak months of the year. As attendance continued to rise during the 2010s, conversations swirled around how best to navigate this influx of bear-viewing ecotourism. There were initial talks of dismantling the ever-growing Brooks Lodge and Camp, as it sits along the confluences of dense bear habitat. There was a proposal to institute bear-only areas, where the animals could exist and hunt without the interference of both humans and their motorised din.
Both of these ideas were abandoned in favour of something the moneyed interests found far greater: a 1,200-foot-long bridge of wood and steel, stretching across the main feeding thoroughfare of the brown bears, and officially placing human development in every essential bear habitat along the lower river. As of 2025, there is nowhere for these bears, who have spent centuries adapting to life along the Brooks River and its cyclical feeding schedule, to live without human interference.
Six years after the permanent bridge was installed, which also features new viewing platforms and live-feed cameras, tourists find themselves crammed into crowded lines to get their pictures of the feeding bears. As the lines continue to grow, people spill into the waterways, encroaching directly on the personal space of the wildlife.
Though Brooks Camp requires visitors to attend a brief talk given by a National Park Service Ranger on appropriate bear safety, the orientation does not leave a lasting impact.
In 2022, three men were sentenced, fined, and banned from National Parks for one year after they decided to forgo the bridge and plunge into the river’s waters. They were seen on the live stream cameras, holding cell phones aloft to capture selfies with the animals.
People are often seen crowding around bears as the animals attempt to cross roads and camp areas, trying to find their way back to the waters of their instinctual seasonal patterns. Cubs tottering behind too slowly are suddenly engulfed by crowds, with their flashing cameras and ever-present cell phones.
Findings have shown that bears drastically alter their behaviour whilst in the presence of humans. In response to human activity, bears will switch from diurnal to crepuscular activities. Sows with cubs will constantly adjust their paths to avoid humans, and all bears will spend less time fishing and hunting when people are present.
Even as Katmai National Park and Preserve boasts of seeing bears in their natural habitat and claims to allow visitors to coexist cordially with them, it remains an intensely human-oriented experience.
Bears are routinely harassed with firecrackers, air horns, and even rubber bullets to push them away from the water areas and allow for more effortless movement of visitors. The Park Service defends this as a strategy against dangerous interactions between bears and humans. While this may be the case, it can be further argued that attacking animals in their own habitat – especially as a preventative measure – goes directly against the National Park mentality of wildlife protection.
When discussing this development and the consistently unfurling culture in Katmai, renowned ecologist and bear advocate Dr Barry Gilbert says, ‘One of Alaska’s most treasured bear-viewing sites is about to be turned into a destination theme park, sacrificing grizzly bear habitat on the altar of commercial development.’
As the Park Service lines its pockets through the exploitation of a distinctively individual and fragile bear ecosystem, there is little chance that ecotourism at Katmai’s Brooks Falls will be abated entirely. As the National Park Service allows for more flexibility with restrictions – such as a proposal for the use of electric bikes and an extension for parking at Lake Camp from 72 hours to 14 days – the need for a healthier relationship with the bears of Brooks Falls is dire.
In 2020, Katmai National Park and Preserve launched a pilot permit system, which was deemed successful. However, permits are only required for those wading into and walking along the banks of the Brooks River. The permits did not alter the already lenient wildlife distance regulations, nor did they impose a limit on the number of individuals who could acquire them at any given time. Through this, the congestion issues and wildlife disturbance remained unchanged.
Yet, constructive change is still possible for Brooks Falls.
As the permits now exist in perpetuity, amending them to include daily visitation limits and encompass all of Brooks Falls’s visitors – not just those intending to get closer to the river – would make for a significant change in the lives of the brown bears.
The orientation given to those coming into Brooks Camp is commonly known as a simple overview for those who have never interacted with bears before. This does not have a lasting impact on tourists, who, overcome with the excitement of seeing the bears, crowd and harass them.
The area around the lower Brooks River is an ecological marvel, with its culmination of mass brown bear and sockeye salmon activity – it is not an interactive children’s museum. The seriousness of taking such a trip should be understood and shared, and as such, the orientation should be in-depth and convey the gravity of the relationship between humans and bears.
In 2015, Katmai introduced the infamous ‘bear-viewing cams’, which allow for a constant live stream of the Falls and the lower river. While on one hand, this has bolstered the popularity of the tourist destination, on the other, it can also allow for its appeasement. In curbing the intensive visitor numbers, the cameras can be better advertised. More can be constructed, using what already works to the advantage of the bears’ longevity.
McNeil River, another popular bear-viewing area in Southwest Alaska, has implemented a successful limitation of only 10 people visiting per day.
These visitors are restricted to a gravel pad resting at the top of the falls, allowing for the least amount of human disturbance to the wildlife. At the same time, people can still witness the phenomenon of bears catching salmon mid-jump over the falls. And, in turn, the bears are given more predictability and space from the humans’ presence. While it’s unlikely for a booming economy like Brooks Falls to ever limit its capacity to 10 people a day, the implementation of a capacity cap and stricter regulations against interaction with the bears would prove invaluable to their day-to-day lives.
Brooks Falls has been adored for centuries. The Yup’ik and Inuit peoples have lived in tandem and in harmony with the ecosystem for thousands of years, and the bears and salmon have existed in their seasonal tradition for time immemorial. Within its rushing waters, deep roots, and towering mountains, Brooks Falls holds both history and community in its grasp. While the propulsion of greed and over-tourism threaten to dismantle that, through discernible action, there is still hope for the betterment and longevity of Katmai National Park’s Brooks River and Falls.
