Once-dirty River Clyde sees return of salmon

GLASGOW, Scotland -- Running through one of Britain's biggest manufacturing centers, the River Clyde was poisoned for more than a century by the fetid byproducts of industry.

The waterway bore the brunt of Glasgow's economic success during the Industrial Revolution and beyond, as pollution and chemicals destroyed its fish and wildlife populations and brewed smells whose memory still makes residents wince.

Now, with heavy industry gone and Glasgow reconceived as a center for culture and tourism, the Clyde is coming back to life. For the first time since the late 1800s, its native salmon have returned in sizable numbers, reflecting the new cleanliness of a river that was once one of Britain's filthiest.

"Things have improved dramatically, because the baseline was zero and you can't really go wrong from there," said Willie Yeomans, fish biologist and catchment manager at the Clyde River Foundation. "The whole Clyde's a recovering river."

The foundation surveyed fish populations last autumn at 69 sites in the Clyde and its tributaries, and found salmon in seven of the nine major tributaries, Yeomans said.

The migratory fish, which vanished from the Clyde around 1880 after a long decline, first reappeared in the 1980s, but last year's survey was the first to show they've come back in healthy numbers.

Although commercial salmon fishing was never widespread on the Clyde, the fish's return is symbolically important for Glasgow, where salmon were once so important to the city's identity that two are pictured on its official coat of arms.

The salmon's comeback is also a sign of big improvements to water quality. Like sea trout, which have also reappeared in the Clyde system in recent years, salmon are very sensitive to environmental conditions and require cool, well-oxygenated water to thrive.

The decline of Glasgow's main industries helped boost the fortunes of a river that was essentially fishless for decades during the worst periods of pollution.

Thirty to 40 years ago, "the river could be a different color every day," said George Parsonage, a lifeboat officer.