As Amanda Wlaysewski arranges trays of brined sockeye salmon fillets destined for the smokehouse, she marvels at the rich, red color of the wild-caught Alaskan fish.

Even though she was smoking the final batch last week — the tail end of a 30,000-pound haul from last season — Wlaysewski exudes the same amount of enthusiasm and respect for the fish as she does when each season begins.

“Cutting fish is so satisfying from start to finish,” the 33-year-old Polson resident said. “You come to enjoy it.

“I always say to my mom and brother (who help with the processing), ‘look at how beautiful these fish are,’ and they tell me ‘yeah, yeah, they look just like the last 500,” she says with a soft laugh.

Wlaysewski owns and operates Kvichak Fish Co. Her older sister, Alena Chacon, a first-grade teacher in Bozeman, is a partner in the business who has invested a lot of “sweat equity.” Their entrepreneurial muscle, along with help from an array of other Wlaysewski family members and a seasonal crew of 14 mostly college students have turned their business into a thriving endeavor.

Every May, Wlaysewski and Chacon head up to Bristol Bay, Alaska, where their small fish-processing plant is located, to get ready for the season.

“It’s equal parts of running it and fixing it,” she said the plant. “Especially in Alaska, there’s usually only one [plumber or electrician] in town. You learn to be self-sufficient.”

While Chacon has a teaching salary to fall back on, Kvichak Fish Co. is Wlaysewski’s sole income, and it’s all dependent on when the fish are ready to run.

“I get a whole year’s income in six weeks, and sometimes the fish could only run for 16 days,” Wlaysewski said. It’s a fast and furious season; by Aug. 1 they’re headed back to Montana, where the smoked salmon processing continues through the winter.

For those who rely on the nature of fish, the harvest can be a fickle thing.

“Last year we sat around for 10 days playing cards, until about July 2,” she recalled. “Then the fish came in a wall.”

In 2017 sockeye fishermen yielded the third-largest harvest in 40 years, exceeding 37 million fish, according to the Bristol Bay Regional Seafood Development Association.

Sockeye fishing is one of the last derby-style fishing seasons, and it’s typically an all-out “free-for-all,” she said.

“It’s not a gentlemen’s fishery,” she added, explaining the raucous atmosphere of hundreds of fishermen vying for the sought-after sockeye.

The Bristol Bay area is divided into five management districts corresponding to the major river drainages. Kvichak Fish Co., named for the Kvichak River, operates in the Naknek-Kvichak district. The management objective for each river is to achieve spawning escapement goals while harvesting fish in excess of the goals through the drift and set gillnet fisheries, according to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game.

“Alaska is the model for well-managed fishing,” Wlaysewski said.

The Alaskan commercial fishing industry is something Wlaysewski has come to know intimately. She’s been heading to Bristol Bay every summer since graduating from high school in Butte in 2003. She had a friend whose uncles worked in the canneries and it seemed like a lucrative summer job to help pay for college at the University of Montana.

Alaska beckoned every summer, and for the first four years Wlaysewski cleaned fish on a “slime line” at a cannery. After she earned a master’s degree in medical anthropology from UM, she opted to spend a few months in Bolivia working for a nonprofit organization.

“My thought was that as soon as I figure out what I want to do [for a living] I will quit going to Alaska,” she said.

On her second day in Bolivia, though, Wlaysewski met a couple from Bristol Bay and became good friends with them. They got her a job as a deck hand on a fishing boat in Alaska.

Alaska, it seemed, was her destiny.

She began making connections with commercial fish processors who showed her the ropes, and in 2011 Wlaysewski traded her labor for fish, brought the frozen fillets home and sold them mostly at a campground near Polson. The following year Kvichak Fish Co. got off the ground.

Even though the commercial fishing industry is a physically challenging environment, Chacon, like Wlaysewski, finds it somehow soothes the soul. As she once told her younger sister: “I teach first grade, so this [processing fish] is easy. Vacuum-packing for 12 hours a day is a vacation. And it’s a great supplemental income.”

The smoked salmon is processed at the Mission Mountain Food Enterprise Center in Ronan, a facility Wlaysewski said has been “incredibly instrumental in helping us produce a value-added product line and distribute locally here in the Polson area.

“I wouldn’t have the business I have without the Food Enterprise Center,” she said, adding that she hopes to one day have her own value-added processing plant.

Kvichak Fish Co. uses a dry rub to brine the salmon, while most processors use a liquid brine. Wlaysewski finds the dry-rub method yields a better product.

“It’s all in the details. Fish don’t like to be rushed,” she said about the smoking process. “If you rush it, it punishes you.”

Kvichak Fish Co. smoked salmon can be found locally at the Good Food Store in Missoula and Super 1 Foods stores. Withey Health Foods in Kalispell sells the larger smoked fillets.

Wlaysewki and Chacon sell their products at farmers markets throughout the state and the Bozeman winter market. They also offer individual sales in the form of community-supported fishery shares that allow a person to buy a case of salmon each year, for example.

Their latest venture is a food truck that launched St. Patrick’s Day in their hometown of Butte.

“We’re trying to educate people about knowing where their food comes from,” Wlaysewski said. “I don’t know if people know how much power they have as consumers.”

For more information, go online to www.kvichakfish.com.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or lhintze@dailyinterlake.com.