You’re standing on the concrete walkway at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks—everyone calls them the Ballard Locks—and the smell hits you first. It’s that briny, metallic scent of the Puget Sound mixing with the flat, mossy aroma of Lake Washington. Most tourists are huddled around the lock chambers, watching yachts and tugboats drop twenty feet as the water drains. They’re missing the real drama happening just a few yards away. Down at the fish ladder, thousands of silver and red bodies are fighting a literal uphill battle against gravity and exhaustion.
Salmon at Ballard Locks aren't just a seasonal photo op. They’re a survival story.
Honestly, if you just show up in December and expect a show, you’re going to be staring at empty concrete. Timing is everything. The Ballard Locks serve as the only gateway for salmon returning from the Pacific Ocean to their spawning grounds in the Cedar River watershed. It’s a bottleneck. A gauntlet. And for the fish, it’s the hardest thing they’ll ever do.
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The Brutal Reality of the Fish Ladder
Think of the fish ladder as a series of 21 concrete steps. It was built back in 1917, but it didn't really account for the way salmon actually "think." Over the years, the Army Corps of Engineers had to renovate the whole setup because the fish were getting confused or exhausted. Today, it’s a sophisticated system of weirs and pools designed to trick the salmon into thinking they’re just swimming up a particularly difficult mountain stream.
They follow the "attraction water." This is basically a high-volume flow at the entrance of the ladder that signals to the fish, "Hey, the river is this way!" Once they enter, they have to jump or swim through small openings in each weir.
It’s exhausting. You’ll see them in the viewing windows—big Chinook (King) salmon that look like mottled silver torpedoes, some weighing over 30 pounds. They often just sit there, hovering in the current. They aren't being lazy. They’re recovering. Their bodies are already beginning to shut down as they transition from saltwater to freshwater, a process called osmoregulation that puts an incredible amount of stress on their internal organs.
When to Actually Show Up
If you want to see the "Big Three," you have to know the calendar. People ask me all the time when the best month is, and the answer is usually July, but it’s complicated.
Sockeye are the early birds. They usually peak in late June and through July. They’re the ones that turn that iconic bright red later in their journey, though at the Locks, they often still have that bluish-silver ocean sheen.
Chinook follow closely behind, peaking in August. These are the giants. If you see something that looks like a submerged log moving against the current, that’s a King.
Coho (Silvers) show up late, usually September through October. They are acrobatic and aggressive.
Then there are the Steelhead. They’re the outliers. Unlike the others, Steelhead don't necessarily die after spawning, and they can show up in the winter months, but their numbers have plummeted so drastically in recent decades that seeing one is a rare, bittersweet event.
The Underwater Viewing Gallery
The viewing gallery is dark, cool, and usually smells a bit like damp concrete and old raincoats. It’s located on the south side of the locks. There are six massive windows. This is where you see the scars. You’ll notice white patches on the salmon’s backs or tattered fins. Some of that is from hitting rocks, but a lot of it is from the "Sea Lion Tax."
For years, the Ballard Locks have been a buffet line for California sea lions and harbor seals. You’ll see them bobbing in the water just below the spillway, looking like smooth, dark boulders. They wait for the salmon to bunch up at the entrance of the ladder. It’s a controversial struggle. On one hand, you have protected marine mammals; on the other, you have endangered salmon runs. The state has tried everything from underwater firecrackers (seal bombs) to non-lethal acoustic deterrents to keep the predators away. Nothing works perfectly.
Why the Locks Exist in the First Place
The Ballard Locks weren't built for the fish. They were built for industry. Before 1917, Lake Washington was about nine feet higher than it is today, and it didn't even flow out through Shilshole Bay. It drained south through the Black River. When the Army Corps dug the ship canal and built the locks, they literally lowered the lake level and changed the entire hydrology of the region.
The fish ladder was an afterthought, a way to mitigate the fact that we’d just blocked the primary highway for every salmon in the watershed.
Things Most People Get Wrong
People often think the salmon are "jumping" for fun. They aren't. Every jump is a massive expenditure of the limited caloric energy they have left. Once they hit freshwater, they stop eating. Their stomachs literally shrivel up. They are running on fat stores and sheer instinct.
Another misconception is that the water in the locks is the same as the water in the lake. It’s not. The Locks use a "saltwater drain" system. Because saltwater is denser than freshwater, it sinks to the bottom of the lock chambers. If that saltwater crept into Lake Washington, it would ruin the ecosystem. So, there’s a complex system of pipes and siphons that sucks the heavy saltwater back out to the sound.
The Impact of the "Cooling" Water
One of the biggest threats to salmon at Ballard Locks isn't predators—it's heat.
In recent summers, Lake Washington has become a bathtub. Salmon need water cooler than 60°F to stay healthy. When the lake surface hits 70°F, it creates a thermal barrier. The fish will sit in the cooler, deeper water of the locks, refusing to move into the lake because the heat would literally cook them from the inside out.
To combat this, the Army Corps sometimes pumps cooler water from the bottom of the ship canal into the ladder. It’s a stopgap measure. It’s a sign of how much human intervention is required just to keep these "wild" runs alive.
Practical Advice for Your Visit
- Park on the North Side (Ballard): It’s the side with the botanical gardens. The walk across the lock gates is half the fun, though they close the gates to pedestrians when boats are moving through.
- Bring Polarized Sunglasses: If you’re looking down from the walls into the water, polarized lenses cut the glare. You’ll see fish that everyone else misses.
- Check the Fish Counts: The Muckleshoot Indian Tribe and the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW) keep track of how many fish pass through. If the "daily count" is in the single digits, don't bother making the trip just for the fish.
- Visit the Carl S. English Jr. Botanical Garden: While you're there, walk through the gardens. It’s one of the best arboretums in the city and surprisingly quiet compared to the tourist-heavy locks.
- Look for the "Smolt Flumes": In the spring (March–May), the babies (smolts) are heading out to sea. Look for the bypass flumes—they look like giant slides—designed to help the tiny fish bypass the dangerous spillway gates and predators.
Actionable Next Steps
If you’re planning a trip to see the salmon at Ballard Locks, your first move should be checking the WDFW escapement reports online. These real-time numbers tell you exactly how many fish of each species have passed through the windows in the last 24 hours. Aim for a visit in late July during a weekday morning to avoid the weekend crowds and catch the peak of the Sockeye run.
Once you arrive, head straight to the large topographical map near the visitor center to understand the "Lake Washington Ship Canal" layout. It puts the scale of the salmon’s journey into perspective. After you've spent time at the viewing windows, walk to the south end of the dam to see the sea lions; observing the predator-prey dynamic gives you a much fuller picture of the ecosystem than just looking at the fish through glass.
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Finally, consider donating to or volunteering with Long Live the Kings or the Mid-Sound Fisheries Enhancement Group. These organizations do the actual work of habitat restoration in the Cedar River and Bear Creek, ensuring that the fish you see at the Locks actually have a place to lay their eggs once they make it through the concrete.