Tla-o-qui-aht

Tla-o-qui-aht get new reserve on Vancouver Island Pacific coast near Tofino. We once visited this magical place around the corner from the Clayoquot Sound Biosphere Reserve, and are glad to see the Nuu-chah-nuulth people restored to their sacred land.

Searching the Fog

One of my favorite lines in the movie Master and Commander was when the British naval captain played by Russell Crowe was searching the fog with his spyglass after nearly being sunk by a French warship. Commander Aubrey remarked, “It’s like trying to find an honest man in Parliament.”

Long Journey

The U.S. Geological Survey and the Coast Salish nations are collaborating in monitoring changes in the ecological system of the Salish Sea. By marrying modern science with traditional local knowledge, the tribes and federal agencies hope to reverse the severe decline of the salmon fisheries and habitats of the saltwater region inside Vancouver Island and the Olympic Peninsula. Check out the short video about this inspiring project.

Sacramental Mission

The coastal temperate rain forest of North America, extending from Cook Inlet (Alaska) to Big Sur (California), is a magnificent incubator of Pacific salmon and steelhead trout. Historically, the Sacramento River was second only to the Columbia River in salmon production for this region. In modern times, both these and many other rivers in this rain forest have suffered from the thoughtless construction of impassable dams like Elwha, Grand Coulee and Shasta. While Elwha Dam is planned for removal, Grand Coulee remains a formidable obstacle in re-establishing the salmon economies of the Shuswap, Kalispell and Spokan Indians. The proposed raising of Shasta Dam is presently opposed by the Winnemem Wintu.

Undoing Destruction

Coast Salish Gathering commits to environmental action.

Good Old Days

(The e-mail text below is from my Sto:lo friend Darryl E. Bowles, who grew up in the woods near Elwha, Washington in the 1930s, and is now a retired seafarer and storyteller living in Nerja, Spain.)

I used to go to Celilo every year when I was a kid. It is quite difficult to describe what it was because it was still the biggest by far, open air market in the Northwest back then. People came from all over to trade, not only for fish but every conceivable item produced by Native people.

The most flamboyant were the Indians from around Yakima and Colville who brought some of the most beautiful horses I have ever seen. Not so much for trade but to show off. We didn’t have horses nor did we have any use for them and our boats could not make the trip around from Puget Sound and then up the river so our “Best” was never seen there.

Later on I sailed on the Columbia and was one of the first tugs to go through the new locks at the dam. (The largest in the world at that time.) Brought tears to my eyes as I knew what had been lost. The rest of the crew on the boat were white men and although they were all from around that area none of them had a clue. And when I tried to explain they all looked at me like I was nuts. THIS WAS AN IMPROVEMENT!

When I asked “For who?” They really thought I should be locked up.

The “Good old days” weren’t always so good to all of us.

Lummi Journey

Paddle to Lummi

Working Up Steam

While some skippers are content to silently swing at anchor, this one still prefers to make a pronounced wake. So pull in the fenders and post a lookout, because we’re getting underway.

Collected Stories

I immediately picked him up on our radar screen, and by the time we finished our mugup, could clearly see her rows of cabin lights steaming down the channel at a good clip. It was the first really large vessel we’d seen since leaving Seattle four days earlier, and was quite a sight all lit up. I was also glad we had clear visibility; I wouldn’t want to be dancing with her in the fog.

Then Sandy said, “He’s losing control of her in the current, see how his stern is being shoved our way? How much room do we have between us and the beach?” I stepped out the pilot house door, and yelled, “less than a quarter mile.”

[ From Narrow Escape, one of the stories in Life as Festival by Jay Taber ]

Hello world!

If you’ve ever watched a summer moon come up over a placid bay from the pilothouse, or hung on to the wheel as ocean waves crashed over a pitching foredeck, your memories are acutely aware that life has its ups and downs. In time, I hope to share some of my seafarer’s tales of those moments of intense joy or horror that elude most shoreside occupations. Maybe with luck, you’ll share some of yours.