A stunning vista of blue sky, ornamented with puffy cumulus and streaky stratus clouds, stretches into far-off hills of golden prairie and green forest. The deep water of the reservoir reflects the sky in its expansive, glassy surface. Large fiberglass, small sturgeon nose, and narrow dugout canoes trek up the river on their way to the sacred site Sx̌wnÍtkw. The site is at Kettle Falls, a waterfall on the Columbia River that was drowned in 1942 with the construction of the Grand Coulee Dam. The paddlers are praying for the return of the native runs of salmon, which all but vanished with the blocking and flooding of the river.

2024 is the ninth year that the journey has taken place, with canoes coming up from Wynecoop, WA in the south and down from Revelstoke, BC in the north, then meeting at the falls for the salmon ceremony after ten days of travel. The ceremony begins early, canoes heading across the river to the Sharpening Stone for song and prayer, then arriving at Sx̌wnÍtkw for more song and prayer, calling the salmon home. Afterwards, there is a lunch of smoked salmon and salads of native grains, fruits, and vegetables before the crowd slowly disperses, heading home with hearts full of prayer and hope for the return of the salmon.

“Red & Blue” with some of the Riverkeeper team, headed upstream on the Columbia River.

I was very fortunate to be able to participate in the annual salmon journey this year, joining on June 12th along with the other Riverkeepers (Katelyn, Katie, Liv, and Jule) and staying until the end. It was an experience unlike any I have ever had, wholly unique in its spiritual, physical, and emotional impact. I came away from it stronger and more connected in many ways, having fully immersed myself in nature, community, and culture. We spoke collectively about environmental stewardship and the importance of incorporating traditional ecological knowledge into modern science. We prayed for the return of the salmon and spoke about dam removal and sustainability. We sang and paddled along with the rushing rhythm of a river that has been silenced too long behind steel and concrete in the name of progress.

My view while paddling in “Red & Blue” on the Columbia River.

Despite the somber undercurrent of the journey, every day felt like a celebration. We would wake early, pray, enjoy breakfast and each other’s company, then pack up and push off to the cheers and song of the ground crew on the shore. When we landed in the late afternoon, the crew would be waiting on the shore with joyous shouts and whoops. We would pray again and eat dinner around the fire, then talk, play games, bead, and eat s'mores late into the night. It felt like a reawakening of spirit, both for people and the river.

Overall, this was an experience that will stick with me for the rest of my life, and I only hope that one day, the journey to call the salmon home will take place on a freed river that is bursting at the seams with the full capacity of the native salmon runs of the Northwest’s history. We can get there, but only if we work together to affect enormous changes. I’ll see you on the river.

limlmtx (thank you)