The Lummi Nation Issue (Winter 1994)

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Contents 2

18

Why The lummi?

Mark J. Lehner

Derek Martin 3

Reawakening

20

Kenny Cooper, Cha-das-ska-dum 4

The Cycle of Salmon

22

The Natural Hatchery

24

The Hatchery dilemma

25

Building Bridges, Not dams;

Nancy Hazzard On The Nooksack:

27

An Open Letter to the Lummi

Hellen Buller

Three Days in

Greg Heffron

City council Proposes Wall

Maurice Austin 28

THE Life of a River 16

Diving in Head First

Gillian Vik

Lummi Reach Out to Neighbors 12

A Tale of two wells

Gillian Vik

Barbara A. Borst 10

Lacandone

Rachel C. Platt

Brian Davis Reeves 8

XWOMIKSTEN

Darren Nienaber

Bob Burdman 6

Getting There

30

x'pai'epl

Michael D. Rayton

The Battle for arlecho

Michael Wewer

Sculpture by Yvonne Thomas

I

Writers: our staff distorter, is currently shared between The Planet and The Huxley Hotline. He is a creative writing major, a poet, and a dishwasher, and is graduating at the end of this term. Barbara A. borst is majoring in Environmental Policy and Assessment at Huxley. Hellen Buller is a journalism major and is also on staff at The Western Front. Bob Burdman transfered to Western this year and plans to pursue studies in communications and multimedia at Fairhaven College. Kenny Cooper, Cha-das-ska-dum, serves as the cultural specialist for the Lummi Nation. He is a well respected traditionalist and member of the ’seyown' society Nancy Hazzard is majoring in environmental journalism and plans to freelance as a writer and photographer. If she has any spare time, Nancy will explore underwater photography. Greg Heffron recently completed a self-designed major at Fairhaven focused on creative writing and literature. He hopes to pursue his newfound interest in kayaking, just as soon as the weather warms up. Mark J. Lehner is majoring in Environmental Policy and Assessment at Huxley, and is pursuing a minor in Native American studies. Darren Nienaber is taking a double major: Envi­ ronmental Policy and Assessment and Management. He intends to be an environmental consultant and a writer, and to ride his motorcycle around North America. Rachel C. Platt is a journalism major with a creative writing minor and is also currently a journalist on The Western Front. Michael D. Rayton is a Huxley student majoring in Environmental Science. He spends most of his free time hiking in the Pasayten and North Cascades or in the darkroom. Brian Davis Reeves is an English — creative writing major who tries to "seize the day" whenever his schedule permits. Gillian Vik is an environmental science major who spends too many hours studying organic chemistry. Michael Wewer is taking a self-designed major in Environmental History and Photojournalism. Through writing and photography he hopes to stir people's awareness of nature. Maurice Austin,

Cover Photo: Lummi Indian "Seyown" spirit dancers, L to R Joseph Bill, Thomas Tom, Frank Hillaire, Joe Hillaire, and Matt Paul. Courtesy of the Whatcom Museum of History and Art, Bellingham, WA. (Image # 2716)

The Planet - Winter 1994 Editor:

Derek Martin Managing Editor:

Richard Law Photo Editor:

Michael Wewer Advisor:

Michael Frome

Illustrators and Artists: is an ilustration major with a graphic design minor. She plans to start a free-lance business in the coming year. Lawrence Bergquist is majoring in graphic design. His cartoons have appeared in the Fishwrapper and the Western Front. Jean Kimmich is an illustration major whose work has appeared previously in the Western Front. JENNIFER M. LANE isa graphic design major. Yvonne Thomas is a Lummi artist who studied at the Institute of Native Indian Fine Arts in Santa Fe and at Evergreen State College. Elizabeth Baker

Illustration credits: Illustration on page 23 and computer-generated maps on pages 16 and 22 by Elizabeth Baker. Illustration on page 28 by Lawrence Bergquist. Illustrations on pages 12, 14 and 15 by Jean Kimmich. Illustration on page 4 by Jennifer Lane. Lummi Nation Emblem courtesy of Lummi Communi­ cations Department. Special thanks to the all those at Lummi without whose confidence and patience this issue wouldn ^t have been possible. Western Washington University's environmental quarterly, is student funded, written, and edited. The Planet, Huxley College Western Washington University Bellingham, WA. 98225 The Planet,

is printed on recycled paper with soybean ink. Please continue the cycle! The Planet

Derek Martin

WHY THE LUMMI?

After we returned from Clayoquot Sound and finished our “Clayoquot Compromise'’ issue of The Planet last quarter, one of the Friends of Clayoquot Sound sent me a video tape of a speech by Kenny Cooper at a rally in the sound. Kenny is a Lummi Indian who had gone to Clayoquot to give a speech to acknowledge and motivate the protesters. His words struck a deep chord in me: both the Lummi and The Planet were working toward the same goal, and even though the Lummi reservation is only across the bay from us, we had both journeyed the seven-hour trip to Clayoquot, perhaps passing each other on the way, and not known anything about each other’s efforts. This was what I was thinking of when Michael Frome, our faculty adviser, suggested an issue on the Lummi. Yet even though I could see the importance of getting to know these people, I could also foresee problems. The main one was that we were white people writing about Indians, following a very dubious tradi­ tion. Whites have labeled Indians as savages, as noble, as targets for so many bullets in western movies, and as being so spiritually connected to everything like in Dances With Wolves. But as one Lummi said to me, the Indian has told the white what he wants to hear, and the white has written what he wants to write. In the hopes of changing this, I decided that we should devote this issue to the Lummi. I didn't want to idealize the Lummi. I wanted to learn about the Lummi, to break down stereotypes by listening to their real stories, to get them to sit down with Western students and open lines of communication. I still think that this was a good goal to strive for, but also a very optimistic one. Lummi culture is far too complex for us really to do justice to in these few pages, especially for we who knew so little to begin with. Also, while we all attempted to meet individually with the Lummi, some students had an easy time getting information while others had a more difficult time. The Lummi are careful about the image they present, and are concerned with preserving their culture by allowing few 2 ThE Planet

Lummi to speak about it. The problem boils down to trust. The few weeks that we tried to pursue this issue were not enough to get to know one another well enough for trust to grow, yet I hope the seeds for future trust have been planted. But then, trust is easy for me. I am not one of those on the receiving end of prejudice. In a Femdale elemen­ tary school during a show-and-tell one white student showed an Indian skull found at Semiahmoo, a nearby burial ground. The teacher allowed this presentation, even though there were Lummi children in the back of the class. As there are only 3,500 Lummi, the Lummi children could well have thought that this skull was one of their great-grandmothers or grandfathers. I wonder how different it would have been if an Indian boy had brought in some bones he dug up in a Bellingham cemetery, saying: “Look what I found Miss Smith." I believe the best way to break down prejudice is with knowledge. I have heard a lot of prejudiced remarks against Canadians since I have been in Bellingham, and as I am Canadian I can't help but listen. But I have felt no prejudice against me from Americans who know me. I know that Canadians are discriminated against to a far lesser extent that the Lummi, but I hope that this same principle of accep­ tance through learning holds true. So read this issue and get to know a few of our Lummi neighbors and their concerns. We have done our best to listen to the Lummi and write what we have heard. They wanted to be called Lummi or Indians, not Native Americans, and we have respected this wish, and they didn't want to be just labeled as environmentalists so we did our best to write about their culture with what we could find out. So what you are getting here, while not a truly comprehensive coverage, is our experience with the Lummi. What information they gave to us was open and friendly, and with more time and effort their full story could be realized and an enduring link between the Lummi and Western forged.

Kenny Cooper,

Cha -da s-ska -DUm

REAWAKENING Excelpt from a speech given to the conference 'Reflections on Common Ground:500 years. ” We're indigenous people. We were here many, many years ago, and we're still here. We’re here because we love the land. We're here because we’ve learned how to walk on the land, and not trample on her. In the old days it was told that our old people wore moccasins so they could walk softly on Mother Earth and feel everything they were stepping on as they walked along. In our beliefs, the way we're taught as children, we go up to the mountains early in the morning when the snow is deep on the ground. We go up there with our poles and we bust the ice in the river in clean places, isolated and above the damages of mankind. We take off our clothes and ask permission to enter the land of the water people. We go into the water and we pray to the four directions. We speak to those four directions which are also the four colors—the red, black, yellow, and white—the colors of the four original races of Mother Earth. We were all one at one time before we got too smart for our own good, then they scattered us all over the face of the earth and give us a different tongue so we couldn’t communicate no more. We learn from the land what we need to know to honor and respect her and live in harmony with others and ourself. We go up there and we practice; we go swimming up in the mountains from November to April. We use those mountains. It’s not just something that we talk about. It's a reality. We use the mountains. We have Indian gear stored in the mountains. Our ancestors, some of them are buried in the mountains. Our medicines come from the mountains. Eighty-five percent of the drugs you buy in the stores comes from the mountain, from the medicine people. And ninety percent of what was here in the time of my old people is now gone. Gone to where? Gone for who? Gone to never come back as it was. When we go up to the mountain we fast <md pray and learn how to listen with our heart; our third ear. When we learn how to listen with this third ear, then you can talk to the trees. You can talk to the water. You can talk to the most patient thing God made: the rock. The rock knows how to wait. It is very patient. I use the rock to fast and pray and learn patience. Whatever it is we’re looking for, this third ear can hear it and teach us to talk. The only reason you don't think so is because you've been educated and talk from the mind. But our mind, in time, gets filled with the four sins and nothing can filter down to the third ear. If you don’t use it, you lose it. A lot of people don’t know how to use the third ear and it gets plugged up and it can’t hear. Nobody knows how to talk from down there, no more, so it don’t know how to talk no more.

Things are very hard when you come from an Indian family and you are pushed into a white school system, especially if you hear the Indian language when you’re growing up. And you hear the legends, like the stuff I'm talking about. How to live with Mother Earth. How to get along with one another. Then you go to school and they teach you things that you can’t live off of and mold our lives into—what? I’m not against education, but they must instigate into the system more things that are Indian. Our culture is something that is hard to talk about in a very short time. I’ve always said this watch is our worst enemy. When they gave us that, it was the worst thing they ever did to Indian people. We take the watch, put it on, and it leaves a mark. We get branded. It rules our life. I used to like it when I was growing up in Hoh River, on the Olympic Peninsula. We didn’t have no electricity. There was no roads. All we had was canoes to go back and forth up the river. It was a real good life, that way. Every night, when we got through with the day, everyone brought their food to the middle of the village. We would have a big feast of everything. After we were through eating, the elders would sit down and tell us Indian legends. The old people told us legends. We would get up in the morning and we would start over again. We would go out and gather our octopus, gather our smelt, our salmon, our deer, and our roots from the mountain. And at night we would come together and have the feast. Every day we broke bread together. Every day. Then some people come along and said, ‘If you cut a trail into your reservation and carry these big poles in and stand them up, we'll hook you up to free electricity.' That sounded good. So we got our axes and made a trail and we packed in the power poles. And we stood them up. Sure enough, we got electricity. And refrigerators. So we didn’t bring our food to the middle of the village no more. We could put it in the ‘fridge. Along with the refrigerator came the tall talking box: the radio. The radio came in and we didn't sit around and listen to the legends no more. We sat around and listened to stories that come with electricity and totally turned our culture around. Now, in 1991, we’re reawakening again. At our Northwest Indian College, they're teaching the language, basket making, canoe carving, totem pole carving, and drum making—anything pertaining to our Indian, due to our Councilmen—four of them are here, tonight. Here m 1991, we have a Council that can think with both minds— they’re not Just thinking from up here. I applaud them for that, because we’ve got to have back into our system: teaching our children how to get along with one another and how to love one another so we can hear all the words that we heard here today. TThe Planet 3

Bob Burdman

THE CYCLE OF SALMON

The old people of the household awaken at four or five in the morning and while still in bed they talk of the dreams they had or tell stories of times past. When dawn comes, they all rise from bed. The men go fishing until eight or nine o'clock, while the women prepare the morning meal. When the fishermen return they eat and discuss important events before returning to work for the day. This is how the typical day would start for most members of the Liitnmi Nation during the 1800's. Preparation of the fishing gear required many long hours of work from men and women alike; beginning returned from the sea. months before the & The preparations begin in June, when groups travel to where large numbers of willow trees grow. Plants and trees have to be gathered to make the fishing gear—the women collect bark and willow saplings to be used in the construction of reef nets. Each woman makes a section of net about two feet wide and six feet long. Twenty sections are woven together in two rows of ten each to make one reef net. The men gather cedar saplings for rope to. be used when fastening the reef net to anchors. When the time to fish comes, usually in late Sep­ tember, large rocks are taken by raft or canoe to be used as anchors for therreef nets, A tree on the shore is then chosen as a marker and the first boat lines up with the tree and drops anchor, with the other boats following until the net is in place. In the front of the net there are ropes running crossways, with grass guides tied in place to funnel the fish up to the net. When the net is in place all is quiet until the fish are seen. Each man has a post and stands ready to haul the net in. As the fish reach the center of the net the leader yells at all to lift the net and bring the canoes together. When the net reaches the surface the struggling fish cast a mist of water into the air, which, on sunny days' causes a rainbow to stretch from one end of the net to the other. This is the first catch of the sockeye salmon season. No other fishing season is waited for in such great anticipation, nor is there any other fish held in such

4 the Planet

high regard as the sockeye among the Lummi people. With the first catch each year there is a ceremony performe4in honor of the salmon. Winter fern, duckdowp, red painf cedar bark, and spice plants are gathered in preparation for the ceremony. The children have their backs painted and put duck-down in their hair. When the canoes come in, each child has a salmon laid across his or her arms. The fish are then carrif d tp the women w^ cook them. Before cooking though, each fish is laid down on a winter fem with its head toward the water. When all the fish are brought to shore in this same fashion, elders put kernels of spice plant and duck-dOWn and red paint in front of the fish and a bundle of shredded bark is lit to burn the food set in front of the salmom. This symbolic meal for the salmon shows the good will of the people to the fish. Then, the women, with duck-down in their hair and red paint on their arms and faces, prepare the fish to be cooked. As the fish are cooking an elder sings a spirit song. During this time the elder also speaks about the many different kinds of fish and where they, are caught and a gift is thrown in the water for each kiud of fish. When this is done, and the fish are cookeck^^e children are penuitted to eat first. When the children are done eating the salmon is passed out to individual families until all have had their fill, then the remaining salmon is dried while the sticks used in thd fire and the fish bones are put into the water. Finally, the children all gather to sing a song and dance around a tribal elder. Then, very quickly, all of the children rush away leaving the elder alone. This completes the first salmon eereinony, insuring that the salmon can be fished and will return the next year in abundance. I had the opportunity to go to the Lummi Indian reservation and speak with Jim Wilson, a sixty-sevenyear-old Lummi elder. Jim has fished for fifty-five years. He has eight children, and more than thirty grandchildren. Many things have changed for the Lummi people, from the number of salmon available to the way most families perform the first salmon ceremony. The reason

for the first salmon ceremony was to teach the younger generations the importance of the salmon. They still have the first salmon ceremony every year, but it has changed. “Nowadays you don't know whether you are going to get a salmon anymore” Jim said. I asked Jim about the symbolism in throwing the sticks and bones from the first salmon ceremony back into the water. He said this

preserved. When the salmon's natural habitat is lost and nature’s filtration system for the water becomes clogged from logging and wastes, our river and streams fill with silt and other debris. The salmon cannot survive when their eggs are continually being covered with silt; the runs diminish, the fish die out and do not return.

People thought it was going to last forever, On the way home from the Lummi Indian reservation I saw an eagle perched high up on a HAS THE IDEA THAT NOTHING WILL EVER GO AWAY. power line overlooking the Nooksack. I thought for a moment was to make sure that the salmon would return the next about the rights of the eagle and the Lummi to a clean year and as “a way of saying thank you.'’ environment with trees and food. I thought of how the Over the course of sixty-seven years Jim has seen salmon runs have decreased so that the Lummi have the rivers and salmon runs exploited to the point of near been forced to turn to newer, more efficient fishing extinction. Jim talked of days when there were many methods, an adaptation not so easy for the eagle. For fish with enough water to spawn. “In my time I filled a the Lummi, this means losing part of their cultural skitf up with salmon, you can’t do that now. The heritage, for the eagle it means losing habitat, viability salmon I was talking about—we can't even fish them in this region. And for all of us, it means losing a small, any more. People thought it was going to last forever, but irreplaceable part of this region that, like the so did I. It doesn't work that way. Everybody has the salmon, will not return once it is gone. idea that nothing will ever go away.”

so DID I. It doesn't work that way. Everybody

The Lummi people have always been conscious of the need to preserve and not overburden nature, that the habitat that surrounds the rivers and streams must be

A Lummi fishing viiiage in 1917, Asahel Curtis photographer, Whatcom Museum of History and Art (image # 3887) The Planet 5

Brian Davis Reeves

THE NATURAL HATCHERY

North fork of the Nooksack River The only fat Indians Lewis and Clark ever saw were the ones living here in the Pacific Northwest. When obesity was still considered a universal sign of prosper­ ity, these corpulent Indians were incredibly rich in resources. All along the rivers and out to the ocean, there was such an abundance of game, salmon, and shellfish, that these Native Americans could afford to be gluttons. The Lummi were too far north to have had any contact with that expedition, but at the time they were among the wealthiest Indians in the United States. That was a hundred and ninety years ago and almost everything has changed. They are now consid­ ered an independent nation within the U.S., but this sounds better than it actually is. The resources that were once theirs exclusively were taken by treaty, abused to the point of irreversibility, and then partially given back. Because of the Boldt decision, half of the annual commercial salmon catch in Washington, and therefore half the responsibility for maintaining a viable fishery, now belongs to Native Americans and is divided among the Pacific Northwest tribes. It is in their efforts to improve salmon habitat that the Lummi are being constantly frustrated. The first salmon I ever saw bumped into my legs as I was wading across an Alaskan stream in 1973. I was five. From the moment I stepped into that stream, my eyes had been focused on the other side, the dry rocks, my destination. The current was strong and my body listed upstream against it as I carefully shuffled one 6 The Planet

foot past the other over the slick rocks. Near the middle something solid bumped me and I looked down expecting to see a small log. Instead, I was looking, not at one salmon, but at hundreds of salmon. I stopped midstream, afraid to take another step. There were so many they didn't have room to swim around my little black rubber boots. And they had teeth, sharp looking teeth. My dad started explaining how harmless they were, but I wasn't listening. The current was pushing me one way and salmon kept bumping me the other. Alaskan salmon are big and I was positive the moment I tried to take another step I'd get knocked over. So my dad had to carry me the rest of the way across on his shoulders. If I had never been to Alaska and never seen a healthy river ecosystem, I might be able to look at the Nooksack, or any other river in Washington, and not get upset. All I can see now though is the damage that's been done, how much work is needed to repair it, and how little is actually being done. The Nooksack river used to be navigable by deep-keeled boats, but the diversion of water and the build-up of sediment have combined to drastically reduce the depth of the river. Salmon, especially the larger Chinook, require pockets of deep, cool water to rest in as they move upstream. What is important here, at least for the Chinook,

One year, not far from where I learned to fish, workers from the Alaskan department of fisheries were forced to airlift salmon with a helicopter. Heavy rains caused the Russian river to run so high that millions of extra gallons an hour were being tunneled through the narrow canyon. The salmon were stacking up in a pool below the rapids, so thick and red you could hardly see the water. Every few seconds a salmon would leap up into the white water, thrash wildly against the current, and be thrown back into the melee. The workers, in bright yellow chest-waders and orange rain parkas, stood among the salmon with their nets full, waiting for the helicopter. It would come swirling in low, just above the tree line, slinging a large perforated bucket. You couldn’t hear it coming because of the roaring water but the rotor kicked spray off the backs of the salmon and blew it into the faces of the workers as they loaded the bucket. Those men standing with their nets, looking like a group of bearded midwives in the rain, remind me that somewhere native stocks of salmon are still important. Several weeks later, after the high water had receded, fish bodies were scattered on the rocks in various states of decomposition. The smell was not pleasant, but bearable. In places, only the outline of fish was visible beneath white mounds of writhing maggots. Closer to the river the bodies were fresher, some still barely alive. As strange as it may sound, this is a sign of a healthy salmon population. Even though there are always some that never reach their birth streams, most of these salmon managed to spawn before dying. After more rain, the river rose again and flushed away the bodies as if they had never existed. None of this is sad or disgusting; it’s natural, and, unlike my faith in humankind, my faith in nature never wavers.

Brian Reeves

are the holes. There aren't enough left on large sections of the Nooksack and last year the water temperature in portions of the river reached seventy degrees. That may sound great for people to swim in, but it's lethal for salmon. What caused this increase in water temperature? El Nino? Global warming? No. The hot water in the Nooksack is just another unfortunate result of logging. Clear-cutting has removed the canopy cover over the small streams that feed the Nooksack and the sun easily warms slow, shallow water. Clear-cutting is also responsible for the extra cubic tons of sediment in the water that eventually settles over the spawning beds. Over-allocation of Nooksack water doesn’t leave enough to flush out the sediment. According to Merle Jefferson of the Lummi Nation, this vicious cycle has accelerated in the last fifteen years and, if we start now, it will only take the next hundred years to repair. In this age of scapegoats and finger pointing, commercial fishing has long been an easy target and often gets blamed for the shrinking numbers of salmon returning to spawn. At the Ballard Locks, they even blame California sea lions for the dismal numbers of salmon passing through. Overfishing and other natural predators may be a factor in the declining populations of salmon, but they aren’t the main problem. A proposed moratorium on all commercial and sportsfishing of salmon won't dramatically increase native stocks. Even at one hundred percent escapement (the number of salmon that escape to spawn) there aren’t enough undamaged and unpolluted spawning beds left on any of our rivers. For some species of salmon, it may already be too late. Some of the problems with the fishing industry can be attributed to a forni of governmental subterfuge. If people are able to buy salmon at the supermarket, order salmon at their favorite restaurant, and send smoked salmon to their relatives at Christmas, how can there possibly be a problem with the salmon populations? I suppose that question depends less on people’s palettes and more on their consciences. It will always be easier and cheaper to build hatcheries, to rear and release millions of salmon, than it will be to restore spawning grounds, but it’s these man-made hatcheries that should become obsolete—not the natural ones. Hatcheries were designed to supplement native stocks of salmon, not replace them. Unfortu­ nately, hatchery salmon have already usurped native stocks of salmon in many places. In a sense, hatcheries have become glorified, low-overhead versions of catfish farms. Salmon are bred, released, and return four years later fully grown. The consumer can’t tell the difference.

THE PLANET 7

Barbara A. Borst

THE HATCHERY DILEMMA

The Skookum Creek fish hatchery When the Lummi people speak of the old days, they always say that one could virtually walk across the Nooksack River on top of the salmon. Now it takes techniques such as aquaculture and fish hatcheries to perpetuate salmon populations. Logging roads, urban­ ization, clearcutting, pollution, overfishing, and dams have seriously damaged the natural spawning runs, and hatchery salmon now make up more than half the remaining salmon in Washington state. This is why the Lummi people built the Skookum Creek fish hatchery in 1968. The hatchery is run solely by the tribe and has been a welcome success in their community. “Fishing was all our people knew how to do,’’ Linda DeCoteau, Assistant Manager of the Salmon Enhancement Program at Skookum Creek, told me. “The idea was to create jobs for our people and it 8 THE PLANET

succeeded." Linda and others at the hatchery explained to me how it works. The hatchery releases about four million Coho salmon each year into the creek which drains into the Nooksack River. Most of the Coho reach the ocean and travel as far north as Alaska and as far south as California. Once they mature in the ocean, the salmon naturally return to their native river to spawn. Upon their return to freshwater they quit feeding, then travel as much as several hundred miles upstream, following their innate sense of smell. When the hatchery salmon return to spawn, their eggs are taken from them, incubated, and then allowed to hatch. As soon as the young salmon, or fry, grow to the smolt stage, at about eighteen months, they are released. This process is then repeated, insuring a continued salmon run through

The Planet 9

Michael Wewer

the aid of human technology. In recent years, however, the number of salmon returning to spawn at Skookum Creek has sharply decreased. About four years ago, the hatchery was getting back around sixteen thousand Coho. In a one-year time span, that number dropped to about five thousand. The actual cause for the decline has not been confirmed, but speculations abound. The El Nino has been suggested as one possibility, but represents only one year in four in which the returning populations decreased. This phenomenon, El Nino, displaces cold water currents with warm, forcing salmon north away from The Skookum Creek fish hatchery United States waters. Others believe that Canadian anglers have taken the lion's share of available salmon, containers, or troughs, with grill-like bottoms that or that the hatchery salmon simply cannot adapt to the allow water to pass, simulating a natural habitat. Each wild streams and rivers, having been reared in a tame trough holds about 165,000 eggs. I saw a dozen such environment. troughs filled with eggs, hatching eggs, recently Indeed, research does show that problems develop hatched fry, and older fry. When the salmon reach four among hatchery-raised salmon. Hatchery salmon adapt months, they are transferred to the four ponds outside, to concrete runways, but have a hard time on rocky beds each with a 333,000 fish capacity. At eighteen months of streams and rivers. When they interbreed with wild of age, the fry are released into the creek. As Bill salmon, they saturate the population with these deficien­ showed me around, I began to recognize how impor­ cies. This affects the salmon's ability to adapt to tant the hatchery project is to all the Lummi, not just to environmental changes. As an elderly Queets Indian the people who work there. It symbolizes a continu­ fisherman describes it in Bruce Brown's classic book, ance, not only of the salmon population which the MQuntainJLn_the_Cioud_s, “You can tell the difference ABOUT FOUR YEARS AGO, THE HATCHERY WAS GETTING BACK between wild fish and AROUND SIXTEEN THOUSAND COHO. IN A ONE-YEAR TIME hatchery fish the minute SPAN, THAT NUMBER DROPPED TO ABOUT FIVE THOUSAND. you cut them open. The wild ones are redder fleshed, and firmer. They fight harder too—as if they’ve Lummi have lived on for centuries, but of the culture got some urge to live that a hatchery fish doesn't.'’ itself. Through genetic isolation, whole stocks of hatchery Lummi friends explained that salmon are essential salmon are raised with homogeneous traits. This results to the survival of the culture of all Northwest Coast in genetic weaknesses—for example, if a disease is Indians. The salmon is to the Northwest Indians what introduced to the hatchery environment, the population the buffalo once was to the Plains Indians. As Victor is far more apt to be susceptible to an epidemic than B. Scheffer writes in A Voice for Wildlife. “It is an wild salmon. This susceptibility to disease, however, integral part of their way of life, and any tampering also in turn threatens the wild population with the with their ancient fishing rights constitutes a threat to possibility of contamination. An acceptable risk though, their cultural survival that goes far beyond the issues many would say, when weighed against the extinction of between conservationists and recreationists.'’ entire salmon runs. Fisheries biologists fear that artificial propagation When I toured the Skookum Creek Hatchery in the of salmon will ultimately kill the wild runs, however, company of its manager. Bill Finkbonner, the hatchery because we have degraded natural spawning areas with had just received nine hundred pounds of fish eggs, a dams and logging, and have over-fished our waters, mass of small pink balls, each with two minuscule eyes. hatcheries have become essential to shoring up 1 watched the eggs being placed into large, flat metal declining salmon populations until alternative solu­ tions can be fonnulated and tested.

Nancy Hazzard

BUILDING BRIDGES, NOT DAMS; LUMMI REACH OUT TO NEIGHBORS

In the past couple of decades, many non-Indians have taken on the tag of “environmentalists.” Indians, by their very nature and values, don’t need this label anymore than they’ve needed any label attached to them over time; they have always had a respect for and connection with their environment. People from many different backgrounds are waking up to environmental problems and attempting to find solutions. Certain governmental agencies and local corporate groups are showing concern. Motives for these actions may be mixed, but it’s a start. The point of this article is to show that these cooperative efforts do exist. The Lummi have been fighting hard to preserve natural resources within the Nooksack Basin. In their opinion, no one entity outside of Nature can claim ownership of natural resources, be it water, land, fish, game or timber. It is the right of humans to care for all living beings, take only what is needed, and replenish what is taken. The Lummi often work closely with members of the Nooksack Tribe, the only other Indian community within Whatcom County. Both tribes also deal with other Northwest Washington Indian communities, nonIndian landowners, corporations and state agencies. While environmental concerns are a primary issue, the Lummi enjoy intertribal cooperation on education and tribal self-governance issues as well. Although individual Indian communities have internal problems and don’t always find constant agreement with neighboring tribes, the bottom line is consistent: preservation and respect of the Earth. Bob Davis, Deputy Director of Policy for the Lummi Department of Natural Resources, explains the function of the intertribal joint technical team: “We try to meet once a month. The main players (are the)...Nooksack, Tulalip, Upper Skagit, Swinomish, Stilaguamish, Makah, Nisqually, Muckleshoot, Suquamish, and we’ve also had some cooperation with Quinault. “Thermal cover is one goal...we’ve run into prob­ lems with the watershed; thermal cover for the elk and deer was being cut at a rapid pace. The elk herd was disappearing, as well as the deer. lO The Planet

We went into a plan of just staying out of the elk’s corridor (for hunting), but in the meantime, while we entered into this ‘contract’ (with the Washington Department of Wildlife), all the cutting kept going on. This disturbs me...we’re trying to stay out, trying to build the herds back up, and then private landowners come in and tear their home down. What the heck are they doing? If we’re not taking the kill (game) that we’re entitled to, there shouldn’t be any forest cutting in there. But the tribes are all trying to work together on this.” Cooperation between tribes and state and county governments is essential. The situation gets extremely complicated, as many Indian tribes, such as Lummi and Nooksack, are sovereign entities; treaties are negotiated only with the federal government, not state, county or city. Tribes do, however, consult with state and local agencies on devising solutions. The Nooksack Tribe, located in Deming, exchanges valuable data with the Lummi. Dale Griggs, Director of Fisheries for The Nooksack Tribe explains: “We are exchanging information and share much on environ­ mental issues regularly. Over the last year, the Nooksack Tribe has served notice on most of the other tribes in the region that TFW (state committee on Timber, Fish and Wildlife) was not working adequately to preserve resources. So we’ve started shifting our emphasis away from the TFW...it’s constant negotia­ tion.” Griggs pointed out that some environmental groups have recently sued the EPA for not upholding the Clean Water Act. Environmental groups, such as Audobon and the Greater Ecosystem Alliance, also work closely with Northwest tribes on environmental issues. “We (the tribes) work well together...as far as fish in general, ecosystem health and how to get things done, because we’ve taken things out of the hands of TFW. And it’s important that we work outside of the EPA soup,” Griggs said. To this end, the Lummi are trying to finance a biologist separate from the state to investigate these issues in order to maintain a data base of their own. Griggs did point out, however, that disagreement on fishing numbers and percentages does

Raynette Finkbonner, Lummi Coordinator for arise between the Nooksack and Lummi; two court the Self-Governance Demonstration Project, points cases are currently pending between the two tribes. out the importance of control in Lummi environ­ Aside from these differences, the Lummi and Nooksack combine efforts on many programs such mental concerns: "Our land, the natural resources, as their annual chum broodstock project. Members have direct implications and meaning to our daywork together setting nets on the Nooksack River to-day life...they always have. A critical concern to collect young salmon and transport them to a at the bottom of all this is sovereignty jurisdiction nearby hatchery to rebuild stocks. of our land, water and natural resources. This is The Lummi and Nooksack are also trying where our ties are." to get approval on a fish ladder at the Nooksack While intertribal cooperation is critical, the Middle Fork dam. Opinions have varied in the Lummi and other tribes are truly concerned with past over whether spawning salmon could make it working with non-Indian people, corporations and through, even with a fish ladder present. Griggs agencies. No one person likes to be made to feel says he has no doubt they could. that they're wrong or to receive blame. But, Lummi and Nooksack are among several without exception, those who are willing to learn Washington tribes belonging to the Environmental will reap the greatest of benefits. Policy Committee (EPC). The EPC is completely Obviously, local corporations such as Trillium separate from state commit­ tees such as Timber, Fish WE'RE TRYING TO STAY OUT, TRYING TO BUILD and Wildlife, Water Re­ THE HERDS BACK UP, AND THEN PRIVATE LANDsources, and the Water OWNERS COME IN AND TEAR THEIR HOME DOWN. Caucus. Tribal representa­ What the heck are they doing? tives meet to discuss envi­ ronmental policy issues and decide how to implement selected proposals. and Georgia Pacific need to worry about restric­ Lummi and Nooksack representatives have tions imposed upon them by legislation such as the numerous channels for devising solutions before Endangered Species Act. If operations severely approaching Congress. Some of these include the affect endangered species such as the Spotted Owl, Tribal Water Quality Coordination meeting, Coho and Chinook salmon, no one will win. working with the Department of Natural Re­ Corporate logging activities will be shut down. sources, Timber, Fish and Wildlife, Northwest Therefore, in addition to tribal cooperative Indian monthly meetings (which determine policy efforts, local government, landowners and and financial allocation), Water Quality Authority corporations must be willing to give. To their meetings, and many others. credit, Trillium, one of Whatcom County's Another program which has enjoyed enormous largest logging corporations, has been doing some success within the past five years is the Tribal of this needed giving. Self-Governance Demonstration Project. This "My boss (Merle Jefferson) went to Trillium project, however, does not eliminate the Bureau of about this (forest management practices). Indian Affairs (BIA) completely. As stated in the They asked, 'Why did you pick on us7' Merle preface of the project's introductory guide, '‘Selfsaid, 'Well, you're the biggest ballplayer in Governance returns decision making authority and our watershed, so we want to come to the best and management responsibilities to Tribes. Self biggest first. If we can get you to go along with Governance is about change through the transfer of what we're trying to do, the other landowners and Federal funding available for programs, services, industry will follow along in the Nooksack water­ functions, and activities to Tribal control. Tribes shed.' And they agreed, so now we're having are accountable to their own people for resource meetings. Of course they don't want to get shut management, service delivery, and development." down, but they're willing to talk," Davis said. The Self-Governance Project is involved in Trillium has now agreed to finance a recovery environmental issues and resource management, in plan. addition to many other areas. It allows individual Jewell James of The Lummi Tribe's Treaty tribes to decide where best to use funds and how to Protection Task Force perhaps best expressed the control their own communities, without affecting hopes for a continued cooperation during his other tribes. Individual tribal needs are met by speech at the "Reflection on Common Ground: placing control at the local level. This is 500 Years" conference held recently in Seattle: extremely important on environmental issues, "Look for the next Full Moon and remember the because, while traditional values of natural re­ Moon's Prayer: 'O Mighty Spirit, Great Father, sources are common to Indian tribes throughout Forgive us for not loving Mother Earth; but, the country, specific needs and concerns vary by saveher for the Children.'" geographic location and tribe. t>ie

Planet 11

Greg Heffron

ON THE NOOKSACK: THREE DAYS IN THE LIFE OF A RIVER A long time ago, a man of the Swallah people from Orcas Island was murdered hy the Skalakahn people who lived at the mouth of the Nooksack River To avenge this murder, the mans brother sought out and obtained a spirit power which helped him to kill all but a few of the Skalakahns. The Skalakahn people that survived gave over the Nooksack River to this hero and his descendants to have for salmon fishing. In this way, the people of the islands came to live on what is now the Lummi reservation.

January 31, 1994 The sign at the mouth of Skookum Creek is clear. Where this main tributary feeds into the South Fork of the Nooksack River, just outside the small town of Wickersham, a white, metal gate bars vehicle access to the clear-cut ridge line that borders the creek. Across the width of the gate, scrawled in letters that belie an angry hand, are the words, “GO HOME ENVIRONMENTALIST COCKSUCKERS.” The message stops me—a reminder of where I am, of who now lays claim to this territory, of how strong the emotional current draws through these parts. After an involuntary glance over my shoulder, I snap a photo and stumble up through the thigh-deep growth at the base of the cut hillside. Fish, dead from high water temperatures, were found in streams in Skookum Creek Watershed on Wednesday and Thursday of this week, according to fisheries staff at Lummi Nation.. .Decreased average water depths means the sun warms the water faster, degrading water quality for the fish who need cool water to thrive. A problem is the filling in of the deeper pools in the streams, places where fish naturally congregate to avoid the warm shallow waters. Most of the pools in the Skookum Watershed have been filled in by siltation... Lummi Press Release, Aug. 5, 1993 Skookum Creek is the first of my three locations to view the Nooksack River. A river without which, as one person on the reservation mentioned, the Lummi would not exist. Could a non-expert like myself go to the Nooksack and see, even in the most basic way, evidence of the environmental degradation I had read about? White settlers have only been in Whatcom County for a century and a half. Would I still see signs of what the Nooksack was like when the Lummi held sovereignty over this land? From the top of the clear-cut, I look three-hundred feet down a precipi­ tous slope, which then drops another two hundred near-vertical feet to the creek bed. Here and there, a replanted sapling pokes up as high as the tangled overgrowth, greener and more hopeful than the artificial Christmas tree my folks kept tor years in a box in our garage. Along the point where the steeper slope begins, a thin line of the original

12 The Planet

trees have been left standing. I am curious to traverse to the edge and look over. Even with roots to bind the slope together, I don't understand how anything could stick to such an angle; with the trees removed, it seems the soil wouldn’t have a chance. But I am too sweaty and full of stickers for further clear-cut hiking. A logging road across the ravine provides a better view and easier travel. Lo^ production in Whatcom County continued to increase steadily until it reached a maximum of 147.7 million board feet in 1925. In that year, denudation of the forested areas in low-land Whatcom County was complete... After 1925, logging operations moved into more mountainous portions of the Nooksack River Valley. Curtis Smelsej; environmental scientist From the other side of the canyon, the view of the wall above the creek is both surprising and predictable. What surprises me is the amount of foliage. This is especially noticeable upstream from the clear-cut, where vertical walls ot rock are entirely covered by a plush layer of moss and ferns. It is like a travel poster for the Amazon. Gaudy, almost—it is so entirely draped in emerald flora. From a ledge the size of a dinner tray, a single tree grows on a cliff so steep that if I could shinny up to the tree’s tip, I would still be able to reach out and touch rock. But downstream, this hanging garden is cut by several erosion troughs. Ten feet wide and replete with whole displaced trees, root systems intact, hanging upside-down above the creek bed, these channels begin at the cliff top with ten feet of exposed dirt and travel down the wall in streaks of greenish-brown to great heaps of debris along the bank of the creek. Under natural conditions, sediment loads in the streams measured 10 parts per million or less. By comparison, suspended sediment concentrations in a stream immediately downstream from an improperly logged area exceeded 70,000 ppm—a measured increase of 7,000 times the natural sediment content. Federal Water Pollution Administration The road wanders away from the Skookum for two miles, then brings me down close again. The hillside isn’t as steep here and I hike to the water through brush stripped clean by winter. All around are thickets of slim alder trees, no bigger around than my leg, their bark splotched in a white-gray the color of ash. The creek runs slow in this open valley. Like the walls downstream, everything near the creek is covered in a coat of shaggy moss which the slanting winter sun seems to light from within. The contrast makes the pale alders look even paler, a mass of intersecting vertical stripes. As if someone has carefully, repeatedly, drawn a piece of chalk over a landscape painting. Leaving the creek, I seek the easiest path back to the road. The growth is thinner in spots and I make my way according to the path of least resistance. I come across a hoof print in the leaves. A deer, perhaps. It is large, though. An elk? In another fifteen feet I notice more prints and some droppings. I am following the same path as the deer! I feel the pleasure of a greenhorn outdoorsman, of interpreting the natural obstacles and following them just like an animal in the wild. Some smaller prints step alongside the larger ones. A mother and her young? The prints lead up a small slope and as I step up and over, I come across a stump. It is red cedar, like the trees that once covered Whatcom County. Grainy, amber-tinted photographs from the turn of the century show bearded men in front of trees, eighteen and twenty feet in diameter. “Ten hugs around” they used to say. The stump in front of me is seven feet wide. Not so big. I forget about the hoof prints and look up at the alders, imagining the time when the Lummi tracked elk through the giant conifers that once filled this valley. And the time, in later years, when these hills were all a mass of sticker bushes, loose dirt, debris, stumps. Some of the timber... around lake Whatcom was of tremendous size, and the stand per acre was so heavy that the cruisers' figures were often questioned. [In 1H9H1, in order to cut one tree near Alger, two nine-foot saws were brazed together Donald Clark, logging historian Through the policy of clear-cutting...approximately 250,000 acres offorest were removed from the Nooksack River basin between 1H90 and 1937...By 1937, most of the 116,4H0 acres of the South Fork basin had been logged out. Curtis Smelser environmental scientist

the

Planet 13

February 3, 1994 The sky is windless and clear; the temperature, just below freezing when I put my kayak into the Nooksack at the small town ot Everson. Several weeks without rain in this seventh year of drought has left the water especially low. For fifty feet I pull along the bottom with my hands until it is deep enough to paddle. There was once a big stern wheeler boat used to come up the Nooksack River.. Nowadays you couldn’t make that boat float around at all. Too shallow. The big industry up the river took so much water out. When the river gets shallow it harms the fish; they can’t get up. There’s no current to wash the river out. It just gets green and polluted. They have big three, four-foot pipes using this water. / was one who went back to Washington D.C. to have my say. I talked to a man in the Bureau of Indian Affairs., .and he said the Lummi Indians solely own the Nooksack River... But he said there's nothing the Lummi can do to get the water away from the industries. They already have it. Ronomus "Toddy” Lear, Lummi Elder The exposed river bed is made of light gray gravel and stones, never bigger than a fist, and of charcoal gray sand. Along the banks are blackberry bushes and scraggly trees or, just as often, artificial dikes made from “riprap” -blocks of stacked concrete roughly the size and weight of a V-8 engine, used to reduce the river's tendency to cut new channels and spread onto the flood plain during high water. Gravel and riprap are mostly what I see during my four hour trip; from down in the channel, I can't look over the bank to the miles of flat farmland around. Homesteads were chosen adjacent to the river and subsequently cleared prior to farming. Removal offorest vegetation from the river banks accelerated the natural process of bank erosion [andj increased sediment input into the drainage system. Curtis Smelset: environmental scientist I pass a group of nearly twenty bald eagles early in the day, but see little wildlife for the rest of the trip. Just a few seagulls and ducks, and two pairs of absurdly thin Blue Herons, their legs dangling behind as they fly, delicate as balsa wood. On the river today, the most common creatures are the fishermen, lined along the bank in well-used pickup trucks. Some are friendly and talkative. Some just nod as I drift by. One cries out as I pass, “You're scaring the fish!” But as far as I can tell, the fishermen haven't caught anything today. Mostly, the men just sit, watching and drinking coffee. Their pole tips motionless as the river moves by. As late as IH90, many farmers of Whatcom County pitchforked the lordly salmon out of the streams... and used them by the wagon loads as fertilizer for the soil or as feed for hogs. Lottie Roth, historian It s difficult to see the bottom despite the shallow depth of the water. Anything deeper than two feet remains hidden in a brown sediment haze and I wonder how this affects the salmon's ability to take oxygen from the water. North American White Perch die from gill-clogging when sediment concentrations reach 19,000 milligrams per liter. What would we do if our air pollution increased by 7(K),0(K) percent? A hellish view of Los Angeles in future centuries. 14 The Planet

February 5, 1994 By the time I zip up my wetsuit and walk back to the river, the sun has melted the fine layer of ice on my kayak. The current is slow at Marietta Bridge as I push off towards the mouth of the Nooksack; my return trip upstream will not be difficult. In 1HH3, the settlement of Marietta was platted ...on the shore of Bellingham Bay, directly opposite the mouth of the [Nooksack]... In 1891, Marietta still retained its shoreline position... By 1905, the delta had more than doubled its 1891 size and the hay near Marietta was beginning to shoal badly... By 1947, the emerged-land...had more than quadrupled its 1905 area and it had advanced approximately 1.25 miles into the bay... At present, the [river] delta continues to advance seaward at a rapid rate. Curtis Smelset; environmental scientist The occasional car crosses the bridge behind me, breaking the quiet of the water as I paddle past fishing sheds on the Lummi side of the river. Newer boats are tied up at makeshift docks or rest out of water, on trailers. Three old dingys, sunk near the river's edge, are half-submerged in river silt. I try to resist seeing them as a metaphor. Once, a lemg time ago, the Salmon Woman took her children and went away. Some say she went away because the Lummi children did not appreciate the gift that Salmon Woman gave to them. Some say it was because her husband--the great Lummi leader, Raven--had been abusive to her. When her children were gone, the Lummi began to starve and everyone was unhappy. Beyond the shacks, there are no roads. Only thin, pale trees and calm water. Ahead ot me, a Blue Heron takes ott and flaps 100 feet down river. As I approach, it flies again, keeping its distance as I paddle toward the mouth. The land around is beautiful and untouched, this newly-created land. As I draw to shore, pushing through the thin skin of ice on the water, I can almost forget how and why it is here. How and why I am here. I have read that at the current rate of sediment load, the Port of Bellingham will fill with Nooksack silt in four hundred years. Across the Bay, a great, gray GearBulk cargo ship is moored on the water below my indiscernible house. I think ot the “seaside” town of Marietta. Four hundred years. What will the view be then? The people were suffering and they asked Raven to find Salmon woman and to plead with her to come back and live with them. Raven knew she had a good heart and so he went upriver to ask her forgive­ ness. Over and over; he promised her that he and his people would never again show disrespect to her and her chiIdrxm. After a time, Salmon Woman came close and boarded the canoe. She would come back. But first, there were going to have to be some changes.

The Planet IS

Michael Wewer

THE BATTLE FOR ARLECHO “They cut the mountains until they slide into the streams, destroying our salmon. They cut all the trees, leaving us no place to store our traditional gear. They take down the mountains and walk off with the money, leaving us scars on the land and in our hearts."

and learn how to listen with our heart: our third ear. When we learn how to listen with this third ear, then you can talk to the trees. You can talk to the water."

The remaining old-growth in the Arlecho Creek basin is one ot the areas Seyown practitioners seek the — Ken Cooper “Cha-das-ska-dum’ se'li' (spirit), their sti'lem (song) and temanowes (power). These areas are valued because of their purity, The Arlecho Creek Basin of Whatcom County is privacy, isolation, and seclusion. According to the one of the areas sacred to the Lummi Nation. This area Lummi Cultural Resource Center, traditionalists place is home to 552 acres of ancient forest, 452 of which their ceremonial regalia in the area as part of their comprise the largest privately owned stand of old offering to the Creator. growth remaining in Puget Sound. The Lummi Nation Potential historic use, artifacts, and possible burial opposes continued clear-cutting within the basin and areas are all of specific archaeological importance. The has been the most vocal and influential group seeking, Lummi have corroborated with an archaeologist from in conjunction with numerous other groups, to gain the National Parks Service to determine the possibility public and private funds to purchase and preserve this of preserving these sites. tract of ancient forest. In addition, the Arlecho Basin is invaluable to the The story of Arlecho Creek does not fit into the continued well-being of the Lummi fisheries program. controversial Clinton Forest Plan that protects the Downstream from Arlecho, the Lummi run the Skookum Spotted Owl and its old growth habitat in federal Creek Fish Hatchery. Since 1968, an average of 4.5 million salmon have been released from the hatchery annually. Yet due to heavy timber harvests in upstream areas, sedimentation has increased in Skookum Creek. This, in turn, builds up in the hatchery, threaten­ ing fish stocks. According to the Lummi Department of Fisheries, it Clearcuts > 5 yrs. old is estimated that over 200 Clearcuts < 5 yrs. old yards of sand and silt National Forest Line ‘ coming into the hatchery National Forest from upstream will have to be removed from the settling Old Growth Forest pond and raceways this year. “As far as the Lummi are concerned, siltation from the clear-cut would make the hatchery no longer viable.'’ forests. The ancient forests around Arlecho Creek are Arlecho and Skookum Creeks are also spawning owned by a private company—Mutual of New York grounds for Chinook Salmon. Chinook runs have been (MONY)-and in this case it is the state that regulates declining, and are nearly depleted to the point where the land, leaving no federal protection for the area. they will have to be placed on the endangered species The Lummi Nation and the Nooksack tribe have list. The proposed logging of Arlecho would decrease significant spiritual and cultural sites located within these spawning areas even further, thereby having ill the Arlecho basin in which they practice traditional effects on all ot those in the local fishing industry, both rituals such as the Seyown (Indian Song) and gather Lummi and non-Lummi alike. materials for ceremonies—materials which are only In 1990, Merrill Ring Green and Crow (MRGC), a available in old-growth forests such as Arlecho. Ken local land-management group in charge of the Arlecho Cooper, a respected traditionalist and member of the Basin, announced plans to harvest the remaining “over 'Seyown' society, speaks of this tribal practice: mature'’ timber in Arlecho by 1995. In the fall of 1993, MRCG conducted a voluntary Watershed Analysis. The “When we go to the mountain we fast and pray Wcishington State Department of Natural Resources 16 The Planet

Mike and Mark at Arlecho

John Thompson

reviewed the study and found a number of omissions or inadequacies that needed to be addressed prior to final acceptance by the DNR. In addition to causing harm to water quality, the clearing of this forest would cause a diverse species of wildlife, ranging from deer and elk to the Marbled Murrelet to become vulnerable. The Marbled Murrelet was placed on the endangered species list in October, 1992. These seabirds nest exclusively in the high, moss-covered branches of oldgrowth forests. The Arlecho Creek Basin, located only 19 miles from the sea, provides the murrelets with an ideal habitat. According to the Washington Department of Wildlife, threatened murrelets were discovered in Arlecho old-growth in 1991. However, MRCG has denied requests for further surveys. The murrelet’s discovery was vital to the reclassifi­ cation of this ancient forest. The purchase of the land was reclassified in 1992 from Class III to Class IV—the most restrictive classification the DNR can designate to a Forest Practice Application. This means that a State Environmental Policy Act survey of possible imminent threats to the environmental degradation, or imminent danger to private property, public health and safety is studied and evaluated before any decision to log can be approved. Although it is not required under state policy, local governments can request a survey of cultural and economic impacts as well. Other species such as deer and the declining elk populations are dependent on this ancient forest as well, especially during the winter months, when the forest's

thick canopy of trees supplies thermal cover. Theodore Muller, the Regional Habitat Resource Manager of the Washington Department of Wildlife, confirmed that MRCG did complete a “Wildlife Report” which took a “broad brush” look at the wildlife impacts in the basin. “In my opinion” he said, “that report was fairly superficial. It contained mostly unsupported opinion and conjecture.” The protection and management of these vital resources are of great importance to the Department of Wildlife and the Department of Natural Resources. The Lummi Nation’s interests are even greater, for their culture and history are tied to this forest as well. Jewell James and Kurt Russo from the Lummi Treaty Protection Task Force have been involved in this issue since 1990. Their goal is to raise funds—approximately $18 million—to purchase this land from the current owners, MONY, so that it can be preserved. Public and private assistance will be needed to purchase the land and establish a long-term preservation and management plan. Linda C. Bock, vice-president of Communications (for MONY), stated that “...we intend to be active during 1994 in meeting with various groups interested in the future of Arlecho Creek, and we are open to all ideas pertaining to its future management.” The Lummi Nation has been successful in the past with similar land acquisitions, such as Madrona Point, a historic Indian site located on Orcas Island. Russo and James hope the same for Arlecho, as Russo explains, “The battle for the (old growth) remnants will hopefully lead to the future preservation and acquisition of this land.” If Arlecho is acquired, the Lummi Nation, the DNR, and the Washington Department of Wildlife will take part in its management. The site will be used for fisheries enhancement. Native American cultural practices and programs in environmental education which will be administered through Western Washington University and the Northwest Indian College. If Arlecho is lost, the last old-growth forest in the region will be gone forever, and with it the spiritual and environmental values unique to this ancient place.

TNe Planet 17

Mark j. lehner

GETTING THERE startled by a retreating grouse. Looking up toward Entering the ancient forest was like a shift through the horizon, I noticed a change in the landscape. On time. We had crossed a window into the past. the crest of the ridge, the afternoon sun illuminated a Towering mountain hemlocks flanked the entrance different forest structure. Large trees stood out from to the ancient forest boundary. These Hemlocks were the adjacent crop-like stand, intruding like weeds in a sentinelS“guardians of the old forest. Episodes of the manicured lawn. television show, “The Land of the Lost,” flashed I recognized the multilayered canopy of oldthrough my head, but this place was more peaceful. Not growth, the craggy tops of ancient trees, each a dinosaur in sight. It was a tranquil primeval forest, an reacting differently over hundreds of years to storms, example of the glacial process of change. My friend wildfires, disease, and available light. The faint trail Mike and I had arrived at the Arlecho Creek basin, the had vanished, forcing us to leave a trail of blaze largest remaining privately owned stand of ancient orange markers to show our way back as we slowly forest in the Puget Sound region, all 452 acres of it. continued cross-country in pursuit of the ancient Traffic was sparse on the North Cascades Highway forest. the January morning we made our way toward Sedro Soon, the desolate tree plantation gave way to a Wooley, and the weather turned bitterly cold as we beautiful old-growth mosaic. Here it was obvious headed up into the quiet foothills of the Cascades. where man had replaced The maze of unmarked natural disorder with neat logging roads, leading rows. Abruptly the forest through the checkerboard composition changed from pattern of alternating raw evenly-aged young Douglas clearcuts and commercial firs to prehistoric oldtree farms, made it nearly growth--a miracle of impossible for us to orient complexity. The boundary ourselves. Our only land­ was as clear as the weather; marks were the Twin Sisters after spending five hours mountain peaks, the daugh­ journeying through the ters of Mount Baker to sterile brown floor of tree native peoples of the area. farms, Arlecho was an We spent the majority of oasis in the middle of a the day riding and hiking on desert. abandoned snow-covered The old-growth forest at Arlecho We took a break in logging roads in pursuit of between two giant Douglas the elusive patch of ancient firs, perhaps some of the largest in Arlecho. I heard a forest near Arlecho Creek. woodpecker, working on the wrinkled bark of an Lost and weary from the journey, I began to ques­ ancient fir, a world of varied shelter for bats, spiders, tion the significance of Arlecho. Maybe it was the sheer ants, and tiny mammals. inaccessibility of the place that made it unique. The This place was textbook old-growth. The low to place was certainly isolated, and after a couple of hours mid-elevation forest contained valuable Western Red of hiking I began to think we wouldn’t find it. My Cedar and moisture loving hemlock. Ghostly Silver attention wandered until a cocked alder branch cracked firs and the most dominant of all conifers, the my face like a whip. I felt like I had just been repri­ Douglas fir, blanketed the steep hillside. A lush manded by the place. What was so special about carpet of salal, Oregon grape, and swordfem flour­ Arlecho? Who cares about an isolated and fragmented ished where the afternoon sun penetrated the broken patchwork of old-growth? I wasn't an Indian or a canopy—nature unleashed. Marbled Murrlet, what did this place mean to me? I You can feel an ancient forest. cursed at the overgrown road. We pushed on. So characteristic of old-growth, tiny hemlock Some time later, my mind again wandering, I was 18 1>iE Planet

TVie Planet 19

Michael Wewer

seedlings grew slowly on the moist and shaded fallen entity, a place where we can learn from the wisdom of cedars. Dead trees are the life of the forest, providing evolution. nutrients for the next generation of sapplings. Large As Lummi advocate Kurt Russo said, “Arlecho is a downed trees crisscrossed the forest floor, nobly battle for the remnants...that’s all there is left." A accepting their vital role in the ecological stratification Department of Natural Resources forester, Joe Blazek, of the forest. They hold the fragile soils in place, and act as life boats A LUSH CARPET OF SALAL, OREGON GRAPE, AND during wildfires. Downed logs provide shelter and food for a SWORDFERN FLOURISHED WHERE THE AFTERNOON SUN variety of animals and inverte­ PENETRATED THE BROKEN CANOPY—NATURE UNLEASHED. brates as well. We came/o Arlecho because this small i&lated grove of trees is a natural museum to confirmed this: “there's some [ancient forest] down history and the peoples of this area. It serves as a vital around Sultan, but that has been proposed as a timber culture memory bank and critical biological gene sale area, otherwise, Arlecho’s it". One important thing that Arlecho illustrates, is that reserve. This area has a unique concern to the Lummi the retention of old-growth is beginning to stand on its beyond the status of their downstream hatchery. The own merits rather than just being shored up by an endangered species crutch; the harvesting of the Lummi and Nooksack peoples share a traditional claim ancient forests surrounding Arlecho Creek is not only a to this area. Not only do they cherish sites of archaeo­ logical significance, but Arlecho Creek is one of the violation of the rights of indiginous peoples and last places natives can go to practice spiritual activities threatened wildlife, it is a violation of common sense. sacred to their culture. Arlecho and ancient forests are pristine places—undisturbed areas. Loss of such wilder­ ness demoralizes the psyche. It's really an ethical question. Did all of Iowa have to be converted to cropland, or could we have left some free roaming prairie? The prospect of this stand being cut was profoundly depressing. I looked toward the numerous snags which pierced the sky on the ridge opposite us and noticed that the sun was beginning to set; it was time to head for home. We never made it down to the creek where they practiced spirit quest­ ing, but then the thought of jumping into an icy creek in the middle of winter did not really appeal to me anyway. Maybe in the summer­ time. That was not my culture anyway; I would have been trespassing. Lewis and Clark were all I had to identify with here. I was just an explorer, devoid of spirituality—ignorant of Sacajewa and what she represented. The remaining forest groves in Arlecho Creek represent a tiny part of the great natural forest that once covered much of northern Washington. The Arlecho basin was once home to the grizzly bear and gray wolf, rare nesting birds like the Western Tanager and the Red­ breasted Sapsucker, and, in the more recent past, it was prime habitat to the northern spotted owl, and the threatened bull trout which once flourished in the clean waters of the creek. These species are as irreplaceable as the old-growth forest itself; this Mark crossing a washed out logging road on the way to place is like one interconnected biological Arlecho

Darren Nienaber

XWOMIKSTEN

Although there is no word in the Lummi language for environment, Tom Edwards Jr. likes to talk about the lands and wildlife of Whatcom County. “Last year we counted 47 eagles nesting on the reservation, this year we counted only 37 eagles.” He hopes the decrease is not a pattern. “I can really smell Bellingham when I drive into town,” he says. “Bellingham Bay is of concern to the Lummi. Pollution, like runoff from the roads, boats, and industrial pollution are hurting the bay. The crab taste better over here in Lummi Bay.” Tom (Xwomiksten) works in the Lummi Timber, Fish and Wildlife department as a fisheries techni­ cian. Xwomiksten is his Lummi name. Tom is a barrel-chested man, as are many of the Lummi men. Their large upper-bodies seem to make many of them natural canoers, a sport in which the Lummi are champions. Training is a rigorous sixday-a-week activity, and usually the seventh day is spent on activities related to canoeing (or “pulling” as they call it) as well. Being raised in a traditional Lummi family taught Tom a great deal about tradition, including instruc­ tion in the Lummi language which he learned from his grandfather and Lummi Indian College linguist Bill James. “I learned the language, because I saw my culture gradually deteriorating. I get my kindness from my grandfather, Isadore Tom Sr. So I try rubbing it off on others. I go up to them and shake their hands and talk to them. Never sit back when people need it.” 20 THE Planet

Tom wants to see more bonding between the young and the old on the reservation. “I always go up to the elders and talk to them. Say ‘Hi, how are you? We want you here with us. You are holders of our traditional ways. We need your knowledge, support, guidance, and wisdom.'” “That's why we are in a predicament. Indians weren't listening to the wisdom of the elders. They're trying to prepare us in the knowledge they share. It's important. It's the way of our life, our culture.'’ At 31, Tom isn’t married, so he spends a lot of time with his family. “My mother taught me how to cook. She used to say, ‘Son you never know, you might be a bachelor or meet a girl who don’t know how to cook much."’ Tom is also a recovered alcoholic and is proud of the recovery he has made. “Each weekend, I try to spend time with the elders. They tell me, ‘Hey, we're proud of you, stepping into a new life like you're born again."' But there is much of an old life that Tom remem­ bers as well, like when he was a child and other kids trom Ferndale would bring their new toys to school, while he had nothing. “We had no toys. We almost had no food. We made paper decorations for the tree. We still had fun though. We would sit down close and talk to each other, support each other. We're better off now, but we still use paper decora­ tions." Today, Tom is working to help conserve and protect the environment of Whatcom County. Among other things, he reviews forest practice

applications, which are public notices that a company Indian. intends to log a tract of land. He enjoys his job, Tom sees himself as a “proud Native American, because he is protecting the land, and he gets to go proud of our culture and beliefs. Indians care for outdoors. other tribal peoples. Care for the sick. Care for and If the Lummi are concerned that the logging is on respect elders.” too steep a slope, too close to a stream bed, or is of historical significance to ‘‘A MAN WITHOUT A VISION WILL. PERISH, WE HAVE the their people, then they contact the TO HAVE ONE. WE RESPECT THE TREES, THE WA­ logging company and tell them their TER, THE AIR, THE EARTH. WITHOUT PROTECTING II concerns. The company usually investi­ THEM, THE HUMAN RACE WOULDN T EXIST. gates to see if the concern is legitimate, then makes a decision on what to do. I was impressed by the amount of statistics that '‘My dad always made us go up and shake elders’ the Lummi gather on Whatcom County. They hands. Even if I don’t know them, it’s important for compile information on stream channel shifts, me to go shake hands with Indian people.” velocity of streams, stability of soils, slide areas, "I respect and care for all people. Not only eagle nesting grounds, and tree species composition. Indians, whites also, even if they don’t want to talk In addition, the Lummi are also surveying the herring to me.” runs along Lummi and Portage Islands as well. But, he adds, "I spend a lot time to myself, just These herring runs were, at one time, a traditional thinking about things.” source of food for the Lummi, as were the ducks that This surprised me, because Tom is a friendly, dove down to eat the herring and got caught in the relaxed and informal talker. When I first met him, he fishermen's nets. eagerly shook my hand, lightly, as is the Lummi way. Other monitoring projects Tom is involved with I asked him if he wanted to go get something to eat, are the surveying of the 100+ crab traps in Lummi but he said he was going to speak to an elementary and Bellingham Bay, and the identification of salmon school class about water quality and that he’d have to spawning grounds in various creeks around Whatcom take me up on it some other time. "I'd like to see the younger generation stand county. When he gets a break from his busy schedule, strong for their beliefs, stand up for the fish, water, Tom likes to play Indian bone games (sla-hal). He seafood, wildlife. We are teaching them now. I’m started playing at the age of four, and has since still learning. It'll take me another 20-30 years. played in Oregon, Idaho, and Montana, and on Then I’ll pass it down to my sons or nephews or their Vancouver Island, representing his deceased grandfa­ kids. I'd like to see them get involved in their ther Isadore Tom Sr. The game incorporates singing culture, language, customs, beliefs, learn how to and drumming, and the outcome depends on luck and hunt, shuck oysters, and know where to dig for skill. clams, prepare deer. I had to skin a deer. Elk too. It's His family is known and respected for their songs. important to know how.” '“Here comes the Tom family' they say at competi­ Tom hopes the younger generation will have a tions.'’ People have offered to buy songs from the cleaner, better life. He wants to teach his nephews Isadore Tom family, but they refuse. They do not and other children about water quality and resources. want to sell off their traditions. His family once won "Water is very important. All living things need $1,500 in a bone game and have won many champi­ water. Water has a special part in Lummi beliefs. onships. Food comes from water, is made of water. We drink Tom told me some of the day-to-day things he water.” likes to do. He likes to play basketball, draw pic­ "I'm trying to teach kids not to dump chemicals tures, eat seafood and play the Indian hand drums. down the drain. Trying to teach them about (the But he shrugged it off, as if these details weren't as toxicity of) pesticides and herbicides.” important as other things. "A man without a vision will perish, we have to At the end of our interview, Tom showed me have one. We respect the trees, the water, the air, the around his office that he shares with two other earth. Without protecting them, the human race Timber, Fish and Wildlife workers. The office is wouldn’t exist.” filled with files, papers, maps, and pictures. Tom’s ink-on-paper drawings hang on one wall. The style is partly is individualized and partly Northwest

The Planet 21

Rachel C. Platt

LACANDONE Deep in the Lacanclone rainforest of southern Mexico, Lummi tribe member, Ken Cooper begins to play a song on a large drum. The dim glow of an oil lamp casts Cooper’s shadow around the walls of the small hut and his song continues until a new song, unknown to Cooper, overtakes him. He begins to sing this song to the Lacandones who sit in a circle around him, then passes his drum to eKurt Russo, who sits beside him, and begins to shake and cry in gratitude for this song. Kin Bor Panagua, a Maya Lacandone tribal leader, has listened to the song and feels its spirit. Through this song he now knows that Cooper and the Lummi are no tourists, no oil drillers or cattle ranchers; they are Native Americans from a tribe that is still connected to the land. Kin Bor knows they have come to help. At this first meeting with Kin Bor and the villagers. Cooper warned them about the empty promises people outside the village will make to take their land, one of the last lowland rainforests in the Americas. He made this clear through stories of Lummi history. ‘The government brought us electricity and paved the road with broken promises. They told us they would respect and protect the land. . .but they are cutting down the last of the ancient forests. When they do that, they cut

lEXlO MUi OCEAN 1®

22 The Planet

out our culture. They don’t listen. Or don’t care. Or don’t believe us. Or can’t afford to.” I went to the Lummi reservation to talk to Kurt Russo, an instructor at the Northwest Indian College, and coordinator for the Lacandone trips. 1 wanted to know what happened on his and Cooper’s first trip to the Lacandone villages in Chiapas, the poorest of Mexico’s states. He described the Lacandone welcom­ ing the Lummi into the village, despite the villagers’ normally apprehensive nature. The first step the Lummi took after this initial trip, involved the Northwest Indian College. Russo orga­ nized a 5-credit class for students and other Native Americans in which they stayed with the Lacandones, usually for two weeks, with but three basic goals: educating the Lacandones about their environmental rights, showing them how they can enforce those rights and teaching them how to live with the increasing intrusion of society. A year of planning must augment the students’ short stay, though, in order to reach these goals. I could tell that long hours of hard work go into the trip before their plane leaves the ground. I understood this just by glancing around the project’s headquarters before I even met Kurt Russo. Giant posters paper the walls with pleas for every environmental and cultural cause. One reads, “The buffalo were wiped out. But you can still save the caribou.” The office workers have piled two-foot-high stacks of paper on every office furnishing and every inch of floor. Papers stick out of the six huge file cabinets that sit along the back wall. The first thing Russo said to me was, “This office is the hub of a lot of international activity.” No kidding. He sat at his desk, the one with the most papers on it, and sipped tea from an etched-glass mug while he gave me some history of the

Lacanclones. The two Lacandone tribes remained isolated until missionaries “discovered’’ them only 50 years ago. Until recently, they have lived mostly by traditional ways; they wore cedar tunics and lived in mahogany huts taken from the rainforest’s trees which surround them. Since their "discovery" though, much of their forest has fallen to cattle ranchers, oil drillers, and loggers. Simultaneously, another invasion threatens the unique culture of the Lacandone rainforest's 600 villagers. The recent insurrection by Mexican guerrillas in Chiapas threatens the villagers most now. The guerrillas have situated themselves in the rainforest to hide from the government’s forces; they come out of the forest to fight, then retreat back into it after an uprising. If the army comes into the rainforest, the war could wipe out all that remains; one incendiary bomb could start a raging wildfire, especially in the dry season. This possibility coupled with the violence already in nearby San Cristobal holds back the 1994 student trip, the trip’s fifth year. Russo explained how cattle ranch­ ers pushed deeper into the rainforest first by clear-cutting, and then by burning everything left to make room for cattle. After only five years, the cattle deplete the soil of all its nutri­ ents, so they must repeat this process, but the land they leave soon becomes a desert, the uncovered ground baking too hard for seeds to take. The oil industry further endangers Chiapas, as oil prospectors clear forest for highways to test drilling sites. As Russo put it, “They’ve got the upris­ ^_____ ings on several sides, narcotics trafficking in the rainforest, a civil war in Guatemala, oil exploration all around the perimeter and cattle ranchers coming in illegally and not being stopped by the government. They're under enormous pressure.’’ Last year's student trip beat the insurrection by only half a year. I talked with John Vaara, a soft-spoken Tlingit Indian originally from Alaska who went along. He went out of his way to help me experience the trip, even lending me his journal; a small red notebook he described as “a part of him" by the end of the trip. Vaara's journal talks of his drive

toward the village on a highway, newly paved for Mexican President Carlos Salinas’ tour of Chiapas. Vaara drove past the smooth road and turned onto a bumpy dirt road for the last few miles into the Lacandone village. Ken Cooper most likely first journeyed to the village on the same route in 1990, except he hiked through the dense rainforest for days. His second trip in 1992 was on the president’s highway. “The forest had been cut clean to their village. Their houses were sitting in the middle of nothing.” Though one of the students’ main purposes of the trip was to save the Lacandone culture and prevent the intrusion of civilization— such as a highway into their village—not all villagers resist civilization’s influences. Vaara told me about children running around in hightop sneakers. “Who are we to deny that from them because we have romantic notions about native people living in traditional ways?” Vaara asked. Of course, sneakers aren’t threats, but they do represent increased connections with the industrialized world. Russo said the students and other Native Americans have successfully set up a chain of connections from the Lacandone villages to the Mexican government. The villagers now know to who V -> . they can report the environ^ ^ 7': mental crimes going on around ^ * ■* Vfi . . them to, but their reporting of crimes isn’t enough. Russo warns that as soon as the Lacandone rainforest leaves the international focus the Lummi have brought to it, it will be devoured. “Six hun­ dred people can disappear in a ' >day in Mexico.” The only drawing I saw in Vaara’s journal showed a thin sliver of an upside-down crescent moon hanging under a bright Venus. Below, fireflies dot the landscape and illumi­ nate the small, mahogany huts. A scene like this will soon disappear without interna­ tional attention and care. And without such care, the Lacandone people may soon disappear as well. I I 'k.

A;!

the

Planet 23

Gillian Vik

A TALE OF TWO WELLS

24 THE Planet

meets even secondary drinking water standards. Asa result, wells have had to be abandoned or have their use curtailed to protect the aquifer. The state, however, has allowed the non-Lummi water associations in this area to continue to pump water anyway, and permits have even been filed to increase usage. Even though Lummi water rights are very old and protected by federal law under the Point Elloit Treaty of 1855, they are still having difficulty in securing these rights. All over Whatcom county water rights are an is­ sue, since as the population of Whatcom County in­ creases, there is growing competition between homeowners, golf courses, businesses, farmers, and mu­ nicipalities for freshwater resources. Because the federal government has consistently failed in preserving Lummi resources, the tribe has re­ cently set into motion a federal negotiations process which will involve four groups: the Lummi, the Nooksack, the federal government, and the state. Since the Lummi tribe has begun the process of self gover­ nance, they will be dealing with the federal government on a nation to nation basis, instead of merely as an in­ terest group. This new round of negotiations is not likely to re­ solve much of the controversy surrounding water rights on the Lummi reservation, but hopefully it will at least put to rest some of the legal issues involved with this problem. Until then, the Lummi will use one well, and the non-Lummi another, while both sides argue for their share of this all-important resource

Brian Reeves

The Lummi Indian Reservation is the site of a ma­ jor controversy between Lummi and non-Lummi resi­ dents over water rights. Barbed wire surrounds the new well drilled on the reservation by the Lummi; nearby is a well owned by the Sandy Point Improvement Com­ pany, a non-Lummi homeowners association on the reservation. The water from the well drilled by the Lummi is used in their hatcheries, and the other, nonLummi well, is used for Sandy Point residents. Currently, the Lummi draw their domestic water from ground water wells on the reservation. This supply is supplemented in various annual amounts by water purchased from the city of Bellingham. In addition to their domestic supply, they also use freshwater in their salmon, oyster, and clam hatcheries. The water for the hatchery comes in part from the lower Nooksack River, and in part from a well drilled in 1991 to supply water to the Sandy Point salmon hatchery, constructed that same year. This hatchery now supports 6-8 million salmon that the tribe release every year. These salmon are caught by everyone, not just the Lummi. The new well which was drilled in 1993 was built to increase this salmon production. The Sandy Point Improvement Company has low­ ered the water table by 15-20 feet in the last 20 years, until today it is nearly at sea level. This lowering could lead to salt water intrusion, which would pollute the freshwater aquifer until it becomes undrinkable. De­ spite this, the state has recently permitted an increase in withdrawals from Sandy Point. The tribe notified the State Department of Ecology that the Lummi have senior water rights in that area, but they were ignored. Sandy Point is populated largely by nonLummi, with 49% of the total population on the reservation being non-Indian. Citizens from this area have expressed concern about tribal jurisdiction over freshwater resources. Some are concerned that the Lummi are seeking control of the non-Lummi residents on the reservation by controlling the water. The Lummi say they are just trying to pre­ serve a resource that they never gave away in the first place. This is not the only area on the reserva­ tion experiencing problems with ground wa­ ter. The water in the Gooseberry Point area has already had severe problems with salt water intrusion; the well water here no longer The S<indy

Point Improvement Company pumphouse and storage tank

Gillian Vik

DIVING IN HEAD FIRST

The Lummi water resource office is located in a being polluted? plain brown building on Kwina Road. It feels like The more we talk, the more comfortable I feel. (I somewhere you would go to vote—the halls echo like can't use her name because she is a technical an empty, unfamiliar school—and it’s patriotic, with staffperson, and not an official spokesperson for the flags and the Lummi symbol stamped on everything; Lummi Nation. I become excited about the Lummi 1 feel as if I’m entering another country. too. Leroy Deardorff, the water resource administra­ When I called to set up this interview, the person tor went to our own Huxley College. His knowledge I spoke to wanted to know if I’d ever been on an can help in planning wise resource use. When salt Indian reservation before. I thought maybe I had, but intrusion occurs on Gooseberry Point, they have the realized I’d only driven by the brown signs on 1-5 without ever actually A non-Indian woman with friendly stopping. Oh no, I thought, as dry as the subject of water resources is, I still have EYES SMILES AT ME AND ASKS ME IF I AM to deal with race relations. Gillian. Well, yes, I am. figured So now Tm trying to find my YOU WERE. A LOST LOOKING NON-lNDIAN interviewee and I’m stumbling down the halls wondering what I’m trying to achieve, looking at people’s door decorations: extra clout when saying, ‘Stop pumping the wells or articles from the Bellingham Herald, maps of our water quality will be ruined.' Problem, of course, Whatcom County, and ‘Far Side’ comic strips. I’m is the white people. And no, I probably don’t mean really nervous. I’m really really nervous. all of them, though I feel like I do. The state has A non-Indian woman with friendly eyes smiles at permitted non-Lummi water associations to continue me and asks me if I am Gillian. Well, yes, I am. “I pumping water out of the Gooseberry Point Aquifer, figured you were. A lost looking non-Indian.'’ My even though the water doesn’t meet secondary first thought is ‘But I’m part Powhatan,' except of drinking water standards anymore and continuing to course, mentioning that I'm a direct descendant of pump is endangering the Aquifer. Translation: by Pocahontas seems inappropriate, at best. Besides, I allowing continued pumping the water could be want to go through this as a white person. Mention­ contaminated so badly that it will be of use to no ing my less than one one-thousandth-part-Indian one. Translation: once again white people are blood I would be trying to claim I’m something I’m exploiting a resource the Indians have moral and legal priority to. not. I wait for the woman to come back in. There is a During my interview, I learn that the Lummi’s big computer with manuals and programs stacked dispute over water rights is county-wide. The popula­ next to it. Shelves are lined with Huxley textbooks, tion of Whatcom county is growing. There is increas­ some still proudly bearing a ‘Used' sticker. I can ing competition between homeowners, golf courses, instantly relate. She comes back and I like her—a businesses, farmers and municipalities for freshwater woman scientist. She reads my questions before I ask resources. Of particular concern is the use of the them and watches me write down the answers. She Nooksack River, a main source of fresh water in this tells me all of the answers to questions I tried for county. weeks to squeeze out of the Bellingham Herald. I ask On the Lummi reservation there is also a dispute her: Where do the Lummi get their water from? over groundwater wells. Currently, the Lummi have What are the problems with each of these sources of set a federal negotiations process into motion to water? How are they being allocated? How are they assess exactly how much water they are entitled to.

the

Planet 2S

26 THE Planet

Mark Lehner

Since the Lummi have begun a program of self pollutants are not really known. governance, they will be dealing with the govern­ Once, the river was deep enough that people used ment on a nation to nation basis instead of as an to jump off the bridge over the Nooksack head first. interest group. Because there are problems with both Now however, the Nooksack flows like a slow, of their main sources of water, the Nooksack river cloudy mud puddle moving sluggishly toward and groundwater wells, the Lummi have legitimate Bellingham Bay. The depth of the water is closer to reason to make sure their water rights are insured. two than to twenty. Needless to say, you can't jump The groundwater wells on the reservation are off head first anymore. threatened by salt water contamination. This happens My interviewee is dragged away by her boss and when wells are drawn from faster than they can re­ we say good-bye quickly. I walk out the doors into supply themselves with new water, causing the water unseasonal sun and see two Lummi women taking a table to drop and salt water to seep in. Recently, the smoke break. It's odd to have come to an Indian Lummi drilled a controversial new well on Sandy Reservation without talking to any Indians. I smile at Point—a part of their reservation that has a nonthe women holding the cigarettes. One of them looks Lummi majority— in order to supply their fish straight into my eyes, and we smile at each other. As hatchery located there. Some non-Lummi residents I break away from her gaze, I realize that there is saw this as unfair—an effort to control non-Lummi still so much I don’t know, may never know about residents by controlling the water. Then the what it means to be Lummi. staffperson gave me the ‘Tm about to tell you the I begin driving home in my art car with a dolphin sleazy part' look. “The Sandy Point Improvement painted on its side. A school bus drives in front of Company, a non-Lummi homeowners association, me. A Lummi boy who is just barely old enough to lowered the water table by 15-20 feet in the last 20 make fun of my car looks out the window. He years.*' The state recently permitted an increase in doesn’t make fun of my car though. He smiles and withdrawals from Sandy Point to allow them to build waves instead. We make faces at each other all the more homes in spite of the fact that the tribe had way down Kwina Road. notified the Department of Ecology they planned to exercise their senior water rights for salmon hatcher­ ies." I am beginning to think the definition of selfgovernance needs to be clarified. I am also beginning to wonder what one does do with nonIndians on an Indian Reservation. After all, they do make up 49% of the population on the reserva­ tion. For the Lummi however, it is a question of the future as well; if the Lummi ever want to move near Sandy Point, they simply will not have the water to support building homes. Unlike groundwater, the Nooksack River is not used for drinking water, yet it is used for salmon, clam, and oyster hatcheries run by the Lummi. It is of great importance to the Lummi as a habitat for salmon, which are extremely important as a food source, as well as to their economy. But here again there are problems with water usage. A restricted flow of water resulting from upstream withdrawals causes several disruptions. It disrupts migrating fish populations, concentrates pollut­ ants, and causes navigational problems for fisher­ men. The levees built on the banks of the river to provide protection from flooding have also disrupted salmon habitat. Nonpoint pollution including soil erosion, runoff from dairies and agriculture, and upstream industry, as well as from cities like Deming and Lynden also disturbs the salmon. The long term effects of exposure to Headwaters of the Nooksack

Maurice Austin Staff Distorter

CITY COUNCIL PROPOSES WALL The Bellingham City Council has proposed a solution to the current battle over water rights in Whatcom County, but members of the Lummi Nation and the Nooksack Tribe have expressed concern over what they consider a “blatant example of environ­ mental racism." The proposal, based on the landmark 1974 Boldt decision, divides water resources between natives and non-natives equally. Bellingham City Council member Arne Klaw said the Lummi and other Treaty of Point Elliot tribes will be guaranteed one-half of the water, “whether it be from underground aquifers or the Nooksack river.” The proposal describes three separate plans for the allotment of water resources: —Dam the Nooksack: The Lummi would then pick as their resource either the water above or below the dam. —Put the Nooksack in a tank: The tank would empty into two smaller tanks; one for the Lummi, one for the non-Lummi. —Split the Nooksack: By far the most popular plan. A wall would be constructed from the exact center of the Nooksack’s headwaters to its mouth in Belling­ ham Bay. Lummi would use one side of the river, and non-Lummi the other. The Lummi have been struggling to regain their right to water resources ever since the City of Bellingham and the Whatcom County Key Industrial Development Association (WHACKYIDEAS) began using water without Lummi permission decades ago. Control of water and sewer utilities is considered vital to the Lummi goal of maintaining sovereignty. “Proposals such as this are not going to be condu­ cive to further talks,” said one Lummi spokesperson. Arne Klaw disagrees. “Look," she said, “when the Lummi gave us half of their salmon catch in 1974, we immediately began researching other resources the fifty-fifty arrangement could apply to. Water's one." A federal court recently ruled that the Makah and other Point No Point Treaty tribes are entitled to 50 percent of the allowable halibut harvest. An indepen­ dent consulting firm is examining possible locations for a sea wall in those fishing areas, but has been

“unable to find a point at which to begin or end the wall." Bellingham Mayor Porkal Barrell appeared pleased with the proposal yesterday morning at the Bellingham Golf and Country Club, but a statement released today announces his disappointment that the council didn’t seek a “greater compromise.” An aide said that the owner of the golf course had told the mayor that the club would be closed unless they could secure more water than the proposal affords. The mayor plays golf five days a week at the club. One Lummi Nation member, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said the proposal “stinks. How can they expect to build a wall? Are they crazy? What if a male salmon went up one side, and a female up the other—how would they spawn? How can you love your spouse when there’s a wall there?” Mr. and Mrs. Silver Salmon, of Milepoint 0.4 Skookum Creek, appeared distraught at the proposal. “We hope the city council abandons this absurdity,” they said. “The Lummi have always taken good care of us. A wall would only divide our children against themselves.” Salmon, however, aren’t on the minds of the Bellingham City Council. “What we’re looking at is increasing the opportunity for oil refinery and golf course settlement in our area. A few more courses and we’ll be just like San Diego,” said one council member. “Golf balls don’t feed people. Golf balls don’t shelter people. But they sure are fun to bang around between meetings and hearings,” said Mayor Porkal Barrell. Doug Fir, who lives on the north bank of the Nooksack river near Silver Lake Road, said the wall would permanently sepa­ rate him from his sister Sally Cedar, who lives directly across from him on the south bank. “Maybe the mayor should move to San Diego,” he said. The Nooksack Tribe has vowed to cooperate with the Lummi Nation in what could become the longest series of court disputes focusing on water rights to date. A spokesperson for WHACKYIDEAS said the wall could be made “in such a manner as to be aesthetically pleasing to the eye, such as painting pictures of trees, salmon, or automobile advertise­ ments on it.” “Ah,” said a Lummi Nation spokesperson, “a kinder, gentler Berlin Wall.” the

Planet 27

Helen Buller

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE LUMMI

The only things I really know are what my heart tells me. Most other things I think I know I've learned only from books or picked up from chance observation. I wanted to know how your hearts feel—what they tell you about how to live your lives, how they counsel you to make certain choices. But I can’t get close enough to hear your voice. I don’t think it’s intentional, this wall of silence. I feel that you are willing, though I sense your hesitation. From what I have heard of local history, your hesitation is justified. I know how busy you are. I see and respect what you have done for yourselves and other indigenous groups, not only here, but in Central America too. You’re busy fighting the good fight. I only wish you could help me understand and let me into your vision of the world. My EuropeanAmerican education has provided me a stereotype of your spirituality. It shows you walking with the world as one, that you are the spirit sometimes, and not yourselves. I’ve come close to such a feeling only twice in my live. Once, an old man—I thought he must be ancient— came to my elementary school in Concrete. He told the story of the walking cedars. He said each tree made its song and called to one of his people. If one needed a canoe and the time was right, the tree and the man would sing together as the tree made its way toward the water. The speaker told us the man's song was honoring the tree’s sacrifice. I was entranced by this tale and I wanted to believe. To this day I’ll grant that such power is real and strong for those who value it. Western learning tends to tell us such power cannot be, because it can’t be seen. I think Western learning can poison the eye which sees such power, if one isn’t careful. The only other time I remember being close to such power, I was eight. A few of us children were visiting one of the first Indian cemeteries in Northwest Wash­ ington. My heart felt as if I somehow knew the people long buried there. I felt that they were not angry; that there was happiness and peace in that place. I could almost hear them—they seemed more real than those 28 TThe Planet

breathing next to me. But that is a part of life you keep to yourselves and this silence leads those with incorrect impressions to stereotype you, yet your silence gives you power as well, it requires strength. I think I see why you won't let me get close. I was bom in the Skagit Valley, where my people have lived for a century—no time at all compared with the heritage of Isabelle Warbus, an elder, whose grandfather was a Skagit. Isabelle told me how white men burned the Skagits' homes and took their land when her ancestors couldn’t make it back from picking hops down south, near Puyallup. Lawyers and the courts decided to give the Skagit people a mountainside of timber in exchange for the fertile ground on which they'd grown carrots, beans and potatoes, Isabelle said. It is odd to me that the Skagits were “given'’ something they’d had access to all along. Isabelle told me too, of smallpox-laden blankets that were a gift from the white men, of pot-shots taken at Indian fishermen and of white fishermen who had laid their nets, not to catch fish, but to give the Indian fishermen a hard time. She said she'd once been on her husband’s family island and found beautiful red and blue beads. When she took them home, her husband asked where she’d found them. When she told him, he told her to put them back, that the beads belonged to the dead laid on the ground in haste; The Indians had died so quickly from the pox there wasn't time to bury the dead. “People wonder why we resent the white people so much—because they've done so much to us in the past,” Isabelle said. It stands to reason you would look at me with some suspicion, not because I’m a stranger, but because my skin is white. And so many white people, those with ignorant or greedy hearts, betrayed Indians with words and treaties and “gifts.” How valid, reasonable and justified is your hesitation. But it doesn't help me to understand you. Nor does it help others who are finally ready to listen and learn from you. Perhaps your voices could be heard this time —this is why I wanted so much to speak with you—I wanted you to know this.

Rock of My Foundation, silkscreen by Yvonne Thomas

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Michael Rayton

XTAFEPL Oh cedar tree, Clap your hands and sing to me; Way-ahh way-ahh, Way-ahh way-ahh I have been dreaming of ancient cedar trees. religion. The Lummi “spirit dancers," or Seyowru Cedar, hemlock, spruce, fir and yew, they once grew found trees in pure, private, isolated and secluded here. I have tried to picture them as they were. From spots in the forest. As Lummi elder Joe Washington, Bellingham Bay east to Shuksan and Koma Kulshan Sr. explained, “Trees are granted life, the secret of (Place of the Storm Wind; Mount Baker), from the life, so when you pluck a branch and rub yourself, Fraser River south to Clear-sky (Takhoma or Mount the gift absorbs into your system." Rainier) and beyond was virtually unbroken forest. Author Holger Kalweit says, “The power of Streams and rivers ran cold and clear. Bellingham absolute concentration and total dedication is the Bay was mercury-free and to the Xwlemi (Lummi) gateway to higher consciousness." A Seyown living in the North Straits, this land was not wilderness, it was We forget that we are only a part home. OF A MUCH BIGGER AND MORE DIVINE “In the old days," relates PLAN FOR CREATION Lummi Ken Cooper, “it was told that our old people wore mocca­ sins so they could walk softly on Mother Earth and preparing for contact with a cedar spirit, or se'li, feel everything they were stepping on as they removes all traces of human existence, and rubs his walked along." body with cedar branches during ritual bathing to The slow-growing yew yielded excellent wood cleanse both body and spirit. While naked, fasting, for bows. Vine maple was used for fish traps, and meditating, a Seyown seeks the cedar’s song, or hemlock poles for dip nets. Fir was used as fire­ sti'lem, with his “third ear." wood and for the shafts of spears and harpoons. Each cedar tree is an individual possessing a Sweat lodge frames were made of big-leaf maple. unique spirit. Each Seyown finds a different tree, But most important of all was the sacred, ancient therefore each Seyown song is special. At the cedar tree, x'pai'epl. festive winter ceremonies, held “after the frogs stop, Cedar trees provided bark for clothing, baskets but before the snakes come out," the Seyown shares and rope. The wood, easily split, provided long the new song and accompanying dance with other planks used to build traditional cedar longhouses. tribal members. Totem poles told stories of villages and clans, The shared experiences of ceremony connect honored guardian spirits, and animated popular people and express a sense of our place in the legends. Cedar buds were chewed to remedy sore physical world. Life, birth, growth and death are lungs and to avoid nausea when burying a corpse. woven into the fabric of community and family Cedar boughs, singed by fire, were used to sweep living. Thus, the changing of the seasons, the the spirits of the recently deceased out of the home changes in families and changes within people are and into the spirit world. occasions for ritual ceremonies. But the Lummi had other uses for the cedar tree Lummi Ken Cooper, known and respected as a as well. keeper of Lummi cultural heritage, says “We learn The Lummi say x'pai'epl possesses a powerful from the land what we need to know to honor and spirit. The quest for the song of this sacred spirit respect her and live in harmony with others and was, and is, the foundation for their traditional ourselves."

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But in the time since George Vancouver, many trees have fallen, many fields have been plowed and many streams destroyed. The Lummi no longer have access to ancient cedar trees for their winter ceremonial and cultural long-houses, nor do their traditional cedar carvers have access for canoes, sacred dress, totem poles, or cultural arts. Traditional plants and medicinal herbs, like the Wild Rose. Stinging Nettle, Tril­ lium, Devil's Club, Elderberry, Maidenhair Fern and Kinnickinnick gathered and used by the Lummi, have disappeared with the forests. Salmon Woman’s children are not respected. Sugar and carbohydrates are replacing traditional high protein diets of salmon, elk, deer and shellfish. But more than plants and animals have been lost. The United States' Government confined the Lummi to their traditional wintering grounds, took away their native tongue, de­ stroyed family institutions and banned their traditional religion in the treaty of 1855. But there are more recent examples of injustices. In 1979, and again in 1983, federal, state and local law en­ forcement agencies raided Lummi Seyown winter ceremonials and confiscated eagle feathers and sacred regalia, some several generations old. A number of Lummi were even sent to jail. Mutual Life Insurance Com­ pany of New York plans to clearcut what remains of the Arlecho Creek watershed. A new dock is being planned for Cherry Point. Where can the Lummi still find the land and the clues connecting them with their culture and past? Lummi Jewell James explains that, “Our oral traditions, teach­ ings and spirituality taught respect for all things. From one generation to the next we were taught the glorification of respecting nature and creation. All things were once spiritual and transformed to provide the human children the gifts of the creating spirit. The

Earth was our mother, the sky was our father, and our prayers brought the two together to form one unified spirit. “Our ceremonies and traditions were like the umbilical cord that attaches the mother and child, and bonded the father to children. Without this connection we would forget respect and die. With­ out Mother Earth we would not be nurtured. With­ out Father Sky we would have no air to breathe or life-giving rains to cleanse our souls. Respect connected the youngest to the oldest, the strongest to the weakest, the wisest to the most humble. We were part of a circle.'’ In his book Spire of Form: Glimpses of Evolu­ tion, Victor Scheffer agrees with Jewell James. He says, “Whole communities have evolved as if they

Lummi Seyown dancers, Matt Paul and August Martin, Whatcom Museum of History and Art (Image # 2645)

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were one great organism. Thus all evolution is coevolution and the biosphere is now a confedera­ tion of dependencies.'’ Ken Cooper says, “Nobody can recreate what the Creator has done. If they try, they break the spirit of nature. And if they break the spirit, they break the thing that connects everything.” We are active participants in this world. Our

down. But when the environment is safe, and the plants are feeling safe, they come back up. Return­ ing to the desolate land, the young people did as the elders directed. They did a spiritual purification ceremony and then planted the dominant plant of the land. Within a few years the plants started coming. After hearing this story, Arlene asked herself about the Lummi. “We’re fishermen,” she said, “and I thought Bellingham Our ceremonies and traditions were like Bay was that desolation.” “Bellingham Bay is not that THE UMBILICAL CORD THAT ATTACHES THE MOTHER AND CHILD, AND BONDED THE FATHER desolation; we are. We have covered TO CHILDREN. WITHOUT THIS CONNECTION WE up the pain and the vision of our becoming extinct with gross material­ WOULD FORGET RESPECT AND DIE ism, forgetting the spirit, alcohol and drugs, becoming workaholics, and extended family includes all people, all life and living on adrenaline. We’re losing our babies and even inanimate objects like rocks; everything is we’re losing our young families; our elders are connected. When everyone supports each other, we prematurely leaving us. truly support ourselves and find our own answers to “A spiritual purification needs to happen. Our the questions of existence. The voids in our lives dominant plant is our children and when we as the can be filled with love, affirmation and the living adults, we as the parents, we as the grandparents spirit. can see this plant growing and developing, it will be Holding hands, hugging, dancing, creating art, safe for us to grow upward. singing and playing music, healing each other, “You all have dreams, you all have visions and finding meaning in everyday activities, finding you all have ideas as to how we can connect and challenges, looking for goals, embracing new ideas communicate and start the spiritual healing. We and shaking hands, these acknowledge something need all those ideas, we need to find how we can go greater than ourselves. In recognizing, respecting in that direction. There is so much that we have to and celebrating all varieties of spirituality and life, do to find balance, to find unity and that spiritual it becomes apparent that everyone and everything level that we all need to come to. And I feel that has a capacity for spiritual connection. each and every one of us has a part of that key. Our Jewell James says, “We forget that we are only a role is to find that point of unified action.” part of a much bigger and more divine plan for “We...can feel sorry for ourselves,” says Jewell creation.” Ritual ceremonies animate similarities, James, “we can sit back and join movements that differences and interdependencies between humans demand justice. But, it will not matter what we and the world. demanded if the world dies.” I recently attended a planning meeting for the Joe Washington, Sr. says “When the environ­ upcoming Spiritual Unity of the Tribes: Gathering ment is in as natural a state as possible, it is most of Eagles VIII. Native people from many tribes useful to the Indians.” gathered with European descendants to share ideas Old-growth forests are striking examples of this. about how to host 5,000 visitors from around the Many different plants and animals depend upon world. It became a forum addressing the healing of each other for continued physical existence. People physical, racial and spiritual wounds. could learn from this example of harmony. Indeed, a Lummi elder Arlene Hillaire-Trouse recalled a trip into the remaining ancient forests is like a trip story told to her by prominent writer, activist and to Mecca for Muslims or a pilgrimage to the Holy Sioux elder Vine Deloria: Land for Christians. Young people recovered ancestral land leased to Clear-cutting old-growth forests is like smashing white farmers; it was barren. The young people the stained glass windows in European cathedrals went to their elders asking for help. The elders said for the raw materials needed to make ash trays—are that when plants become endangered, they grow we prepared to trade short-lived paper conveniences for the song of these ancient trees? 32 THE PLANET

Michael Wewer

Tommy Edwards Jr. pointing at the Trillium owned old-growth forest at Canyon Creek. Back cover: Lummi basket weaver, Leslie Corbett photographer, the Mount Baker book.