Preparing for a New River
Klallam tribal members make plans for holy ancestral sites to resurface after the unparalleled removal of nearby dams
- By Abigail Tucker
- Photographs by Brian Smale
- Smithsonian magazine, December 2011, Subscribe
“We want them to think, ‘maybe science is something I could do,’” coastal geoscientist Rob Young said of tribal youths, who took part in a camp focusing on the area’s spiritual heritage. Brian Smale
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Blowing Up the Dam
Section by section, demolition crews are slowly exploding the Elwha River dam
The Restoration of the Elwha River
As the dams begin to come down, the National Park Service looks back at the region's history and prepares for the welcome changes to the ecosystem
The turquoise, snow-fed Elwha River crashes through the cedar forests of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula. In the early 1900s, the river was dammed to generate electricity for a nearby logging town, but the dams devastated the Klallam Indians who had lived along the Elwha for thousands of years. The structures blocked the river’s salmon runs and flooded a sacred place on the riverbanks considered the tribe’s creation site.
Now the two antique dams are being dismantled—the largest and most ambitious undertaking of its kind in U.S. history. Demolition began this past September and will take three years to complete. It will free up some 70 miles of salmon habitat and allow the fish to reach their upstream spawning grounds again. Scientists expect a boom in bald eagles, bear and other creatures that gorge on salmon.
The Klallam people, who have lobbied for the dams’ removal for decades, are preparing their children for the river’s renaissance. The Elwha Science Education Project, hosted by NatureBridge, an environmental education organization, has held camps and field trips for youths from the Lower Elwha Klallam and other tribes to acquaint them with the changing ecosystem—and maybe spark an interest in watershed science.
“We want them to say, ‘I could be fixing this river,’” says Rob Young, the coastal geoscientist who designed the program. “‘I could be helping it heal. I could be uncovering sacred sites. That can be me. And it should be me.’”
When I visited a camp, held in Olympic National Park, some of the middle schoolers already knew the Elwha’s saga well; others couldn’t spell the river’s name. But for a week, all of them were immersed in ecology and ancestral culture. They went on a hike to a nearby hot spring. They listened to tribal stories. They played Plenty o’ Fish, a rather cerebral game in which they weighed a fisheries biologist’s advice about salmon harvests against a greedy grocery store agent’s bribes. They studied how their ancestors pounded fern roots into flour, made snowberries into medicine and smoked salmon over alder wood fires.
The kids helped repot seedlings in a park nursery where hundreds of thousands of plants are being grown to replant the river valley after the reservoirs are drained. The nursery manager, Dave Allen, explained how important it is that invasive plants don’t elbow out the native species when the soil is exposed and vulnerable. “You guys will have lived your lives and this will still be evolving and changing into forest,” Allen told the kids. “When you are old people—older than I am, even—you’ll still be seeing differences.”
The highlight of the week was a canoe journey and campout across Lake Crescent. The kids occupied two huge fiberglass canoes. Each crew had dark designs on the other, with much splashing between the boats, and they wanted to race, but their competitive passions outstripped their paddling skills and the canoes turned in slow circles.
Dinner that night, cooked over a fire among the fragrant cedars, was native foods, supplemented by teriyaki chicken bused over from the dining hall. The steamed stinging nettles tasted something like spinach. The kids gagged over the raw oysters, but when the counselors cooked the shellfish on the campfire rocks, everybody asked for seconds.
Afterward, the children sang one of the tribe’s few surviving songs. Far from an enthusiastic paddling anthem, the haunting “Klallam Love Song” is about absence, longing and the possibility of return. Tribal members would sing it when their loved ones were away. The words are simple, repeated over and over. “Sweetheart, sweetheart,” they would cry. “You are so very far far away; my heart aches for you.”
Abigail Tucker wrote recently about beer archaeology and Virginia’s bluegrass music. Brian Smale is based in Seattle.
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Related topics: Native American History Environmental Preservation Rivers Dams
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Comments (3)
Nice story. What it omits, however, is the native american decision to support a genetically mixed population of salmon, against the advice of fisheries biologists. This was done to ensure immediate access to more fish. Not a good longterm strategy to ensure the highest quality environment. Another flawed decision for short term gain, with longterm sacrifice.
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/12/111219152508.htm
Posted by lou overman on January 20,2012 | 12:59 PM
"The Klallam people, who have lobbied for the dams’ removal for decades, are preparing their children for the river’s renaissance."
Congratulations to the Klallam people. This is a beautiful story.
Posted by Kathy on December 10,2011 | 06:50 PM
Greetings Smithsonian Magazine Editors:
Happy Holidays! I want to thank you for your December 2011 issue featuring an informative essay and photographs regarding Washington State- Oloympic Peninsula dam removals. These dams were installed about one century ago. (They were easier to install than tear down!) But the combined efforts from public media, enviroment advocates, citizen input, foresight and planning, tribal and community involvement, and official actions by leaders of all levels of government and legislators, too, have resulted in positive action and results. Unfortunately our state government is in ral financial trouble. State support and funding for all state fish hatcheries are under review by hard-pressed legislators who must drastically reduce state expenditures at all levels for a (supposedly) balanced budget. Hopefully despite this, spawning fish will return to Olympic Peninsula inland waters. A resident of Washington state and Smithsonian Magazine subscriber says Thanks for your essay! Judy Buettner
Posted by Judy Buettner on December 2,2011 | 04:32 PM