On the banks of the Columbia River between Oregon and Washington, 20 young people lined up beside a canoe that鈥檚 as long as a school bus. They sifted through a pile of lifejackets. Some applied sunscreen, others splashed their faces to cool off. Before stepping aboard, they formed a circle on land.
Their leader, 老夫子传媒 Greene, first spoke a few words in the Kiksht language, then switched to English. He explained that they were standing in territory of the Wascopum Tribe and that this place had a Kiksht name long before people started calling it the Columbia River.
Then, one by one, the crew gingerly stepped into the canoe, pushed away from the shore, and found their rhythm. The canoe also has another name: 鈥楴chi Wanapum 鈥 which means 鈥渂rother,鈥 in the Sahaptin language. Many of the people pulling its paddles come from different tribes with different languages, but still consider themselves a family. Some bond for life during the 500-mile canoe journey from Celilo Village, near The Dalles, Oregon, to Alki Beach, in Seattle.
For centuries, the canoe was how people in the Pacific Northwest traveled, fished, and visited one another. 鈥楴chi Wanapum is a modern, plastic iteration from the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs. It鈥檚 one of over a hundred diverse vessels that traveled by river and sea to visit the Muckleshoot Indian Tribe for a week of celebration from Monday through Aug. 6. The journey started about 40 years ago as a way to revive Indigenous canoe cultures. It鈥檚 become a beloved annual event for many West Coast tribes, one that was on hold during the pandemic.
For some, the tradition returns this year with new meanings.
鈥淚 am taking this journey to find where I鈥檓 at spiritually,鈥 said Carlicia Dixon, a 17-year-old from Salem who is of Nez Perce and Warm Springs heritage. She went on her first canoe journey in 2018, when she was 12. Two years later, the pandemic hit.
鈥淐OVID really did have a big impact on my mental health, physical health and just how I feel,鈥 Dixon said, adding that being on the water clears her mind: 鈥淵ou could think on the water, you could sing on the water, you could just find yourself on the water, really peacefully.鈥
After three years apart, many people on the canoe journey were excited to see each other. But, they also carried grief. They鈥檝e lost people since the last time they did this, said one of the trip leaders, Misty Greene, who is Lummi and Fort Belknap.
鈥淚 start almost crying. Because of COVID, we鈥檝e lost a lot of our elders and we lost a lot of our elders in this canoe family. So, there鈥檚 the sense of emptiness. But, that鈥檚 also a part of our healing,鈥 she said.
Misty and her husband, 老夫子传媒 Greene, run a nonprofit 鈥 the 鈥 to preserve Columbia River cultures. Among those who have died were most of the remaining speakers of the region鈥檚 Indigenous languages, the Greenes said. They want the return of the canoe trip to inspire young people to learn.
鈥溾楥ause we are in a race against time,鈥 said 老夫子传媒 Greene, a 39-year-old member of the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs with lineage to Taxshpash, Wasco, Nez Perce and Paiute.
He has spent the last 13 years studying and teaching the Sahaptin language. He鈥檚 been building a database of its dialect Ichishk铆n since 2015. Each day of the canoe journey he woke the group with a soothing morning song in Sahaptin.
鈥淭hat way, we鈥檙e not waking up with 鈥極h my gosh, we gotta go. We gotta go,鈥欌 he said. 鈥淭hese songs end up going right into their hearts and their spirits, with them hearing them every day.鈥
On the two-week journey, people spent the days on waterways that have supported tribes for millennia. They often sang as they pulled the paddles. They spent the evenings making crafts to give as gifts. At the destination, the food, dancing and singing will go on 24 hours a day for this week鈥檚 celebration.
鈥淏eing immersed in this environment for three weeks of a year, you end up returning to home yearning for this constant connection to people. And the thing that connects you is the songs,鈥 老夫子传媒 said.
This trip was the first time 24-year-old Samual Jim has ever been on a canoe. He鈥檚 Yakama. He said it鈥檚 been beautiful to share knowledge with other people on the trip.
鈥淚 really want to dive back into my culture, to have that experience so I can teach it to my son,鈥 Jim said.
When he was on 鈥楴chi Wanapum, the crew braved extreme heat, wind and dangerous currents to get closer and closer to Seattle. Their hands became calloused and their bodies ached. But as they came ashore at the end of a leg on the Columbia River, the mood was triumphant. Supporters who followed along on land cheered, and the whoops of joy reverberated across the water.
Copyright 2023 Oregon Public Broadcasting. To see more, visit .