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A WINTER GATHERING OF THE CHINOOK
By DAVID CAMPICHE
FOR COAST WEEKEND
The Creator shaped this series
of sloughs and waterways that
bleed from the Columbia, the
river called Yakaitl-Wimakl by
the Tsinuk or Chinook people.
A soft landing offered access for
the stately cedar canoes. Just feet
from the water’s edge, 14 long-
houses scattered evenly across
the waterfront. The village was
called Cathlapotle, and from here,
900 indigenous people went about
their business: gathering firewood,
tending fires, mending, bathing
daily, boiling roots for breakfast.
Boiling salmon in waterproof reed
baskets by adding red-hot stones.
Gathering eggs from the nests of
wildfowl, geese and swans, and
then, as the morning unfurled,
beginning the most important task
of all, educating the youth.
Tony Johnson, current chief of
the Tsinuk nation, calls the time
around the campfires that warmed
the long, stately lodges, “our
university.” In other words, “study
time.” A time to explore religion,
to record the stories of the elders.
To weave baskets and mats. And
carving time.
Here they would plan the days
and weeks that lay ahead: the
gathering of berries and roots and
the harvest of fat spring salmon,
the Tyee that constituted the bulk
of Native sustenance, and a trade
good with the disparate tribes
that lined the West Coast of the
Pacific and scattered inland as
far as the Rocky Mountains and
across the plains. The Tsinuk
traveled mostly by water, in
cedar canoes ranging in length
from 12 to 70 feet in length, and
shaped from single cedar logs
with adzes and hot stones, with
fire and muscle and with a pres-
tigious skill that was passed from
father to son over millenniums.
The elegant canoes are consid-
ered masterpieces by museums
around the world.
The Longhouse interier.
The gathering
A winter gathering of the Tsi-
nuk people took place late this
winter. From beginning to finish,
the meeting was inspiring. A
hundred or more rendezvoused
at the hand-built plank house,
built in a traditional manner on
a historical spot, overlooking
the Columbia and beside an inlet
which offers shelter from storms
and wily river currents.
Lewis and Clark passed here
in 1805, and commented on the
disposition of the handsome
village and its inhabitants. Plain-
ly, the Corps of Discovery was
broke. Remaining trade goods
were distributed between two
bandanas.
The Chinook were the major
traders of the West Coast. They
were practiced in the fine art
of bartering. A few fish hooks
didn’t begin to add up to the
purchase of an otter pelt, which
in the latter years of the 19th
century, could be sold in Canton
for a small fortune. The Corps
was out of luck and plainly
miffed by the situation. Descrip-
tions of these proud people were
frequently derisive. The Eu-
ro-Americans wanted land, tim-
ber and access to the millions of
Chinook salmon that traversed
the big river.
Mildred Robinson.
Native people were in the way.
Again, the Tsinuk are stand-
ing tall, and with their resurrec-
tion comes pride. And pride can
withstand the most destructive
intimidations.
On a chilly winter afternoon,
guests were quartered inside the
intimate lodge and exposed to
a celebration of dance, music,
songs, and stories. Two large pit
fires warmed the lodge. Through
openings in the planked roof,
smoke furled out into the damp
Northwest sky. Here was a world
lit only by firelight.
Devotion to culture
Johnson speaks the language
elegantly. He is a carver of dis-
tinction. He is also fierce in his
devotion to his culture, one of
many that were pushed into near
extinction by the new boys on
the block, the Boston Tillicums.
He is gracious to a fault, as are
his brothers and sisters. This too,
is custom. This is family. Guests
are received with warmth,
fed well, and smothered with
affection and appropriate gifts.
Elders are honored and children
respected. Along with the love,
discipline abounds.
Sam Robinson.
The lodge was built with
precise specifications from the
historical plank house or long-
house dating back to the 19th
century. Johnson, Adam McIssac
and friends carved the totems of
his people. Adze work dominates
the interior, even to the point of
scribing the 90-foot cedar log
that stretches from the front of
the house and its round beckon-
ing entrance to the back wall.
Simply put, my family and I
found the space to be exhilarat-
ing. The craftsmanship was fine
and evocative of another time
and place. A good place. These
were the traditional homes of the
Cathlamet, Clatsop, Lower Chi-
nook, Wahkiakum and Willapa.
Homes to the First Peoples of
the Northwest Coast.
It is not my privilege to
expose the intricacies of every
song and prayer, but let it be
said, that ancient canoeing songs
and welcome greetings in Native
tongues, fueled an intimate
longing and respect for a culture
that revered the Great Spirit,
and dignified the land through
careful ecology for thousands
of years. “I feel the Creator’s
love,” said Tony Johnson, “when
the sun shines on this lodge, and
the birds sing.” When nature
communes its blessings. Bless-
ings, indeed!
The Tsinuk were a proud peo-
ple, and are a proud people. In a
country, thick with immigrants
from the Irish to the Vietnamese,
from the first Dutchman to the
millions of Hispanics, the Tsinuk
people were the first. Their ex-
plorations expand 12,000 years.
Now, they are struggling for
federal recognition.
Witness the respect and
dignity that these First People
negotiate with their brothers and
sisters. Perhaps you might re-
member a Siouxan chant, “Meta
cuye oyasin. We are all one peo-
ple.” The Tsinuk have practiced
the wisdom of their cousins from
the remote time when the great
thunderbird released the Tsinuk
into the world of ocean and riv-
er, the magnificent homeland of
the Columbia-Pacific.
The plank house rests on the
refuge at Richfield, Washington,
and is open daily. An hour from
Astoria, it is worthy of your visit.
(http://bit.ly/2nEipGX) or, office@
ChinookNation.org