P3 je 10
Spilyqy Tymoo, Warm Springs, Oregon
Odobet 3, 2002
Story and photos by Shannon Keaveny
arm Springs native,
WMark Johnson, gin
gerly bobs his trigger
string at the edge of a
15-foot scaffold.
As suddenly as the string
jerks and pulls down, he is on
his feet.
Feet planted firmly and rope
around his waist, he bridles the
20 foot pole and, with swift
steady movements, raises his net
out of the bubbling, churning
waters of Sherar Falls.
Inside the homespun net
flops a good catch-a 35 lb fall
chinook salmon.
"That felt good." said an
elated but winded Johnson, wip
ing the beads of perspiration
from his forehead.
"The whole scaffold shook
on that one." chimed in his
cousin, Julian Scott.
Both men were taught how
to fish by their grandfather atwai
Elmer Scott Sr. The Scott fam
ily is one of many families who
have fished Sherar Falls since
time immemorial. They lay
claim to a fishing hole accessible
only by a precarious platform
built over the tumultuous water
"just right." '
A family that's fished that
hole for generations can tell
from as far as 200 feet, whether
its angled correct," says Terry
Courtney Jr., tribal traditional
fisherman and scaffold builder.
Elmer Scott Sr., mentor to
Terry Courtney Jr. as well, grew
up on the Deschutes River with
his family. He told his proteges,
that his father knew every fish
ing hole in that area from high
water to mid-water to low wa
ter. Uke his father before him,
he taught his sons.
"We used to live here from
spring to fall." reminisces Julian
Scott.
Julian Scott and Mark
Johnson have taught their boys
too.
"I started teaching my son
around nine," said Julian Scott.
"My son," said Johnson of
his 16-year-old, "is better than
me now."
A slippery situation
It is said that at one time In
dians of the Columbia Basin
didn't bother with a scaffolds.
Instead, they balanced barefoot
on the slippery moss covered
lava rocks overlooking the
bottleneck water shoot of the
falls with a net made from hide.
Terry Courtney, Jr. remains
a bit skeptical. It is more likely,
he said, that they had some kind
of platform made from extra
wood after building their homes.
"Back then," he said "those
fish were 80-100 pounds. I've
tried it and it's hard to just fish
off the rocks."
They rigged hanging net sys
tems too, he said, nets that
crossed the river at the base of
the falls. Fish who failed to climb
the falls would fall back into
Elmer Scott
F.lmcr Scott has passed
away at the age of 97. I le is
survived by spouse Goldie
Wainanwit.
Other survivors include
children Daniel Scott, Gordon
U-c Scott, Dclscy Marie Scott,
I .lmcrScott Jr., and Rosemary
Scott Smith.
tern
ABOVE: Mark Johnson shows
TOP RIGHT: Julian Scott throws
BOTTOM RIGHT: Mark Johnson
catching a salmon.
their nets.
Today, and since before
Courtney can remember, scaf
folds tower directly over the
falls. Natives fishing there tie
ropes around their waists, to
assure hope if they fall in.
"We've been doing this our
whole lives, we just know we're
not going to fall in." explains
Johnson.
The surprisingly sturdy scaf
folds last about two years. Plat
forms are replaced when they
start getting wiggly. F'olks, like
Courtney, harness themselves to
the rocks along the edge and
build the frame.
"Most of the time I'll build
one by myself," he said. "One
time I had to do it five times
before I got it right. The family
could tell from far away I built
it in the wrong spot."
A difficult job didn't keep
Courtney from coming.
"I enjoyed fishing so much,
1 packed my lumber for scaf
folds all the way down."
Legendary salmon
A good Warm Springs fish
Chris Waylon Suppah
Chris Waylon Suppah passed
away on September 21. He was
20 years old.
Mr. Suppah is survived by his
mother, Wanda Suppah Van
Pelt. I lis father, Christopherson
Matilton Sr., passed away in
1982.
Other survivors of Mr.
Suppah include brothers Craig
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MJ&e&iz -Saefei sfif ittrJfr
off his 35 pound catch.
back a native catch.
pulls up his net after
erman knows its not good to
talk about the salmon fables
during the fishing season.
That can wait until winter
when we tell stories, said
Courtney.
A twisted tongue or excessive
eye blinking could be the out
come for a loose-lipped fisher
man. As the story goes, the
noble salmon offered them
selves to the people as food. The
deer and elk followed. Ceremo
nial feasts for the tribes revere
salmon second only to water for
their sacrifice.
Stories of grandeur by the
elders are easy to doubt when
you see today's fish. Elmer
Scott, Sr. told Courtney that in
a good night men used to catch
40-60 salmon. Now, says
Courtney, fishermen consider it
a good night if they catch 24.
Spring chinook are rarely seen
over 45 pounds.
"Gill nets on the Columbia
upset everything." explains
Courtney. The commercial fish
ing nets typically run 300 feet
long by 30 feet high across the
river, Fish are caught by their
Howlak
Matilton, ,of Texas;
Christopherson Matilton Jr., of
California; and Michael S.
Kalama, Chct Ralph Van Pelt,
Roger Amos Simtustus, and
Stanley Simtustus Jr.. of Warm
Springs.
Favorite hobbies of Mr.
Suppah were hunting, fishing
and drawing.
He also loved his cats and
1
SERES?
gills and only the smaller ones
escape through the holes of the
net.
As a result, Sherar Falls sees
fewer fish and smaller fish.
"The worst year was about
four years ago," laments
Courtney, "when the run was
only 24,000 salmon in the whole
year. There was a harvest cap
of 300 for the whole Columbia
River, where we get the major
ity of our ceremonial fish."
"That's what used to run in
one day. Pre-1870s, before the
dams, we had 8-16 million fish
in a year."
Those were the days when
stories like the one Courtney
heard three years ago were true.
"I have always heard the sto
ries but didn't know if they were
true because no one actually had
seen it. But this man saw it when
he was a little boy. They had a
creek where his family would
spear salmon and drag them out
with a horse. Well, he said, ev
ery once in a while they would
catch one so big, well, that fish
would start dragging the horse
out."
Legitimate efforts by the
tichum
dogs, and watching movies.
Dressing was held Wednes
day, September 25, at the
Simnasho Longhouse.
Burial was September 26 at
the Simnasho Cemetery.
Walter Roland Payne
Walter Roland Payne passed
away September 27.
1 ic was 37 years old.
JPt.'K-"- .
f
tribes, the state of Oregon and
the federal government through
out the nineties have started to
bring salmon counts back up.
The years of 2000 and 2001,
said Mike Gauvin, Warm
Springs fisheries harvest man
ager, were good and this year is
looking good too.
Gauvin and employees with
the US. Fish and Wildlife Ser
vice base their predictions on
fish returns to the Columbia
River.
"About 17 percent of the fish
from the Columbia River go to
the Deschutes." he said.
Biologists also can tell by the
jack salmon returns. A jack
salmon is a salmon less than
three years old and often male.
"If we see a large jack return,
we'll have large run in the fol
lowing year." he explained.
A lot of the returns are based
on cyclical weather patterns. For
instance, ocean conditions, pro
duction, and drought cycles will
affect salmon populations.
Other hindrances for salmon
runs are dams, grazing and log
ging. Dams just block the way
and reduce water for salmon.
Mr. Payne is survived by his
spouse Willette Vernita Payne.
Also surviving Mr. Payne are
his father, Richard Wayne
Payne, and children Dora Flora
Payne, Ariel Vernita and Walter
Roland Payne IV.
Surviving brothers are
Owens James Yahtin, Virgil
Evans Meanus and Richard
Wayne Payne Jr. ,
"Getting the fish through the
main stem of the Columbia
River is always a problem. Fish
need water and they need it
cold." said Gauvin.
Cattle eat riparian vegetation
that provides shade and keeps
water cool. Smaller fish, which
are food for salmon, can hide
behind roots and grasses ensur
ing a better chance of survival.
Logging creates similar prob
lems and high levels of silt in
the water can smoother redds
(spawning beds).
This year, due to conserva
tion efforts, the Sherar Falls
harvest cap is up to 500.
"It's not a restrictive measure
because tribal members won't
reach it." explained Gauvin.
The years when the tribes
don't have enough fish for cer
emonial purposes are hopefully
over.
"Just take what you need. No
matter what happens we still
need to follow our traditional
ways. It's not just about full bel
lies, it's about honoring the fish.
When times are tough we need
to adjust," says Courtney of the
people's responsibility towards
preservation of the salmon.
The catch
"For a long time I heard In
dians were like wolves. It took
a while but I finally understood
why," explains Courtney.
"You see wolves chase their
food until they get tired. Then
the ones that slow down first,
the sickened and the weak,
those become their food. We do
that with fish."
The salmon run up the
middle of the river, especially
the strong and big. As they try
to jump up the falls and rapids,
some grow tired. They start
pulling into the banks. At Sherar
Falls, they rest and hide in the
many holes and caves under the
pounding falls. That's where Co
lumbia River basin Indians jab
their nylon nets into their fam
ily fishing hole.
"That's when we gct'em. It
is survival of the fittest, only
the strong ones that don't rest
make it through." says
Courtney. "We do just like the
wolves.'
Dusk and dawn are the best
times to fish. A good season will
keep Natives under the harvest
moon all night catching fish. A
community tent, belonging to
the Scott family, is open for use
to those fishermen who want to
stay.
The black lava rocks echo of
fishermen come and gone. As
dusk settles in and shadows
move over the hills, the silhou
ettes of propelling salmon
jumping over the white foam
ing falls make words like Terry
Courtney's resinate.
"I ani so lucky to have this
reserved right to fish by my
own methods and it is an honor
that I can not abuse."
Surviving sisters are Unda
Marie Meanus and Josie Ann
Payne.
Dressing was Monday, Sep
tember 30, at the Agency
I-onghouse.
Burial was Tuesday, Octo
ber 1, at the Simnasho Cemetery.