Spilyay Tymoo, Warm Springs, Oregon
January 27, 2021
Tribal fishing: occupational hazards
(Continued from page 1)
Despite those treaties, dwindling
salmon runs have forced the tribes
to strike a delicate balance between
their rights to the salmon, other
commercial and recreational fish-
ers, and protecting the environment.
Covid-19 has made salmon fish-
ing, culturally and economically
important for the people on this
stretch of the Columbia, even more
difficult. The outbreak has had a
disproportionate impact on tribes.
In Oregon, Washington and a
dozen other states, American In-
dian and Alaska Native people have
died at nearly twice the rate of
white people.
Covid-19 took from the Yakama
Nation two leaders who had long
helped protect salmon and fishing
rights. In April, tribes mourned the
loss of Bobby Begay, a leader at
Celilo Village who died at age 51
from complications of the
coronavirus. In July, the Yakama
Nation mourned for Johnny Jack-
son, chief of the Cascade Band of
the Yakama, an elder who lived on
the bank of the White Salmon River
near Underwood, Washington, and
was a passionate advocate for the
River People of the Columbia
Gorge and their abiding connection
to salmon. Jackson died after be-
ing hospitalized with Covid-19.
Other Native people who fish
the Columbia continue to be at risk
of contracting the coronavirus.
They live and work in conditions
that can be crowded at times, and
their work brings them into con-
tact with people from around the
region. But those challenges did not
prevent fishers from participating
in the 2020 harvest. The annual re-
turn of salmon to the river not only
connects the four treaty tribes to a
way of living that predates their loss
of land to white settlers, but also is
the primary source of income for
many tribal members.
During the fall commercial
gillnet fishing season, which ended
on Octover 7, Columbia River In-
ter-Tribal Fish Commission staff
found itself in pandemic-response
mode.
The commission provides tech-
nical assistance to the four Colum-
bia Plateau treaty tribes. This year,
CRITFC employees tasked with
helping fishers in business develop-
ment and regulatory compliance
also delivered supplies from the
Yakama Nation to fishers camped
at access sites on the Columbia
River. The food, water, toilet pa-
per, and cleaning and school sup-
plies from the Washington-based
tribal government was distributed
to people along the river to cope
with Covid-19.
“When the pandemic hit, people
living year-round on the river didn’t
have easy access to the health care
[available] back on the reservation,”
says CRITFC Executive Director
Jaime Pinkham, who is Nez Perce.
“They were falling through the
cracks.”
The tribes partnered with One
Community Health, which oper-
ates clinics on both sides of the
Columbia River Gorge, to connect
fishers with local health care ser-
vices. Also, says Pinkham,
CRITFC and its partners and
funders “worked hard to get a
medical vehicle to do testing.”
That van will now be used to do
vaccinations on the river.
Leah Nash photo/underscore.news
Sam George gillnet fishes the Columbia River for salmon in October
off the Stanley Rock Treaty Fishing Access Site in Hood River.
“
When the pandemic
hit, people living year-
round on the river
didn’t have easy access
to health care… They
were falling through the
cracks. ”
— Jaime Pinkham
executive director, CRITFC
‘Could have been worse’
Treaty-tribe fishers got the go-
ahead to fish with gill nets during a
three-day summer season that be-
gan in late June, and again during
the much longer fall season that
began in August and ended in early
October. The tribes closed the
gillnet season after steelheads, an
oceangoing form of rainbow trout,
came back in greater-than-expected
numbers, resulting in a large catch
that was approaching the harvest
limit. The 2020 runs for Chinook
salmon, however, were significantly
lower than the 10-year average, al-
though more adult spring and sum-
mer Chinook salmon passed
through Bonneville Dam this year
than in 2019.
Fishers who use traditional plat-
forms and dip nets, or conventional
hook-and-line gear, were allowed to
continue fishing through the end
of the year, for both subsistence
and commercial sales. Brigham,
whose grandfather fished at Celilo
Falls, will continue to sell fish that
is caught by family members from
scaffolds in Cascade Locks.
Overall, the fishing in 2020 was
“not super amazing,” she says. “But
it could have been worse.”
Each year, biologists from the
four tribes that have traditionally
fished in the Columbia River meet
with their counterparts from state
and federal agencies. Together, they
analyze fish counts and use com-
puter models to make their best
guess as to how many fish can be
sustainably harvested. After ac-
counting for fish that are needed
as hatchery broodstock, or that will
be allowed to escape upriver to pro-
duce a new generation of wild
salmon, they determine how many
are available for harvesting.
The individual tribes decide the
fishing seasons and regulations for
their members. Tribes divide their
allocated salmon harvest among
three categories: ceremonial use,
subsistence, and commercial fish-
ing. Fishers exercising their treaty
rights are legally entitled to half the
yearly harvest of Columbia River
salmon.
Occupational hazards
Although Native fishers work
outdoors, some of their working
and living conditions put them at
increased risk of contracting the
coronavirus. A typical fishing boat
used for gillnet fishing is about 20
feet long and has a crew of four
people who may or may not be
members of the same household.
Fishers are elbow-to-elbow while
pulling in nets, which makes it im-
possible to maintain social distance.
While the gillnetting season was
open, Brigham limited the size of
her crew to reduce the chances of
exposure to the coronavirus and
to protect her father, who fishes
with her. She fished with only her
core crew, rather than hiring addi-
tional help.
But boats are not the only place
where fishers come into close con-
tact.
When the salmon are running,
people from across the Pacific
Northwest, many of them living
on reservations in Washington,
Idaho, and Oregon, come to the
Columbia to fish. Tribal govern-
ments urged fishers to start social
distancing even before heading to
the river, to minimize their con-
tacts with people outside their own
households, and to get tested for
Covid-19 through tribal clinics.
“People tend to travel from vil-
lage to village, especially during
fishing season,” says Lana Jack,
who identifies as Celilo Wyam.
Jack lives in Celilo Village and
made regular deliveries last year
of face masks, hand sanitizer, and
other supplies to people at smaller
villages along the Columbia.
Page 7
dining table. The least-developed
sites have only pit toilets and no
running water. In the fall, the busi-
est season, hundreds of people fish
on the river, and 2020 was no dif-
ferent.
The pandemic also brought new
procedures for mask wearing and
physical distancing at wholesale
and over-the-bank sales stations. At
the wholesale stations, “fishermen
couldn’t get out of their vehicles,”
says Brigham. But at over-the-bank
stations, where fishers sell their
catch directly to customers, not all
of the customers took care to wear
masks.
The federal government has
broken its promises to construct
permanent housing for Native
American families whose homes
along the Columbia were inundated
by dam construction. Celilo Village,
which is visible from Interstate 84,
is the only site where the govern-
ment has constructed replacement
houses for Native Americans since
dam construction began in the
1930s.
“It’s part of our identity to fish
and to eat fish. For tribal people,
there’s no way to keep them away
from the river.” -- Jeremy
FiveCrows, public affairs special-
ist for the Columbia River Inter-
Tribal Fish Commission
At sites such as Lone Pine in
The Dalles, residents still lack ac-
cess to basic amenities, including
running water, electrical connec-
tions, and a sewer system.
It’s not just about building
houses, Pinkham says. River com-
munities also need adequate health
care and social services, a year-
round economy, and schools for
their children. “Covid has taught
us a lot about the infrastructure
for a long-term sustainable com-
munity on the river,” he says.
Sales decline
Living conditions at camps and
villages weren’t the only challenges
for fishers coping with Covid-19.
Because of the virus, the fall com-
mercial fishing season took place
in a radically altered economic en-
vironment. In the U.S., about 70%
of all seafood is consumed in res-
taurants, so restaurant closures and
restrictions necessitated by the pan-
demic have had a major impact on
the salmon business.
There are two types of custom-
ers for Columbia River salmon
caught by Native fishers: The ma-
jority of the catch is purchased by
wholesalers, who in turn sell the
fish to higher-end restaurants and
endangered and are protected un-
der the Endangered Species Act,
10 are lagging behind recovery
goals, and five of those are con-
sidered “in crisis.”
This assessment is contained the
2020 State of Salmon in Water-
sheds report, released this month.
“Time is running out,” the report
says.
(About the author : Dawn Sto-
ver is a freelance science and envi-
ronmental writer based in W hite
Salmon, Washington, and a contrib-
uting editor and columnist at The
Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists.
This article first appeared at
underscore.news)
Broken promises
Some Native American fishers
live year-round at 31 fishing sites
along the Columbia that are re-
served for their use; many others
join them seasonally. Many people
at these sites are living in condi-
tions that are unsafe and unsani-
tary. Legislation enacted in Decem-
ber 2019 authorized the Secretary
of the Interior to assess and im-
prove facilities at fishing sites, but
that process is still in the assess-
ment phase. The omnibus spend-
ing bill Congress passed shortly
before the end of the year set
aside $1.5 million for the treaty
sites in 2021.
Tribal governments brought in
wash stations and additional por-
table toilets, and they increased jani-
torial services. But even at the
best-equipped sites, fishers must
share facilities such as showers and
fish-cleaning stations. They have
to crowd around processing tables
that are not much bigger than a
Leah Nash photo/underscore.news
Terrie Brigham, who manages the Brigham Fish Market in Cascade
Locks, serves customers during a busy day at the market, despite
the Covid-19 outbreak. Brigham, a member of the Confederated
Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, calls herself “one of the
lucky ones.” The market has stayed open during the pandemic by
relying on takeout orders, outdoor seating, and federal relief funding
that has helped keep employees on the payroll. Brigham’s sister
owns the business, which specializes in fresh and smoked fish
from the Columbia River, mostly caught by family members.
New report says ‘time running out’ for some salmon species
A new Northwest report puts it
bluntly: Because of the devastat-
ing effects of climate change and
deteriorating habitats, several spe-
cies of salmon in the Pacific
Northwest are “on the brink of
extinction.” As an example:
Of the 14 species of salmon
and steelhead trout in the state of
Washington that have been deemed
grocery stores. The rest is sold
“over the bank” directly to the pub-
lic, either at businesses like the
Brigham Fish Market or at small
stands near the river in Cascade
Locks and other locations along the
Columbia River Gorge.
Roughly 75- to 80-percent of
tribal fishers on the Columbia sell
to wholesalers. This year, not as
many wholesalers showed up to buy
fish. Fishers can still sell directly to
customers or to small markets like
Brigham’s, but that doesn’t make
up for the loss of their biggest mar-
ket.
Additionally, fishers couldn’t ap-
ply for coronavirus assistance fund-
ing provided by the CARES Act
until the commercial fishing season
was underway, months after the pan-
demic began, because applicants
were required to provide extensive
documentation of their receipts and
expenditures—paperwork that
many fishers didn’t have.
Sales both to wholesalers and to
the public have traditionally been
cash transactions, and fishers have
paid their crew members in cash.
Many of them haven’t kept good
records, and this traditional way of
doing business has proved to be a
problem in the time of Covid-19.
Organizations like CRITFC and the
Northwest Indian Fisheries Com-
mission have tried to help fishers
quantify the economic impacts of
the pandemic on their livelihoods,
but the process has been frustrat-
ing for those who rely on the infor-
mal economy.
Many of these health and eco-
nomic challenges are continuing
into 2021. They come on top of
climate forecasts that predict a con-
tinued decline in salmon runs.
That won’t stop fishing on the
Columbia. As Covid-19 vaccines
begin to roll out, people who fish
the river eagerly await the arrival
of the first spring Chinook salmon,
which usually happens in early April.
“It’s part of our identity to fish
and to eat fish,” says Jeremy
FiveCrows, who is Nez Perce and
works as a public affairs specialist
at CRITFC. “For tribal people,
there’s no way to keep them away
from the river.”
“The climate is changing, rivers
are warming, habitat is diminish-
ing, and the natural systems that
support salmon in the Pacific
Northwest need help now more
than ever.”
Researchers say recovery ef-
forts—involving tribes, state and
federal agencies, local conserva-
tion groups and others—have
helped slow the decline of some
salmon populations. The January
report finds that two species—
the Hood Canal summer chum
and Snake River fall chinook—
have been approaching their re-
covery goals.
It also notes that no new salmon
species had been added to the en-
dangered list since 2007.
Symptoms of Covid-19 can
include fever, cough,
shortness of breath or
difficulty breathing, chills,
muscle pain, headache, sore
throat, loss of taste or smell.
If you have symptoms or are
concerned you came in
contact with Covid-19, call
the registered nurse health
advice hotline at 1-866-470-
2015. During business hours
you can call the IHS Covid-19
nurse triage hotline at 541-
553-5512.