It was eerily quiet and we woke to a dense fog. Creeping out of our tents, we stretched and surveyed the port where we had arrived the previous night. We were at the mouth of the Klamath River to meet Yurok fishers Johnny and Bob Jackson, and their friend James Gist.
My two companions and I had spent the last few days with members of the Yurok, California’s largest Native American tribe. We’d been invited to spend time at their traditional White Deerskin Dance – a real honour – having spent a year liaising with tribal elders, and talking about the work we had been doing through the indigenous-led charity If Not Us Then Who?
The Yurok have been dispossessed of most of their land, the majority of which is now owned by timber corporations or has been taken by the national parks system. Although their reservation comprises 23,000 hectares (56,000 acres) of contiguous land along the Klamath River, only scattered plots adding up to about 2,000 hectares are under partial tribal ownership. Most Yurok land remains in non-Native American hands under the auspices of forest management, which has disempowered the Yurok people and disrupted their ability to access natural resources and land.
Back at the port, we headed out with the Jackson brothers and James in their small boat to fish the southern shore at the mouth of the Klamath for salmon. This narrow channel where the Pacific and the river meet is where the Yurok cast their traditional nets from the shores. Competition for space between the sports fishers, tourists, and the Yurok is revealing to watch and, as the sports fishers raised their rods and the Yurok dragged their nets, it had the feeling of a strange ballet, a dance for space and right of way.
A few hours later, we headed back to the port and the connected campground, where some of the Yurok families live – the proximity to work, fishing and the small town being the draw. Life and circumstances have changed immeasurably, but this remains their home.
Walking from the boat, I was intrigued by a group of kids who appeared exhausted from either helping their parents fish or returning from their own mini fishing adventures. In the thin light of a mid-morning sun that had broken through the fog, a bunch of them were gathered outside one RV. I shot different scenes and they soon forgot about me and carried on doing their own thing.
