Honouring the sacred river

Reflection: The Salmon Celebration
by Richard Butler

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My friend Craig Jones is writing a book about Chief N’Kwala, leader of what Craig asserts was one of the First Nations among the late pre-contact Okanagan peoples.

In that connection, Craig has developed working relationships and friendships with a number of modern-day leaders of the Okanagan Nation Alliance,¹ including Clarence Louie.

Craig is a keen motorcyclist, having actually built a bike from scratch with spare parts. His son Daniel recently obtained his license and now also has a motorcycle of his own.

Chief Clarence is the long-time chief of the Osoyoos Indian Band. He is a real character: very much larger than life. That comes across in bold italics throughout his intentionally provocative book, Rez Rules.²

Clarence is himself an avid motorcyclist. This quote from the end of the book pretty well captures the essence of the book and of the man. “Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body but rather to pin the throttle and skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting ‘Holy shit … what a ride!’”

As I learned from his book, Chief Clarence takes part in a number of  annual “Indian”³ motorcycle rides. He said his favorite (to the date of the book’s publication) was the Wounded Knee Memorial Motorcycle Run.

But now there is also the three-day run down to the mouth of the Columbia River and tracking back north across the border, following the river system and the salmon, and ending up near what is now the tiny village of Okanagan Falls, British Columbia.⁴ The inaugural Okanagan Columbia River Salmon Motorcycle Run was in 2021.

I had been helping Craig with his book. It also happened that my wife and I had plans to visit the Okanagan for a week in September which corresponded with the dates for the 2025 Okanagan Columbia run. I was very eager to be introduced to Chief Clarence and perhaps even hang out.

“Could I ride along?” I asked.

“You suddenly got a bike?” Craig replied.

“Nope. What about in one of the support vehicles?”

Not going to happen. “But why not come to the Sunday winding-up ceremony at Okanagan Falls?”

So it came to pass that I joined in the 2025 celebration to honour the sacredness of the river on a rainy afternoon last fall.

Let me provide some background, borrowed from the Syilx Okanagan website,⁵ and then share a few personal impressions from that wonderful day:

It is one of the goals of the Syilx Okanagan Nation to carry on the work of the people’s ancestors and Elders who taught the importance of preserving and revitalizing the traditions, customs, and language of the Syilx people. The Salmon Feast honours the sacredness of the river at sx̌ʷəx̌ʷnitkʷ (Okanagan Falls), which is a culturally significant site for the Syilx Okanagan People, and an important traditional fishing camp, gathering place and trading site. The Salmon Feast is a three-day event that involves multiple activities including: ceremonies, a canoe paddle, and on Sunday a salmon feast and ceremony for snx̌aʔiwləm (to honour the sacredness of the river).

The Annual Salmon Feast is an essential practice in the continued organized efforts of the Okanagan Nation Alliance and member communities to raise the importance of the habitat protection and rehabilitation of local ecosystems, watersheds, and renew connections and relationships between all residents of the Region with water and fish. It is vitally important that we honour the salmon so they will always come back to feed the people. This event occurs annually on the third weekend in September.

The Okanagan valley is blessed with a string of narrow lakes set amidst the mountain ranges: the largest of the lakes, Okanagan Lake in the north; then Skaha, Vaseux, and Osoyoos Lakes to the south. The lakes are joined by rivers meandering through fertile flats between them. Ideal salmon habitat.

The village of Okanagan Falls is located at the south end of Skaha Lake, past the highway bridge over the river which links Skaha and Vaseux Lakes. Heading south on the highway, down the long hill and just before you get to the bridge, there is a turn-off onto a small road. That road leads past the falls and small dam, through what is now a provincial park, and then winds its way up into the hills to the west of the lake/river system.

I have taken that turn-off many times, heading for the wineries perched above the valley and then the plateau of pines, scrub lands, alkali lakes, and small ranch holdings which extends southward until you get to a road that leads you back down again to join the highway at Oliver. I always thought the park looked lovely—but had never stopped there before.

Arriving at the celebration on Sunday, there was a sign on the way into the campsite: “Closed for a private event.” On the contrary, the welcome I received could not have been more open-armed or open-hearted.

A young man was sitting on a folding chair next to the sign. The parking attendant. He asked me for my name and cell number, which he then wrote on a scrap of paper and handed it to me to put on my dash.

“Where do I park?” 

“Are you an elder? Just over there.”

“Well, I’m elderly but not an elder. You should reserve those spots for them. I should go to the regular parking.”

“Okay, follow the road into the campsite and look for the next guy.” So I did.

“Are you the next guy?”

“I guess so. Just park there in front of the blue van.”

I looked. Where he told me to park would block the van from exiting.

“But he won’t be able to get out.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll just call you to come and move the car.” Ah-ha—the piece of paper.

Once parked, I looked around for the cook tent. My wife Penny had bought a bag of dried cranberries at Costco in Kelowna. With her permission, I thought I’d contribute them to the feast. The guys I met by the trailer with the barbeque still loaded on the back looked a bit dubious at first. But then “thanks,” they said, “we’ll give the cranberries to the cooks.”

On I went, making my way through campsites occupied by local families as well as groups of bikers, toward the area of river bank where the celebration would apparently soon begin.

The set-up included a number of tables and chairs, as well as some backyard canopies such as you might buy from Canadian Tire; a microphone stand in front of the main canopy; a small group of men under it, greeting one another and chatting; other people gradually gathering round, randomly. Some of them were taking pictures, so I did too.

There was rain, the smell of the river, muddy grass underfoot, wood smoke, and me with my red jacket and golf umbrella not feeling at all out of place. Most striking were the ribbon skirts, dozens of them, each in a range of colours: sometimes matching ones, worn by mothers and daughters. Each and every woman I asked told me her skirt had been made for her by one of her relations.

Things got started: There would be speakers—including the chiefs from along the salmon route. One was likely Clarence himself—but I couldn’t really see if it was him. So much for hanging out. But Craig wasn’t there on Sunday in any event. He and Daniel had returned north on the night before.

Each chief was introduced and welcomed, and each of them gave a welcome in return, in his own language. There were no artificial national boundaries, no “elbows up” between or among them. A number of chiefs from south of the border spoke about the fights they had fought against the U.S. government over the years about dams; about going to jail; about the land and the rivers and the salmon and themselves. One white guy shouted out a slogan, as if he were at a rally for Palestine. Embarrassing to me but no one else seemed to mind or even notice.

There were the stories of creation and connections with the land, the water, the animals; interrelations with one another along the rivers, to the south, the west, the north. Coyote built a long house over by the lake and across where the highway now runs: where maybe we’ll rebuild it someday. The Creator asked water, salmon, deer, roots and berries, each in turn, what each would give to humankind; and then what humankind promised it would give to each of them in return. Mutual responsibilities, mutual belonging.

There were songs amidst the rain, recorded on my phone and sent to my son, Nico, whom I wished could be there with me. Everyone sang along who knew the words. I kept time with my now-furled umbrella. There were yips and trilling of excitement and joy where, on a different day and place, there would have been polite applause.

A prayer was offered: let us pray to whoever may be listening.

Then there were the ceremonial salmon. Participants forming a number of uneven, winding lines which eventually merged into one, like tributaries in a river system. Noone pushed ahead. Some appropriately held back. There was a fragment of salmon for everyone; loaves and fishes. I was privileged to bear witness.

At lunch afterwards, I was told the cooks had put a few cranberries on everyone’s plate. Nice.

There was art work for sale and a raffle for a Pendleton blanket. I bought a ticket but didn’t win. I also bought a hoodie for Nico with a salmon on the front.

Look at it closely: Coyote comprises the eye and nose and open mouth, a pair of wolves appear along the dorsal spine, and we see the blue of the river, where salmon roe become smolts which become full grown salmon as they reach the cedar green of the sea shore. This is all set against an image of the sun which at the same time represents the four points of the compass: as each of the speakers had said.

The annual ride and celebration is part of the larger Columbia River Salmon Reintroduction Initiative, an Indigenous-led collaboration of those Okanagan Nations and the governments of Canada and British Columbia.

As chief after chief told us at the September celebration, salmon have been blocked from returning to the Canadian portion of the upper Columbia River since Grand Coulee Dam foundations were put in place in 1939. The long-term vision is to return salmon stocks for Indigenous food, social and ceremonial needs, and to benefit the region’s residents and ecosystems as a whole.⁶ 

To follow up on the September celebration, the Syilx, Okanagan, Secwépemc, and Ktunaxa Nations together held a five-day event in mid-October, 2025—the Salmon Warrior event. Nineteen young adults from those four  Nations worked with the Okanagan Nation Alliance’s Fisheries and Natural Resource teams in hands-on habitat restoration and broodstock management. The group also toured the ONA’s kł cp̓əlk̓ stim̓ conservation hatchery, deepening their understanding of the life cycle of salmon and Indigenous stewardship. The outcomes included leadership and relationship-building, and renewed commitment to salmon conservation.

The gathering also prioritized cultural connection and wellness. Youth engaged in spirit games that sparked laughter and teamwork, while cold plunges fostered resilience and courage. Drumming and singing united participants in ceremony and celebration. Walking the land and visiting the waterways were opportunities for reflection. As one young Salmon Warrior expressed, “I want to be able to go to the water throughout this week as a form of self-care.”

In Rez Rules, Chief Clarence writes at length about different approaches to being Indian; about pride in being on a reserve and Indians taking proud care of the land and themselves. Clarence tells it like it is.

He writes with passion and conviction about Band leadership resisting the political pressure to distribute the yearly “per capita” government payments to youths who will only enrich local used car dealers by buying a “Rez bomb” (as Clarence admits he did himself when he was young). Versus investing that money in a Seventh Generation Savings account to support projects which create job opportunities and better secure the members’ finances, present and future. A so-called “miracle in the desert.”

Opponents may say that is paternalistic. Clarence would likely say it is stewardship of his people, in keeping with stewardship of the land, the rivers, the salmon. Looking after one another. Mutual responsibility. Mutual belonging. Riding together.

Clarence has served as elected chief of the Osoyoos Indian Band continuously for over four decades. Something is clearly working here.

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Richard Butler lives on the traditional territory of the lekwungen-speaking Peoples, a retired lawyer and sometime law professor, and more recently a writer on various Indigenous subjects. He is the author of Taking Reconciliation Personally, I Dare Say… Conversations with Indigeneity, and the recent title What Is This? Who Am I?: Culturally Informed Appreciation of Coastal Peoples’ Artworks, published through A & R Publishing. [Editor’s Note: Richard Butler wrote the essay An Exercise in Futility and has recently reviewed the films Sugarcane & Racing to keep our language alive: H̓ágṃ́ṇtxv Qṇtxv Tx̌ (We’re all we got) and books by Jody Wilson-Raybould and Roshan Danesh, Marianne Ignace and Ronald E. Ignace, Philip Seagram, and Val Napoleon, Rebecca Johnson, Richard Overstall and Debra McKenzie (eds.) for The British Columbia Review.]

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The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors, 2023-26: Trevor Marc Hughes (non-fiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

“Only connect.” – E.M. Forster

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Notes

1. The Okanagan Nation Alliance (ONA) was formed in 1981 as the inaugural First Nations government in the Okanagan which represents the 8 member communities including; Okanagan Indian Band, Upper Nicola Band, Westbank First Nation, Penticton Indian Band, Osoyoos Indian Band and Lower and Upper Similkameen Indian Bands and the Colville Confederated Tribes on areas of common concern. Each community is represented through the Chiefs Executive Council (CEC) by their Chief or Chairman. Their traditional territory straddles the Canada-U.S. border. ↩︎
2. See review: https://thebcreview.ca/2022/02/08/1374-favrholdt-louie-osoyoos/ ↩︎
3. As Clarence would have put it. ↩︎
4. https://www.kelownanow.com/watercooler/news/news/Penticton/Born_to_be_Wild/ ↩︎
5. https://syilx.org/about-us/syilx-nation/ ↩︎
6. The salmon are coming home: Historic return to the Columbia River | CRSRI ↩︎