TRIBAL CANOE JOURNEYS ON NORTH AMERICA’S NORTHWEST COAST:
WELL-BEING, ANCESTRAL KNOWLEDGE AND TECHNIQUES, INDIGENOUS
RESISTANCE AND CULTURAL RESURGENCE.
by
Alexandre Dantas e Sousa
B.A., University of Brasília, 2006

THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF
THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
MASTER OF ARTS
IN
FIRST NATIONS STUDIES

UNIVERSITY OF NORTHERN BRITISH COLUMBIA
February 2025
© Alexandre Sousa, 2025

ii

Abstract
This thesis explores the cultural and political significance of the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ)
among Indigenous communities of North America’s Northwest Coast, focusing on the Coast
Salish, Nuu-chah-nulth, and Kwakwaka’wakw. By examining contemporary practices
surrounding canoe-making and participation in canoe journeys, the research investigates how
canoes bridge ancestral knowledge and modern cultural resurgence, embodying Indigenous
resistance against colonial legacies. Using a decolonial framework that integrated Critical
Indigenous Theory, the study analyzes canoes’ material and symbolic construction and their
practical roles in Indigenous resurgence. Engaging directly with Indigenous knowledge holders
and TCJ participants, ethnographic fieldwork, in-depth interviews, and multimedia documentation
from the 2023 TCJ were used as methods, aiming for Indigenous perspectives to remain central to
the analysis. A thematic analysis identified the themes of cultural revitalization and resurgence;
intergenerational transmission of knowledge; personal transformation and healing; community,
cultural integrity, and environment; leadership, empowerment and political and social activism.
These themes emphasize TCJ’s role in Indigenous cultural revitalization, enabling participants to
reconnect with their ancestral knowledge and practices. It also contributes to personal and
collective healing and creating transformative experiences. The research further analyzes the TCJ
as a dynamic space of cultural hybridity, where tradition is maintained while embracing modern
elements. The findings suggest that the TCJ is a celebration of Indigenous identity and an active
form of resistance against colonial structures. This research contributes to understanding the TCJ
as a living practice that defies static notions of culture and continues to promote Indigenous
sovereignty, cultural identity, and political activism. Ultimately, it argues that canoes, both as

iii

objects and metaphors, are central to the resurgence of Indigenous cultural practices and to ongoing
decolonial movements.
Key-words: Canoe, Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ), Pacific Northwest Coast Indigenous
Nations, Indigenous cultural resurgence, decolonial

iv

Table of Contents

Abstract ............................................................................................................................... ii
Table of Contents ............................................................................................................... iv
List of Tables .................................................................................................................... vii
List of Figures .................................................................................................................. viii
Glossary .............................................................................................................................. x
Acknowledgement ............................................................................................................. xi
Dedication ......................................................................................................................... xii
Introduction ......................................................................................................................... 1
The Tribal Canoe Journeys ............................................................................................. 5
Positionality .................................................................................................................. 10
Chapter one: Origins and Cultural Significance of Tribal Canoe Journeys ...................... 15
The Coast Salish: people, lands and waters .................................................................. 24
The Canoes.................................................................................................................... 31
Different types of canoes of the Northwest Coast. ................................................... 41
Chapter two: Coloniality, Indigenous resurgence through the canoe and the act of canoeing
....................................................................................................................................................... 50
Tribal Canoe Journeys as Indigenous Resurgence........................................................ 61

v

Chapter three: Methodology ............................................................................................. 65
Incorporating subjectivity into the research. ................................................................. 73
Methods......................................................................................................................... 75
Chapter four: Results, analysis, discussion. ...................................................................... 81
Analysis......................................................................................................................... 84
Robert........................................................................................................................ 84
Carol.......................................................................................................................... 93
John ........................................................................................................................... 98
Mark ........................................................................................................................ 103
Joe, Carl and Clayoquot Sound............................................................................... 112
Lauri ........................................................................................................................ 127
Discussion & Recurrent themes .................................................................................. 134
Cultural Revitalization and Resurgence.................................................................. 135
Intergenerational Transmission of Knowledge ....................................................... 140
Personal Transformation and Healing .................................................................... 144
Community, Cultural Integrity, and Environment .................................................. 147
Leadership, Empowerment and Political and Social Activism ............................... 150
Chapter five: Conclusion ................................................................................................ 154
References ....................................................................................................................... 157

vi

Figures............................................................................................................................. 166
Annex .............................................................................................................................. 192

vii

List of Tables
Table 1: Collaborator Overview

viii

List of Figures
All photos, except those explicitly credited to other authors, were taken by the author.
Figure 1: Britannica, T. Editors of Encyclopaedia (2011, August 17). Maps of the World.
Encyclopedia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Maps-of-the-World-1788586.
Figure 2: Paddler displaying mask during landing ceremony. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 3: Canoes at Alki Beach, after lading ceremony. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 4: Canoes arriving for the landing ceremony at Alki Beach, Seattle. Paddle to Muckleshoot
2023.
Figure 5: Protocol performance. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 6: Protocols audience. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 7: Protocols audience wearing a Cedar tree bark hat. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 8: Protocols drumming and the master of ceremony. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 9: 2023 Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023 Agenda. https://muckleshootcanoejourney.com/faqs.
Figure 10: Paddlers fraternizing after landing at Alki Beach, Seattle. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 11: Muckleshoot Tribal members during the protocols of landing at Alki Beach, Seattle.
Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 12: Man crafting hats with cedar tree bark during the protocols. Paddle to Muckleshoot
2023.
Figure 13: Muckleshoot Tribal members during the protocols of landing at Alki Beach, Seattle.
Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 14: Canoes sitting on Alki Beach after landing. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 15: Example of Canoe used on TCJ and its road trailer. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 16: Canoe with a mast and sail for catching a tailwind. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

ix

Figure 17: Examples of strip canoes sitting on Alki Beach after landing. Paddle to Muckleshoot
2023.
Figure 18: Canoe approaching for landing protocol at Alki Beach after landing. Paddle to
Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 19: Map of Northwest Coast Nations by Noahedits - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=85061837
Figure 20: Cultural education shop at Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve, with the canoes that were made
to be gifted during the Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 21: Back view of the cultural education shop at Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve.
Figure 22: Tree logs used for carving activities in the backyard of the Cultural Education Shop at
Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve.
Figure 23: Display at the entrance of the community centre at the Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve.
Figure

24:

Map

of

Vancouver

Island

showing

Tla-o-qui-aht.

Wikipedia

map

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tla-o-qui-aht_First_Nations.
Figure

25:

Joe

and

his

relatives

carve

a

canoe

in

1984

acts

of

resistance

https://indiginews.com/features/joe-martin-spent-his-life-among-old-growth
Figure 26: Vending tents outside Muckleshoot Community centre during the Paddle to
Muckleshoot 2023.
Figure 27. Master Carver Joe Martin and me at Carl Martin’s shop.

x

Glossary
TCJ – Tribal Canoe Journey
TRC – Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada
ICH – Intangible Cultural Heritage

xi

Acknowledgement
I would like to express my gratitude to everyone who supported me throughout this
research journey. My heartfelt thanks go to the Indigenous communities, knowledge holders, and
canoe families who shared their experiences and wisdom with me. This thesis was only possible
with their stories, insights, and guidance.
A special thanks to the Muckleshoot Tribe, who hosted and welcomed me and my family
during the 2023 Tribal Canoe Journey. Your hospitality and generosity profoundly impacted me
and shaped the direction of this research.
I also wish to express my deep appreciation to all First Nations in Canada, whose lands I
now live in, especially the Lheidli T’enneh, whose unceded ancestral lands include Prince George,
British Columbia.
I am profoundly grateful to my supervisor, Dr. Agnieszka Pawlowska-Mainville, for her
unwavering support, expert guidance, and belief in my project. Your insights have been invaluable
in shaping this research. To my committee members, thank you for your constructive feedback
and encouragement.
To my family and friends, especially my wife, Dr. Júlia Clímaco, my daughter Ana, and
my son Luiz (born during the process of this study): your patience, love, and understanding were
my source of strength to persevere. I could not have completed this without your constant
encouragement.
Lastly, I acknowledge the University of Northern British Columbia for providing the
platform and funding to engage in this important research.

xii

Dedication

This thesis is dedicated to the canoe pullers, knowledge keepers, and Indigenous
communities who have fought tirelessly to preserve their cultural traditions and passed on their
wisdom to future generations. May this work honour your resilience, strength, and commitment
to Indigenous knowledge and ways of being.

It is also dedicated to my family, whose constant support has been my foundation, and to
all those seeking to reconnect with their heritage and the natural world.

1

Introduction
This research examines the canoe(s) and the cultural experience of canoeing together on
North America’s Northwest coast and in the Salish Sea as an object and a practice within a process
of Indigenous resistance and cultural resurgence movements. Focusing on techniques and
reflections regarding the material and social construction and usage of the canoe within Indigenous
knowledge systems, it explores contemporary approaches regarding the making of the canoe and
the perspectives of canoe knowledge-holders on canoeing together on Canoe Journeys or Tribal
Canoe Journeys (TCJ)1. From ancestral knowledge about the forest’s elements, the selection of
trees, the crafting of canoes, and the – often challenging – journey itself, numerous cultural
opportunities arise to transmit and rebuild knowledge and emic meanings as well as to share and
enjoy the voyage (Frandy & Cederström, 2017). The process of constructing canoes and
participating in the TCJ provides cultural opportunities for the transmission, revitalization and
maintenance of knowledge.
The Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) has been a critical cultural event since it started with the
Paddle to Seattle in 1989, celebrating the rich maritime heritage of Indigenous communities along
the Northwest Pacific coast. These annual gatherings reconnect participants to their ancestral
pathways and practices for exchanging cultural knowledge and traditions. The journeys, marked
by protocols and celebrations, have grown significantly, and they are currently a robust platform
for cultural revitalization and intergenerational learning. As communities paddle through
traditional routes, they reaffirm their connections to the land and each other, promoting a sense of
identity and resistance against cultural decline. Each canoe journey is a reaffirmation of Indigenous

1

I will use TCJ, Tribal Canoe Journeys, canoe journeys and journeys interchangeably.

2

sovereignty and an act of resistance embedded in the ceremonial exchange of songs, stories, and
dances, crucial for sustaining the Indigenous nations involved.
Since its inception in 1993, the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) have been held annually,
drawing Indigenous communities from the Northwest Pacific coast of North America, including
Canada and the United States. This event serves as a platform for various Indigenous Nations as
canoe families from diverse backgrounds embark on journeys to host communities. Notably, these
canoe families have preserved their knowledge and traditions for generations, and TCJ offers them
a unique opportunity to share their wisdom with other Indigenous communities (Beattie, 2017).
The Tribal Canoe Journeys events consist of multiple cultural festivities and exchanges
over a period of several days. In addition to the physical journey of paddling on the water,
participants engage in protocols that span several days. These protocols involve sharing songs,
dances, stories, and teachings (All Nations Paddles Up; Beattie, 2017; Daehnke, 2019; Johansen,
2012; Paddle to Muckleshoot; Pulling Together Canoe Society). The gathering has significantly
increased in participants throughout the years, attracting thousands of attendees to various host
communities located along the Northwest Pacific coast (Beattie, 2017). The TCJ serves as a
platform for Indigenous communities to unite through canoeing, celebrating, and transmitting their
cultural heritage.
Figure 1
Northwest Coast map

3

The origins of Tribal Journeys are diverse and subject to debate (Beattie, 2017; Hundley,
2022; Johansen, 2012; Marshall, 2011). One event widely recognized as its direct precursor is the
Paddle to Seattle in 1989, organized as part of the State of Washington’s centennial celebrations.
In July of that year, canoes, which have always held an important place for Indigenous Nations on
the Northwest Coast, set out from the Hoh and La Push tribal communities in Washington, USA,

4

embarking on a voyage through the Salish Sea to Puget Sound in Canada. They were joined by
canoes from the Heiltsuk, Lummi, Tulalip, and Suquamish nations, and together, they travelled to
Seattle, where they presented a letter to the people of the State of Washington. This letter, endorsed
by representatives from twenty-one tribal communities across the state, included the words of the
esteemed Duwamish and Suquamish leader, Si’ahl (Seattle), who called upon the residents and
government of the State of Washington to fulfill their responsibilities as caretakers of the earth
(Daehnke, 2019; Krupat, 2011). This journey not only reaffirmed the cultural significance of
traditional canoe travel but also served as a powerful statement of Indigenous resilience and
stewardship. It laid the groundwork for what would become an annual event, now known as Tribal
Journeys, where Indigenous Nations continue to celebrate their heritage, strengthen intertribal
relations, and advocate for environmental responsibility. Through these gatherings, the values
expressed in 1989 endure, promoting unity and cultural revitalization.

5

The Tribal Canoe Journeys
The present-day Canoe Journey serves as a powerful symbol of unity. For example, the
Coast Salish unite to revive nationhood ruptured by settler colonial boundaries (Hundley, 2022).
In this context, the Canoe Journey holds significant implications for understanding the identity
development process within the settler colonialism framework. As an example, many of the
Musqueam Nation members identify as “Coast Salish” (Hundley, 2022). Establishing a “third
space” (Bhabha, 1994), participants in the Canoe Journey create a platform for affirming a political
identity that challenges the existing power dynamics between non-Indigenous settlers and
Indigenous people and fosters a sense of collective agency (Hundley, 2022). Through their shared
participation in the Canoe Journey, Indigenous communities assert their presence, resilience, and
aspirations for self-determination, ultimately redefining and reclaiming their cultural and political
identities in the face of historical and ongoing colonial oppression.
Additionally, this research considers the evolving nature of TCJ as well as canoe-making
in this region. The pullers no longer adhere strictly or exclusively to “traditional” practices such
as celestial observations, natural signs, oral traditions, wayfinding techniques, sounds, waterway
knowledge, and intuition but incorporate contemporary elements, including GPS and the aid of
trucks following inland, support boat(s) and the costal guards, showcasing the journey’s ability to
adapt while retaining its cultural significance. This challenges the static notions of culture and
demonstrates that cultural traditions can thrive and adapt to modern contexts. For example,
academic and author Bruce Johansen (2012) writes that:
[…] During the past two decades, these canoe journeys have become a summertime staple
for Native peoples as well as for thousands of non-Indians who follow the “pullers” in
Washington, Oregon, and British Columbia […] The pullers are not purists. They may call

6

for help from chase boats on the global positioning system (GPS); trucks follow them on
shore with sleeping bags, food, and other supplies; and the US and Canadian coast guards
offer help if needed. This is not your great-great-grandfather’s canoe journey, but it is a
revival of culture and, to some extent, Indigenous languages. As such, cultural revival
through re-enactment of traditional practices has value. The canoe journeys (and the landbased events associated with them) might be compared with powwows in other areas [and
in the northwest coast too]. These also evolve over time, blending traditions with new
practices. No living culture is static. (p. 131-2)
Johansen (2012) highlights the evolving nature of the TCJ and its value in cultural revival
and the preservation of Indigenous languages. The journeys adapt traditional practices to
contemporary contexts by incorporating modern tools and support systems, ensuring the safety
and inclusivity of participants while maintaining cultural significance. Therefore, the study also
highlights the dynamic nature of the TCJ, which embraces tradition and innovation in preserving
Indigenous culture and heritage.
Furthermore, the journeys facilitate the learning and use of Indigenous languages through
songs, stories, and intergenerational coexistence, promoting cultural continuity.
Moreover, through listening to experiences of canoeing and exploring TCJ paddler’s
perspective, the research emphasized dimensions of cultural resurgence through local knowledge
transmission, material, and cultural heritage. This was done by recognizing the canoe as a technical
object and metaphorical methodology that plays a pivotal role in facilitating the experience of
cultural resurgence (Frandy & Cederström, 2017; Johansen, 2012; Leroi-Gourhan, 1993). These
cultural interactions occur from the canoe’s production and are further enriched during its
utilization, creating meaningful relationships and fostering a sense of connection and continuity

7

with cultural traditions and heritage (Frandy & Cederström, 2017). Thus, working with the canoe
and the TCJ paddler’s perspective provided an understanding of this living practice’s cultural
significance and transformative power It also provided insights into the landscape, the significance
of territories, the art of navigation, and the overall well-being derived from the pleasure and leisure
of paddling on the water with the canoe.
Beattie (2017) highlights a growing body of academic research on Tribal Canoe Journeys,
suggesting that these journeys serve as a pathway to resurgence for Indigenous nations, such as
the Heiltsuk, from Waglisla (Bella Bella) in the Central Coast region of British Columbia, with
whom she worked with. Her research, utilizing participatory video and interviews with community
members, found that TCJ promoted cultural resurgence, individual healing, reconnection to nature,
and stronger relationships within and across Indigenous communities. However, she also points
out several research gaps: the studies do not focus on Indigenous resurgence, they are limited in
scope and duration, and there needs to be more community participation and engagement. These
gaps indicate the need for further research about the journeys and what they represent to each
nation that takes part in them. By acknowledging the gaps in existing research and emphasizing
the importance of addressing these limitations, this study contributes to the understanding of
Indigenous resurgence movements through the lens of Critical Indigenous Theory and decolonial
perspectives.
This research explores the material and social construction of the canoe by Indigenous
knowledge holders from the Coast Salish, Nuu-chah-nulth, and Kwakwaka’wakw nations,
focusing on its use during the 2023 Tribal Canoe Journeys By examining the perspectives of the
paddlers, this study reveals how the Tribal Canoe Journeys serve as a bridge between past and
present, connecting Indigenous knowledge with contemporary cultural practices. The canoe, as

8

both a literal and metaphorical vessel, embodies this connection, preserving and propelling
historical consciousness. By addressing the research gaps, the study seeks to understand the
potential impacts of the TCJ and the cultural significance of the canoe, thereby expanding the
existing knowledge on Indigenous resurgence. The insights gained from this research may
contribute to a deeper understanding of the transformative potential and cultural importance of
these journeys.
Tribal Canoe Journeys challenge settler colonialism, revitalize cultural practices, and assert
Indigenous presence also by transcending international borders, understood here as colonial
borders. Each year, a different location is chosen for the journey, regardless of whether it falls on
the United States or the Canadian side of the Coast Salish Sea border2. Focusing on the 2023
journey, the Paddle to Muckleshoot, I interpret the journey as a microcosm to help me examine
how these cultural artifacts facilitate travel across physical spaces and through time. The intention
is to underscore how canoes - and the journeys they enable - are one of the central aspects of
heritage and ancestral connection to communities. Essentially, the canoe journey exists as a living
expression and element of these Coast Salish Nations’ intangible cultural heritage, as outlined in
the UNESCO 2003 Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage
(Pawłowska-Mainville, 2023). Indigenous communities are historical societies with a strong

2

Under Article III of the Jay Treaty (1794), Native Americans are granted the right to freely travel across the border
between the United States and Canada (then a British territory). The treaty states:
It is agreed that it shall at all times be free to His Majesty's subjects, and to the citizens of the United States,
and also to the Indians dwelling on either side of the said boundary line, freely to pass and repass by land or
inland navigation, into the respective territories and countries of the two parties, on the continent of America,
(the country within the limits of the Hudson's Bay Company only excepted) and to navigate all the lakes,
rivers, and waters thereof, and freely to carry on trade and commerce with each other.
Despite this legal guarantee, allegations of increased scrutiny of Indigenous individuals at the border have
surfaced over time, as reported in the “Border Crossing Issues and the Jay Treaty Canada". (Parliament.
Senate. Standing Committee on Aboriginal Peoples, Dyck, L. E., & Patterson, D. G. (2016). Border Crossing
Issues and the Jay Treaty. Senate of Canada).

9

understanding of the past, often passed on through oral testimony, ceremonies and cultural
activities. They view their experience of TCJ from a very long perspective, celebrating their
attachment to specific territories and devoting a great deal of community time to the remembrance
of ancestors and important events and processes (Johansen, 2012). The sense of rootedness in the
past is highlighted by the attachment of stories, oral histories, and legends to traditional lands,
sometimes even though the richness and texture of the different Indigenous languages, this
rootedness plays a vital role in preserving the Indigenous understanding of history (Coates, 2004).
In this way, it can be argued that the entire thesis revolves around canoes as an object and
the concepts they embody. Canoes enable journeys, shape the sense of place, forge alliances, elicit
stories, and revive mythos, similar to Marcel Mauss’s concept of the Total Social Fact (Mauss,
1990): a phenomenon that involves all aspects of society - economic, legal, political, religious, and
moral dimensions, among others. The comparison is valid here due to the transversal nature of
canoes, which used to permeate all aspects of life on the Northwest Coast, creating a canoeoriented culture. Consequently, both the methodology and methods of this research are deeply
canoe-oriented, reflecting the centrality of canoes in the region’s social, cultural, and historical
contexts.

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Positionality
My name is Alexandre Dantas e Sousa. I was born on September 26th, 1981, during the
last Brazilian military dictatorship, into a middle-class family in Brasilia, the capital of Brazil. I
am a non-Indigenous graduate student navigating a community-based participatory research
relationship with Indigenous partners in British Columbia, Canada, and Washington State, United
States of America. In my country, I may be read as a privileged white man, which I believe I do,
indeed, take benefit of and, somehow, exercise certain privileges, despite personal efforts to do
differently in the radically unequal, stratified, racialized, elitist, masculinized, western-oriented
society of Brazil. As a non-Anglophone immigrant in Canada, I find myself needing to understand
and navigate a distinct privilege system in which I am a participant, primarily as an international
student holding a temporary visa. This system presents an opportunity for me to align myself with
and become an ally to other groups, actively preserving and revitalizing their culture.
Being born and raised in the country’s capital, I have not interacted with Indigenous
populations. I was probably first exposed to the theme in elementary school, during celebrations
of Indigenous Peoples’ Day, which in Brazil is celebrated on April 19th. I believe my first marking
remembrance contact with Native peoples happened because I was the neighbour to Mario
Juruna—the first Indigenous person to be a parliamentary in the Brazilian Congress—in the
suburban neighbourhood where I lived throughout my infancy. Mr. Juruna was an important figure
and was probably the first to call my diffuse attention and interest in Native peoples. Later in my
life, after completing a Social Anthropology degree, I worked at the Department of Indigenous
Health of the Ministry of Health of Brazil in a program called Innovative Actions, which, through
dialogue with key figures of Indigenous societies, aimed at promoting initiatives to strengthen the
participation of Indigenous peoples on public health services and assistance, according to their

11

cosmologies and their own understandings on health, healing, ritual, efficacy, symbolism, and
more.
I share the experience of where I come from to position myself and what I can bring to this
research, taking into consideration that an interesting point is to focus not only on the research but
on the researcher’s embodiment and their own positionality (Kovach et al., 2013). Entering a
research relationship should include the researcher self-locating, showing respect for the place one
comes from, and also for the place one is entering. Thus, it is possible to say I come from a
confused and ambiguous place where identities are not fixed or clear. Being part of this society, I
am a Brazilian citizen. However, my deeper ancestrality has long been neglected and white-washed
throughout generations. My connection to my history, or my family’s history, is a blur rather than
a certainty. For now, I have left my country as a married man and father, a speaker of the national
language, who enters this research relationship as a Latin-American immigrant speaking English
as my third language.
Positioning myself in this research is also essential to understanding my interest in water
vessels: I am a sailor with a passion for the waters, tides, wind and, of course, sailboats, canoes
and pretty much any kind of vessel. Since childhood, sailing first with my father, then with friends,
family, my daughter, and students (I have instructed sailing) have been moments of sharing
experience and knowledge. When out in the water, one soon realizes that the relations one
establishes in a vessel are more of cooperation than competition, mutual assistance, sharing and
pleasure. This includes knowing the technical aspects of it and being able to intervene when
necessary. As a sailor, upon arriving in Canada, I started noticing that canoes can be seen
everywhere: at the Vancouver airport, in arts for tourists, in museums and, in Prince George and
at UNBC: the canoe sitting by the stairs of Prince George’s City Hall, the Lheidli T’enneh,-made

12

cottonwood dugout canoe at the University, the birchbark canoe that Professor Michel Bouchard
(UNBC professor) and Michel Labelle made, the remarkable canoe-shaped ceiling of the “student
street” at UNBC, a more than hundred-feet long wood, metal and glass structure.
When defining this research subject, the possibility of joining my passion with such an
important artifact for First Nations and their cultural resurgence and resistance movements in
Canada seemed appropriate, engaging, and relevant. The relevance of the canoe to First Nations
cultures was also recognized by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, which “declared that the
canoe was one of the Seven Wonders of Canada, identified through a nationwide media
competition using both official judges and public participation” (Erickson, 2013, p.9). Seeing and
learning about the importance of the canoe and the practice of canoeing, together with my own
passion, I chose to research canoe and canoeing as part of Indigenous resistance and cultural
revival movements. As I explore this theme, I bring forward the necessity transmitted to me to
avoid negativist approaches when doing research together with Indigenous partners, where
Indigenous peoples may be contemplated and represented as being vulnerable, and the stories that
are most shared about them are the ones of pain and humiliation (Tuck & Yang, 2014).
As an immigrant and international graduate student collaborating with Indigenous partners
in British Columbia, I approach this research with respect, humility, and a commitment to
meaningful engagement. Drawing from my experiences in Indigenous health and my passion for
water vessels, I aim to contribute to the discourse of Indigenous resurgence and resistance by
centring local First Nations’ protocols, amplifying their voices, and fostering mutual respect. This
research journey offers an opportunity to celebrate Coast Slish, Nuu-chah-nulth, and
Kwakwaka’wakw knowledge and wisdom, honouring the resilience and strength of Indigenous
communities in the process.

13

The visibility and reverence of canoes across various facets of Canadian life and culture
highlighted a unique opportunity for exploration and inquiry. As I embarked on this research
journey, two critical questions emerged, focusing on the interplay between tradition and
modernity, identity and resistance:
1.

By examining the material and social construction of the canoe and its utilization

within Coast Salish Sea First Nations knowledge systems, how do Canoe Journeys function as a
process of movements of Indigenous resistance and resurgence within Northwest Coast nations?
2.

How do the perspectives of paddlers and Indigenous knowledge holders

participating in the 2023 edition of Tribal Canoe Journeys contribute to the intergenerational
transmission and revitalization of Indigenous knowledge and enhance the understanding of places
and landscapes?
All the phases of this research journey, which involved documentation research, including
several videos, interviews, and actual travelling to take part in a TCJ and to meet a master carver,
offered me an opportunity to celebrate Indigenous knowledge and wisdom, honouring the
resilience and strength of Indigenous communities in the process. As one of my collaborators
shared, “The journeys have been a critical piece to cultural revitalization for our people. It’s once
more an engagement in the cultural revitalization of language, protocols, ancestral ways of travel,
and how we interact with each other. That is something you cannot replicate inside of a classroom.
It is a lived experience.” This deeply resonates with me and underscores the importance of this
work. Embarking on this research journey has been both an academic endeavour and a personal
discovery and understanding of the land where I now live, in the hope of being a partner toward
reconciliation, once again stating my land acknowledgement: I respectfully acknowledge the

14

unceded ancestral lands of the Lheidli T’enneh, part of the Dakelh (Carrier) First Nation, on whose
land I now live, work, play and raise my family.

15

Chapter one: Origins and Cultural Significance of Tribal Canoe Journeys
The origins of Tribal Journeys are diverse and subject to debate (Beattie, 2017; Hundley,
2022; Johansen, 2012; Marshall, 2011). One event widely recognized as its direct precursor is the
Paddle to Seattle in 1989, organized as part of the State of Washington’s centennial celebrations.
In July of that year, canoes, which have always held an important place for Indigenous Nations on
the northwest coast, set out from the Hoh and La Push tribal communities in Washington,
embarking on a voyage through the Salish Sea to Puget Sound. They were joined by canoes from
the Heiltsuk, Lummi, Tulalip, and Suquamish nations, and together, they travelled to Seattle,
where they presented a letter to the people of the State of Washington. This letter, endorsed by
representatives from twenty-one tribal communities across Washington State and British
Columbia, included the words of the esteemed Duwamish and Suquamish leader, Si’ahl (Seattle),
who called upon the residents and government of the State of Washington to fulfill their
responsibilities as caretakers of the earth (Daehnke, 2019; Krupat, 2011).
Among the Coast Salish First Nations on the Canadian side of the border, the origins of the
canoe journeys are attributed differently, tracing back to Expo ‘86 held in Vancouver, Canada,
1986. During this event, members of the Heiltsuk Nation constructed and navigated a traditional
dugout canoe known as “glwa”, “a glow” in Hailhzaqvl, the Heiltsuk language, from Bella Bella
(Waglisla) to Vancouver. The construction and journey of the “glwa” canoe held significant
importance for the Heiltsuk community, as it symbolized a cultural revival after more than a
century (Beattie, 2017). This event marked the beginning of a renewed connection with their
heritage and traditions for numerous members of the Heiltsuk Nation.
The transportation theme of Expo 86 served as inspiration for First Nations to reintroduce
the canoe’s cultural significance. The remarkable journey of the Heiltsuk dugout canoe, covering

16

nearly 400 nautical miles to attend the World Exposition, ignited a revived interest in ancestral
mobility among tribes and nations of the Northwest Coast. While there was no initial intention to
create a socio-political movement centred around the canoe, one emerged organically. Early
organizers and participants of TCJ, such as those from the LooTaas community on the Washington
State coast, recognized the potential of the canoe to address the acknowledged impact of the
international border on their lives and possibly alleviate divisionary constraints. They recognized
that TCJ could empower participants to reclaim their history and demand recognition in a region
divided by the border. TCJ provides a transnational and transborder platform for exploring and
reinforcing their ethnonational and regional identity. Through reconnecting with their First Nations
or Tribal heritage, TCJ fosters a deeper cultural understanding and connection (Hundley, 2022).
The Paddle to Bella Bella in 1993, known as Qatuwas, in the Heiltsuk language, signifying
“people gathered together in one place” (Daehnke, 2017, p. 68), adds another layer to the origins
of the Canoe Journeys. Following the Paddle to Seattle in 1989, Frank Brown, a member of the
Heiltsuk Nation, and his crew paddled from Waglisla again and issued a challenge to the Coast
Salish nations to join them in the paddle to Bella Bella in four years. This challenge, combined
with the success of the 1989 Centennial event, provoked a passion throughout the region. Many
new carvers began crafting canoes for the 1993 journey, and some Nations made their first canoe
explicitly for that event (Johansen, 2012).
In 1993, on the shores of Waglisla, a remarkable sight unfolded during the paddle to Bella
Bella. Twenty-three canoes from various Northwest Coast communities converged, significantly
increasing from the nine canoes that participated in the earlier Paddle to Seattle. The Makah
Nation, residing in the westernmost region of Washington State, played a pivotal role in this event.

17

Drawing upon their expertise in canoe carving, which they had preserved for whale
hunting, the Makah contributed to revitalizing these traditional practices. In a parallel revival, the
Makah reintroduced their ancestral whale hunt, utilizing oceangoing canoes after a 70-year hiatus.
Moreover, they re-established their original route by paddling to Bella Bella on the open sea, and
not taking the conventional path through the Juan de Fuca Strait and northward along the Georgia
Strait (Johansen, 2012).
The Qatuwas festival symbolized the rebirth of the Canoe Journey as an Indigenous led
recurring event, setting it apart from previous occurrences such as the 1986 World’s Fair and the
1989 Centennial Celebration, which were predominantly organized by non-Indigenous entities.
Instead, Qatuwas was conceived and executed entirely by Indigenous communities (Hundley,
2017). Initially, the organizers of Qatuwas planned for the event to occur every four years, with
the next journey scheduled for La Push on the Washington State Coast in 1997. However, between
1994 and 1996, there were youth paddles in Olympia, Washington, and around Puget Sound on
the United States side of the border. As interest in the Canoe Journey grew during this period, it
suggested that the event should be held annually (Hundley, 2019).
The Tribal Journeys’ settings intertwined with the concept of protocol, encompasses a set
of rules governing actions and ensuring appropriate conduct (Daehnke, 2017; Johansen, 2012).
One significant protocol observed during Tribal Journeys involves seeking permission to come
ashore. Upon reaching the shores of host communities, the canoes and their passengers must
request permission from the community before disembarking. While there is no standardized
procedure for this permission protocol, it typically involves several steps. Firstly, a representative
from the canoe family identifies themselves, followed by a declaration of peaceful arrival. The
canoe family then provides a report on the day’s journey, emphasizing the fatigue and hunger

18

experienced by the members. They express their desire to share songs and dances with the host
community and, finally, request permission to come ashore. A representative of the host
community then acknowledges and welcomes the canoe family before granting them permission
to disembark (Daehnke, 2017; Johansen, 2012).
Although the protocols observed during Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) are not tied to
potlatch ceremonies, they are frequently likened to them as they incorporate traditional regalia and
performances (Beattie, 2017). Before colonization, canoe families would recognize tribal
sovereignty by requesting permission to land on the territories of neighbouring communities
(Beattie, 2017). Therefore, a resurgence of the permission to come ashore is an act of
decolonization as it occurs explicitly beyond the confines of the colonial nation-state. It
emphasizes the profound significance of canoe culture and Indigenous territoriality, which strives
to operate outside the framework established by the colonial state (Daehnke, 2017).
Protocols are crucial for reasserting tribal nationhood and sovereignty within the landscape.
They bring about essential outcomes, including the renewal of Indigenous ceremonies, language,
and knowledge and the acknowledgement of Indigenous occupation of the land. Additionally,
these protocols contribute to restoring ancient highways that historically connected villages and
fostered connections among Indigenous peoples (Daehnke, 2017). These performing protocols
extend beyond a cultural aspect. They serve as a fundamental means of decolonization by
challenging and subverting the dominant narratives and structures imposed by colonization
(Daehnke, 2017). By engaging in and upholding these protocols, Indigenous communities reclaim
agency over their cultural practices, knowledge systems, and ways of being, asserting their
sovereignty and resilience in the face of historical and ongoing colonization. By enacting
protocols, Indigenous peoples actively resist and dismantle colonial power dynamics, fostering a

19

sense of cultural revitalization, empowerment, and self-determination. Moreover, these protocols
create spaces for the intergenerational transmission of Indigenous traditions, fostering a sense of
belonging, cultural continuity, and connection to ancestral lands. In this way, practicing protocols
becomes an essential mechanism for healing, reclaiming Indigenous identity, and promoting a
decolonized future (Daehnke, 2017; Donovan et al, 2015; Hirch & Korn, 2012; Johansen, 2012;
Johnson, et al., 2019).
As an example, for the Chinook people, protocols are inherently present, and it is the
responsibility of humans – as opposed to nonhuman entities – to recognize and adhere to them.
These protocols reflect a sense of human agency and accountability in upholding traditional
practices and values within the Chinook community. Additionally, protocols can be regarded as a
form of intangible heritage, serving as a conduit for facilitating meaningful interactions and
exchanges between humans as well as between humans and nonhumans (Daehnke, 2017). By
respecting and following these protocols, individuals demonstrate their commitment to upholding
traditional customs, fostering harmonious relationships with both human and nonhuman entities,
and maintaining a sense of cultural continuity and collective identity.
The protocols linked to the resurgence of Indigenous canoe practices are deeply rooted in
the past, yet they hold significant relevance in the present as they prioritize cultivating enduring
relationships and responsibilities. These protocols do not reflect a longing for the past or a mere
re-enactment but rather constitute a pivotal element in an ongoing process of healing and
decolonization (Daehnke, 2017). Moreover, it is noteworthy that the speakers often emphasize the
importance of these protocols by incorporating their heritage languages into their appeals,
underscoring the significance of linguistic and cultural revitalization (Beattie, 2017). By engaging
in these protocols, Indigenous communities affirm their identity, reclaim their ancestral

20

knowledge, and challenge the historical injustices imposed by colonization, thus contributing to
the broader movement of Indigenous resurgence and decolonization (Daehnke, 2017).
Usually, following disembarkment and the carrying of the canoe out of the water by its
paddlers and helpers from the host community, everyone is fed. Subsequently, the protocols of
Tribal Journeys extend into the evening. During this time, each community shares their songs and
dances with the other communities present, particularly with the hosts. The community that has
travelled the most significant distance from their home is typically given the first opportunity to
perform, creating a meaningful exchange of songs and dances that serves as an act of reciprocity
and a gesture of gratitude towards the host community for their provision of food and lodging to
the guests (Beattie, 2017; Daehnke, 2017).
This exchange of songs and dances, similar to the request for permission to come ashore,
can endure for several hours, extending late into the night and continuing for five or more days.
The protocol concludes with the dances and songs of the host community, who follow the potlatch
traditions by presenting additional gifts to their visitors (Daehnke, 2017). It is essential to
emphasize that these protocols are not confined solely to the final landing and the ultimate host
community; they are deeply ingrained in the customs, mandatory, and are observed each time a
canoe arrives at any of the homelands of tribal communities during their multi-day voyage
(Daehnke, 2017).
The Tribal Canoe Journey is not a competition or a race but rather a profound
demonstration of physical exertion. It is a meaningful social gathering that fosters connections and
interaction among communities and individuals within the same community (Johansen, 2012).
One significant and integral component of TCJ gatherings is storytelling, which occurs throughout
the journey and at the destination. Through sharing stories, songs, and dances, participants actively

21

preserve and transmit cultural heritage, educating Indigenous youth about their rich heritage and
fostering cultural identity (Beattie, 2017).
Canoe culture also fosters intergenerational connections, with Elders often delighted to
pass on the knowledge they feared would otherwise be lost. This knowledge transfer becomes
especially significant for the younger generation, who gain a deeper understanding of their cultural
heritage and develop crucial skills in teamwork and sobriety while participating in canoe journeys
that represent their community (Johansen, 2012). Experts assert that transferring cultural
knowledge from Elders to the youth is a critical component of Indigenous cultural revitalization
(Beattie, 2017; Daehnke, 2019; Hundley, 2022; Johansen, 2012). Over countless generations,
many Indigenous Elders have accumulated extensive cultural knowledge, carrying it forward from
one generation to the next, thereby preserving and upholding their rich traditions Through the
canoe journeys, these intergenerational connections are fortified, ensuring the continuity of
Indigenous knowledge and fostering a sense of cultural pride and identity among the community’s
younger members (Beattie, 2017).
Another component of Tribal Journeys and the revival of canoe culture is their impact on
healing within communities, particularly in addressing substance and alcohol abuse among both
adults and youth (Daehnke, 2017). To combat these issues, paddlers commit to staying substancefree and sober during the canoe journeys. An interesting case, the Suquamish Tribe of Port
Madison, Washington, has effectively incorporated Tribal Canoe Journeys into their “The Healing
of the Canoe” treatment model, which was thoughtfully adapted to include alcohol and substance
abuse programs developed in collaboration with medical professionals from the University of
Washington (Johansen, 2012). This approach not only fosters personal well-being and recovery
but also strengthens the connection between cultural practices and healing, underscoring the

22

crucial role that canoe journeys play in promoting holistic healing and addressing substance abuse
within Indigenous communities.
The effectiveness of the Tribal Journeys program in addressing substance abuse among
Indigenous communities largely stems from its intervention strategy, which is deeply rooted in
tribal values and community engagement. As Daehnke (2017) observes:
Involvement in canoe culture, however, has had a dramatic and positive impact, as
numerous participants have returned from journeys clean and sober, leaving drugs and
alcohol behind for good. The positive impact that Tribal Journeys and canoe resurgence
has had in this area is not just a fortunate, yet unexpected, side effect. The leaders who
were involved with canoe resurgence at the very beginning expected that the revitalization
of canoe culture and following the protocols attached to it would provide a positive and
tribally specific avenue to address problems associated with drug and alcohol abuse,
especially among young people, and it was a primary reason for pushing for increased
involvement with canoes. (p. 71)
Accordingly, past efforts to address drug and alcohol abuse among Indigenous people often
fell short because they did not always account for the specific cultural contexts of each community
(Daehnke, 2017). To counter this, some Indigenous youth programs now use the Canoe Journey
as a teaching tool to help them navigate life’s challenges while avoiding substance abuse. These
programs blend cultural values and traditions with evidence-based practices and positive youth
development, culminating in an Honoring Ceremony that recognizes each participant’s unique
abilities and accomplishments (Donovan et al., 2015). By integrating cultural teachings and
instilling pride in Indigenous heritage, the Canoe Journey curriculum provides a meaningful

23

framework for fostering holistic well-being and resilience among Indigenous youth, significantly
contributing to the prevention of substance abuse within their communities.

24

The Coast Salish: people, lands and waters
The Coast Salish people are a group of Salish-speaking, ethnically connected Indigenous
people living on the Pacific Northwest Coast from the mouth of the Columbia River in Oregon to
the Bute Inlet in British Columbia. Archaeological evidence indicates that Coast Salish regions
have been inhabited since 9000 BC, and today, there are an estimated 56,000 Coast Salish peoples
living in the US and Canada. Formally, they were (and still are) groups of hunter-gatherer-fishers
who have a rich and complex society, residing in the Northwest Coast region of southwestern
British Columbia and northwestern Washington state3 (Angelbeck, 2016). Their ancestral lands
are predominantly situated around the Salish Sea, although a few nations, including those on the
western coast of the Olympic Peninsula, are also encompassed within this territory (Hundley,
2019). Notably, Bella Coola, the northernmost Coast Salish nation, has a unique territorial
arrangement, for it is not contiguous with the rest of the Salish groups’ territory, which can also
contribute to political and ethnic distinctions, adding to the complexity and richness of their
cultural heritage and providing a unique context for their traditions and practices.
The term “Coast Salish” carries a complex history and is not a term employed by the Salish
people themselves (Miller, 2011). It was initially introduced by colonial figures, including
anthropologists and linguists, who sought to study and document the diverse cultures and
languages of the communities residing in the regions surrounding the Salish Sea (Hundley, 2019).
The term emerged to categorize and understand the distinct Indigenous groups inhabiting the area.
However, it is crucial to recognize that the usage of “Coast Salish” is a product of external
observation and classification rather than an Indigenous self-designation. By understanding the

3

Some of the Coast Salish nations include: Cowichan, Musqueam, Squamish, Stó:lō, Tsawwassen, Tsleil-Waututh.

25

origins and context of this term, I can approach the understanding about these Indigenous
communities with greater sensitivity and respect for their self-identifications, which is the
endonym Séliš, the name of a nation situated in current Montana state, that happened to be the
easternmost subgroup within the broader Salish linguistic family and, due to vicissitudes of
colonial times, ended up being used to designate the whole family of languages. Thus, the name
“Salish” became a unifying term to represent various Indigenous subgroups sharing Salishan
linguistic and cultural ties, despite their geographical diversity within the Salish-speaking
communities (Miller, 2011).
The Elliott Treaty, also known as the Treaty of Point Elliott, was a significant event in the
history of the Indigenous nations of the Puget Sound region, marking a pivotal moment in their
relationship with the United States government. Signed on January 22, 1855, the treaty involved
several Coast Salish tribes, including the Duwamish, Suquamish, Snoqualmie, and others, who
were the original stewards of the land, water, and resources in the Puget Sound area. These
Indigenous nations were the protagonists in the complex negotiations, seeking to preserve their
sovereignty, cultural practices, and connection to their ancestral lands while navigating the
pressures and demands of an expanding settler population. The treaty resulted in the cession of
vast territories to the United States in exchange for reserved lands, fishing rights, and other
promises. However, the terms of the treaty and the subsequent actions taken by the U.S.
government often led to significant challenges for these nations, including displacement and the
erosion of traditional ways of life, as in the case of the “fish wars”, a series of civil disobedience
protests for the United States government to recognize Indigenous rights to fish. Despite these
challenges, the Indigenous peoples of Puget Sound have continued to assert their rights and

26

maintain their cultural heritage, demonstrating resilience and leadership in the ongoing struggle
for recognition and justice (Wilkinson, 2006).
Differently from Indigenous nations in the United States, First Nations in British Columbia
generally did not cede their territory through treaties, although there were exceptions. British
Governor James Douglas negotiated fourteen treaties with select Coast Salish nations on southern
Vancouver Island, highlighting the unique situation in British Columbia, known as the “British
Columbia anomaly” (Hundley, 2019). This historical context sheds light on the complex
relationship between Indigenous peoples and the Canadian government in British Columbia.
The coastal groups were highly structured societies having clearly evident and permanent
positions of political leadership. The interior groups were typically composed of small
communities having little need for specialized politics. The general social and political
differences between the coastal groups and the interior groups were thus fundamental, and
many of the differences remain evident today. (Tennant, 1990, p 6)
The Coast Salish people used the region’s abundant resources, such as clam beds, salmonfilled rivers, migratory birds, and cedar trees. These resources held immense cultural significance
and served various purposes, occupying a central place in Coast Salish culture (Angelbeck, 2016).
According to Thom (2005), the Coast Salish people actively engaged in spirit dancing and oral
strength from the non-human beings that coexist with them on their land. Their connection to the
land goes beyond the practical utilization of resources. It encompasses profound emotional bonds
with their ancestral lands, shaping their social structure and way of life. The ancestral lands consist
of diverse spaces, ranging from small and specific locations like boulders or bathing pools to larger
areas such as mountainsides and territories. Each place carries significant cultural and personal
meaning, pivotal in shaping individual and communal identities (Thom, 2005). This illustrates the

27

link between their sovereignty and the autonomy paddlers had, and still have, to move across
territories, beyond colonial boundaries4.
The intertwining of oral narratives of origin, spiritual forces, ancestors, and the physical
environment lies at the core of Coast Salish life. Their communities serve as focal points for their
beliefs and practices. These deeply rooted notions of place are intricately connected with the
concepts of property and territoriality, forming the foundation of traditional Coast Salish
economies and inter-community interactions (Thom, 2005). It is essential to recognize that the
Coast Salish people’s system of symbols encompasses the land as an integral component.
Consequently, culture and terrain cannot be analyzed as separate entities, and their examination
should not be treated in isolation (Thom, 2005).
Coast Salish individuals who identify themselves as such exhibit remarkable diversity in
terms of language (such as Halkomelem, Lushootseed, and Nuu-chah-nulth), geography, and
culture. Scholars such as Suttles & Maud (1987), Thom (2005), and Kennedy (2007) propose a
perspective that perceives this diversity as a spectrum of cultural differentiation (Hundley, 2019).
This viewpoint recognizes the existence of a social continuum within the Coast Salish region,
fostered by intermarriage and cooperative economic and ceremonial activities among
neighbouring tribes, regardless of their specific languages. contemporary times, highlighting the
interconnectedness and shared history among the various Coast Salish communities and
underscoring the importance of their cultural traditions and relationships (Hundley, 2019). By
understanding the spectrum of cultural differentiation within the Coast Salish people, researchers
can gain a deeper appreciation for the complexity and richness of their diverse identities.

4

Chapter 5 is dedicated to analyzing and discussing each interview through thematic analysis. Therefore, I will address
the points raised by collaborators regarding this literature overview in that specific section.

28

Practices using ethnonyms, referencing locations, and sharing powerful life narratives and
oral stories are vital in affirming and strengthening personal and cultural identities. The Coast
Salish people have maintained long-established social and economic connections despite being
politically and geographically divided. For instance, there are currently twenty-four federally
recognized tribes in Washington State that are part of the Coast Salish group. In contrast, others
may be socially and economically intertwined with the group but lack federal recognition
(Hundley, 2019).
Property ownership is intricately linked to specific descent groups within the Coast Salish
communities, granting them access rights to particular resource sites, while residential groups
manage other resource areas (Thom, 2005). This allocation of property rights and responsibilities
reflects the Coast Salish communities’ social organization and governance systems, showing the
interplay between kinship ties, territorial connections, and resource management practices. The
potlatch tradition further unifies the Coast Salish communities, providing them a distinct identity
through ceremonial activities, gift exchanges, and shared cultural practices reinforcing their
collective identity and sense of belonging (Angelbeck, 2016).
Coast Salish social organization has resisted centralization efforts, with a socio-political
structure that is decentralized yet complex (Angelbeck, 2016). Councils, although not formal
institutions, are used for decision-making and consensus-building across various levels, from
households to regional assemblies (Angelbeck, 2016; Bierwert, 1999; Miller, 2011). Individual
groups function autonomously but form coalitions and networks to address conflicts effectively.
Coast Salish women are crucial in maintaining family ties and economic independence,
demonstrating adaptability and resilience through their mobility as mariners and traders (Peck,
2022).

29

On the Canadian side of the border, through its provisions, the Indian Act (1876)
established a framework that severely limited Indigenous individuals’ mobility and freedom.
Under this legislation, leaving one’s designated residence area necessitated obtaining permission
from an Indian Agent. This requirement restricted the autonomy and agency, subjecting
Indigenous people to a system of control and surveillance. By enforcing such constraints, the Act’s
imposition of permission-based mobility regulations profoundly impacted the lives and rights of
Indigenous individuals, hindering their ability to move freely, explore opportunities, and maintain
connections with their cultural and ancestral lands. Today, the Indian Act doesn’t restrict the free
circulation of individuals like when it was first established in 1876. However, crossing the United
States – Canada border is limited to immigration policies. Although there are notable cultural and
political similarities, the experiences of Indigenous peoples in Canada are not identical to those of
Native Americans in the United States. On the United States side of the border,
With some exceptions, the colonial forces attacking Native peoples in Canada have not
been military, but rather, have been institutional, through economic, religious, educational,
legislative, and media systems. Not surprisingly, the colonial relationship between White
and Native peoples is profoundly institutionalized and has grown more so with time. One
of the indices of such systemic control is the extent to which Native peoples have been
defined outside themselves, and, when they seek to change this definition, meet opposition
in many forms. (LaRocque, 2011, p.68)
The Indian Act, while no longer restricting physical mobility, continues to impose
significant constraints on Indigenous self-determination, particularly in matters of land claims and
governance as the colonial framework of land dispossession remains a central issue in the struggle
for Indigenous autonomy (Coulthard, 2014). The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC)

30

has further highlighted that true reconciliation requires addressing these ongoing structures of
colonial control, as meaningful self-determination must be exercised on Indigenous terms, free
from state-imposed definitions of sovereignty (Coulthard, 2014).
Providing this historical overview from the literature is essential to give us the necessary
grounding to understand the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) and the crafting of canoes as acts of
resistance and maintenance of their history in the face of colonial intrusion. The revival and
resurgence of these practices are apparent in the making of canoes, the gathering of communities,
and the navigation of waterways. The landing and sharing of protocols, meals, dances, and stories
inform the current TCJ, demonstrating how they are lived and organized across the northwestern
Pacific.
By exploring these cultural practices and social structures, this research may contribute to
understanding the TCJ and its role in cultural revitalization and resistance, recognizing the inherent
limitations of ethnographic studies as snapshots in time, often reflecting colonial perspectives.
Thus, while not the stated purpose of this study, it may challenge preconceived notions and offer
a nuanced understanding of the ongoing presence and adaptation of these practices and
organizational frameworks in Indigenous communities’ present-day lived experiences and cultural
resilience.

31

The Canoes
While canoe-type boats have existed all over the world, this research focuses solely on the
canoe or boat that originated in the Americas. The significance of the “canoe” as a global
phenomenon lies in its ability to facilitate navigation and foster connections across diverse
communities. While its importance is deeply rooted in Indigenous cultures across Canada and the
Americas, the importance and appreciation for canoeing extend beyond these populations. The
experience of canoeing transcends boundaries, drawing people from various backgrounds who
share a common passion for this traditional watercraft. It may serve as a unifying force, connecting
individuals to the natural world, fostering cultural exchange, and fostering a sense of collective
appreciation for the rich history and artistry of canoeing. The canoe’s enduring and inclusive
appeal highlights its relevance as an emblem of movement, connection, and shared human
experiences with each other, with nature and with other communities.
The term “canoe,” derived from the Arawak word “canoa,” meaning boat, was first
recorded by Christopher Columbus during his initial voyage to the Caribbean. It is important to
distinguish canoes from rafts, constructed by assembling tree trunks for floating purposes. Initially,
canoes were primarily used for dugout canoes, but over time, the English language adopted the
term “canoe” to encompass all canoes, regardless of the materials used (Roberts & Shackleton,
1983). Customarily, canoes in Canada have been – and continue to be – crafted from logs, barks,
and animal skins, with each Indigenous group employing their unique materials and techniques.
The success of the canoe can be attributed not only to its navigability on North American waters
but also to its portability for traversing rapids and trails and even serving as a shelter (Raffan,
2000).

32

An all-encompassing definition must be a general one: a canoe is an open watercraft of
hollow form, generally shaped at each end to improve its hydrodynamic qualities, and
designed originally to be propelled by one or more occupants, facing forward and using
paddles or push-poles. Three basic classes- the dugout, the bark craft, and the skin boatwere widely used in aboriginal North America. (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983, p. 2)
The canoe has served as a vital tool utilized by various Indigenous peoples and cultural
traditions across what is now recognized as Canada (Erickson, 2008, 2013 & 2015; Johansen,
2012). Initially perceived as obsolete and on the verge of disappearing during the late nineteenth
and early twentieth centuries, it has emerged as a prominent national symbol. Furthermore, the
canoe has also been appropriated within the narrative of historical settler discourse, where EuroCanadians have perceived paddling on rivers, particularly along routes believed to mirror settler
perspectives of the fur trade or western expansion, as representative of the “discovery” and
foundational origins of Canada (Erickson, 2008,2013 & 2015; Ritts et al., 2018). As Erickson
(2015) states:
In the celebration of heritage on the French River, we can see the creation of the origin of
the nation in the features of the river itself. By privileging the experience of these features
as a way of connecting with history, this narrative tends towards creating heritage through
geography only. (p.322)
Regarding canoes, they hold great significance in Coast Salish territory, serving as a means
of resistance and countering colonial legacies (Hundley, 2022). They display diverse styles and
names across the Northwest Coast, but their essential role in daily life remains constant. For
example, ocean-going canoes used in present-day Tribal Journeys could span up to 40 feet and
accommodate around 25 pullers.

33

Smaller shovelnose canoes were designed to navigate the region’s smaller streams.
Throughout history, transportation has been a primary function of canoes. In the mid-nineteenth
century, canoes were hired for transporting settlers and goods. However, their prominence
diminished with the arrival of steamboats, which eventually faced a similar fate due to the
introduction of railroads.
The canoe’s significance is evident when examining the cosmologies and mythologies of
the Salish, as Levi-Strauss (1971) describes:
It follows from this whole body of remarks that the Salish canoe, carrying divinities, the
foremost of whom are the sun and the moon, belongs, as any theme, to a horizontal axis
which links the near and the far, and is convertible, as in the myths of tropical America,
into a vertical axis linking the earth and the sky. (p. 454)
Scholars have significantly contributed to understanding the cultural significance and
diverse implications of the canoe in shaping identities and promoting connections, establishing the
canoe as a subject worthy of academic inquiry (Beattie, 2017; Big-Canoe & Richmond, 2014;
Daehnke, 2019; Donovan et al., 2015; Erickson, 2008; Frandy & Cederström, 2017; Hirch & Korn,
2012; Hundley, 2022; Johansen, 2012, 2019; Johnson et al., 2019; Lévi-Strauss, 2011; Marshall,
2011; Mikraszewicz & Richmond, 2019; Nahanee et al., 2021; Raffan, 2000; Ritts et al., 2018;
Ward et al., 2020).
Beattie (2017) investigates how Tribal Canoe Journeys on the Northwest Pacific Coast led
to Indigenous resurgence. This study identifies five key impacts: reconnecting with nature,
supporting personal healing and growth, establishing intergenerational and inter-national
relationships, enabling cultural resurgence, and potentially driving political actions. The work
emphasizes the importance of visioning, intergenerational knowledge transmission, language

34

revitalization, land-based practices, Indigenous legal traditions, and reestablishing inter-national
relationships. According to this approach, Tribal Canoe Journeys significantly contribute to the
resurgence and revitalization of Indigenous traditions and communities. On the other hand,
Johansen’s (2012) work focuses on the revival of canoe culture among Native nations along the
western coast of British Columbia and Washington State. For this author, canoes symbolize
resilience, identity, and a link to ancestral traditions (Johansen, 2012). The revival of canoe
journeys and the construction of canoes serve as catalysts for cultural revitalization, healing, and
intergenerational knowledge transmission. These practices foster social bonds, combat substance
abuse, and reinforce protocols and traditions within Indigenous communities.
Daehnke (2019) examines the revitalization of canoe culture and the significance of
protocols during Tribal Journeys as acts of decolonization. Protocols, rooted in a decolonized
vision of heritage, foster Indigenous resilience and contribute to the healing of tribal communities.
Asserting tribal sovereignty, renewing ceremonies and knowledge, and combating
substance abuse are central to reclaiming Indigenous identity and challenging colonial impositions.
Highlighting the political dimension, Hundley (2022) explores the Canoe Journey as a powerful
tool and symbol of unity for Indigenous communities, particularly the Coast Salish. Canoe
Journeys revitalizes cultural practices, challenges settler colonialism, including the international
border, and asserts Indigenous presence. Hundley underscores the importance of engaging with
Indigenous epistemologies and historiographies to comprehensively analyze border impacts,
advocating for a more inclusive understanding.
These scholars collectively illuminate the multifaceted nature of the canoe, encompassing
its political significance, decolonization efforts, cultural revitalization, healing, and knowledge
transmission. For example, Beattie (2017) highlights the canoe’s role in cultural revitalization

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through traditional practices, while Donovan et al. (2015) discusses its use in healing and substance
abuse programs. Johansen (2012, 2019) examines the canoe’s significance in decolonization
efforts, and Big-Canoe & Richmond (2014) explore its importance in knowledge transmission
within Indigenous communities. Their research enhances our understanding of the transformative
power of the canoe and its profound role in fostering connections, resilience, and the resurgence
of Indigenous communities.
According to James Raffan (2000), the creation of a canoe involves the natural process of
bending two structures, and a fundamental principle for achieving optimal canoe efficiency is to
respect the limitations of the natural materials from the environment in which it is constructed.
Raffan states that by working within the natural bends allowed by the materials, functional canoe
can be consistently produced (Raffan, 2000). This consideration, at first, seems to be directed to
the birch-and-bark type of canoes, but since dugout canoes also count with a “widening” step on
the course of its production, essential to the conforming of its final shape and navigability, this
principle applies to dugouts too. Regarding dugouts, after a hole has been dug with the help of fire,
instead of bending, the material—wood—must be stretched to be widened. Such a procedure
consists of either filling the hole with water and then adding hot stones to it or flipping the canoe
downwards close to the fire and its smoke.
Most canoes, such as the birchbark, dugout, and the Beothuk canoe, among others, are
usually fashioned using locally sourced materials, which limited the vessel’s shape, size, and
thickness. Canoes were also skillfully adapted to suit different environments, with larger designs
for navigating the open sea (as the Haida canoes) and lighter constructions for easier portages (as
the Anishinaabe birchbark canoes). Interestingly, specific characteristics of these canoes have
endured in the design and form of modern industrial canoes.

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The versatility of canoes is intricately tied to the natural materials used in their
construction, embodying the essence of the landscape and the intellectual traditions (Raffan, 2000).
Indigenous peoples have spent millennia experimenting with and refining a wide range of
watercraft tailored to their needs and available resources. Recognizing the value of canoes for
exploration and the fur trade, the fur traders and voyageurs have embraced them and adapted
designs to navigate the country’s diverse regions, facing challenges such as rapids along the way
(Raffan, 2000). Consequently, this process of innovation and adaptation gave rise to a remarkable
array of watercraft, reflecting a “bewildering diversity” of canoes (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983, p.
2). Historically, canoes possessed a uniquely ecological nature; and in the event of breakage, they
could be repaired using materials readily found in the surrounding environment, symbolizing the
profound connection between people, land, and water, especially in regions where rivers merge
with the ocean (Raffan, 2000).
Much like the abundance of natural materials that once shaped the diversity of canoe
designs across Indigenous territories, North America’s Northwest Coast was once rich in red cedar,
a resource that played a crucial role in the construction of traditional canoes. However, red cedar
has become scarce, reflecting broader environmental changes that impact cultural practices and
the relationship between people and the landscape.
Among the gifts of the coastal environment is the giant red cedar tree (Thuya Plicata). From
this cedar, the coastal peoples made the world’s largest dug-out canoes and also large plank
houses. Canoes allowed full use of the coastal environment; otherwise, the sea and
coastline could not have been harvested, and areas inaccessible by land could not have been
settled. It was the canoes which allowed the exploitation of areas extensive enough to
provision sedentary winter villages with populations of several thousand. […] The cedar

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houses enabled a large number of people, usually family groups, to live under one roof,
and many people could thus live compactly together in the winter villages. […] Had the
cedar tree not existed, the coastal peoples could not have created their complex and
sophisticated civilizations. (Tennant, 1990, p.7)
In contemporary times, the canoe continues to serve as both a cultural symbol and a
practical tool for many Indigenous communities, while also being embraced in modern recreational
activities. Efforts to revitalize canoe-making and paddling traditions are seen as part of broader
movements for cultural resurgence and environmental stewardship, reflecting the enduring
relationship between Indigenous peoples, their territories, and waterways.
The process of canoe and paddle-making and the act of paddling have emerged as powerful
symbols within Indigenous resurgence movements and resistance efforts aimed at reclaiming
sovereignty. Numerous Indigenous-led initiatives worldwide are actively re-establishing the
coastal canoe as a vessel embodying sovereignty and the responsible stewardship of territorial
lands (Ritts, et al., 2018). In Canada, Indigenous communities have witnessed a remarkable
resurgence in canoe journeys over the past four decades. Although canoes have never completely
disappeared, these contemporary journeys serve as a powerful cultural revival, representing a
yearning to reconnect with ancestral territories and values by blending traditional practices with
modern culture and technology. Canoe journeys, both in Canada and the USA, also play a crucial
role in language and cultural revitalization efforts, serving as vehicles for transmitting teachings
and traditions (Mikraszewicz & Richmond, 2019). This revitalization is vividly reflected in the
reformation of canoe families and the organization of various inter-national Canoe Journeys,
fostering intergenerational learning and meaningful relationships between youth, Elders, and

38

knowledge holders. Notably, the Tribal Canoe Journeys is a prominent example, showcasing the
profound impact of intergenerational learning on Indigenous communities (Nahanee, et al., 2021).
Moreover, the craft of canoe-making entails a profound connection and intimacy with the
resulting vessel, which is distinct to the modern/industrial production processes, and necessitates
an understanding of materials and a close relationship with the natural environment.
Passamaquoddy birchbark canoe builder David Moses, cited by Frandy & Cederström (2017) aptly
captures this sentiment, stating,
I’ve known the canoe since it was still on the tree. I know the roots from the time they were
in the ground. All the cedar that’s in here. Felled all that, split it in the forest, carried it out
on my shoulder... After you’ve gone through all that, you have a real intimate connection
with the boat.... This isn’t a fiberglass boat that you can buy all the parts for and lay it up
in a couple of days. You’ve got to know the forest. You have to know the trees, and then
you have to know the boat. (p.227)
These words highlight the depth of knowledge and experiential connection required to
engage in canoe-making, contrasting it with the assembly-line production of modern boats. This
insight emphasizes the unique significance of the craft, rooted in a profound understanding of the
natural world and a personal investment in the entire process, from selecting the tree to the final
construction of the canoe.
In Coast Salish culture, the significance of canoes extends beyond their physical
construction. While humans contribute their craftsmanship to shape the final form of the canoe, its
existence and life predate their involvement. Many canoe makers receive their skills through
visions, in which trees communicate with them, highlighting the spiritual connection between
canoes and the natural world. For these canoe-makers, canoes are not merely inanimate objects;

39

they are perceived as spiritual beings with souls, some of which may have a history spanning over
a thousand years (Johansen, 2012). Extending to the present day, canoes are recognized as beings
with agency and emotions. They can experience happiness, disappointment, and pain, emphasizing
their animate qualities. Despite the independent existence of canoes and humans, a profound
interdependence exists between them. A sense of kinship and reciprocal responsibilities bind their
lives together, as both entities rely on each other to navigate the world meaningfully and
appropriately (Daehnke, 2017). This understanding of canoes as living beings with spiritual
significance and their entangled relationship with humans underscore the deep cultural and
spiritual connections that Coast Salish people have with their environment (Barnett, 1955). It
highlights their profound respect and reverence for the natural world, recognizing the
interconnectedness of all living beings and their mutual reliance on one another (Daehnke, 2017;
Johansen, 2012).
The process of canoe-making among the Coast Salish people was and is influenced by
factors such as available materials, local environmental conditions, and distinct cultural traditions.
Unlike some northern groups, the Salish primarily used half-cedar logs to construct their canoes
(Barnett, 1955). This technique difference may have arisen from variations in resource availability
and cultural practices. The entire process of preparing the canoe hull, including splitting, shaping,
and excavation, took place at the location where the tree was felled. Specialized canoe makers
often took advantage of favourable weather and fresh wood during the summer for efficient
progress (Barnett, 1955). According to Barnett (1995), working in seclusion in the forest served
multiple purposes beyond practical considerations, as it allowed individuals to receive mystical
assistance and guidance through significant process phases. The canoe maker’s respectful
treatment of the tree, considering it a living entity, was crucial, and so was the use of unique songs

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during various stages of construction carried spiritual significance, and omitting them could result
in irreparable damage to the canoe. As this author explains, dreams also played a significant role,
with specific symbols associated with ensuring success in canoe-building and decoration. Canoemaking knowledge was closely guarded and passed down within families, leading to specialization
within specific family lines (Barnett, 1955).
The actual construction process involved splitting the chosen tree, contouring the exterior
of the half-log, and drilling small holes for references during excavation. No specific patterns or
guidelines were necessarily followed, relying on tradition and the craftsman’s skill. Techniques
like steaming, oil or fish egg and charcoal application, and mats for wood protection were
employed. Crosspieces served as seats in larger canoes, while paddlers typically knelt on mat pads.
The canoe’s interior was coated with black paint, and a red strip was added around the inner rim.
The Salish canoes were crafted from a single piece, without separate bow and stern structures.
Different variations existed within specific geographic regions, with additional types of canoes
and paddle materials used for men and women (Barnett, 1955).
In conclusion, Tribal Canoe Journeys and the canoes themselves hold cultural and
historical significance for the Coast Salish and other linguistic families of Indigenous communities
of America’s Northwest Coast. These journeys embody the revival of traditional practices and
serve as a powerful means of reconnecting with ancestral lands and waters. The protocols
surrounding canoe journeys are deeply rooted in respect, reciprocity, and acknowledging
Indigenous sovereignty. Coast Salish communities have a rich tradition of canoe-making, with
specific techniques and practices that reflect their unique cultural and environmental contexts. By
preserving and revitalizing these traditions, the Coast Salish people continue strengthening their
cultural heritage and fostering a deep connection to their ancestral roots.

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Different types of canoes of the Northwest Coast.
Along the Northwest Coast, stretching from present-day northern California to Alaska,
Indigenous communities have crafted and employed various types of canoes tailored to their
environmental conditions and cultural traditions. Diverse in their construction, materials, and
functions, these canoes embody the connection between Indigenous peoples and their waterways
(Barnett, 1955; Bates, Hess, & Hilbert, 1994; Bierwert, 1999; Daehnke, 2017; Horsfield &
Kennedy, 2014; Hundley, 2022; Johansen, 2012; Marshall, 2011; Miller, 1999; Miller, 2011;
Osler, 2014; Raffan, 2000; Roberts & Shackleton, 1983; Suttles & Maud, 1987; Thom, 2005;
Waterman & Coffin, 1920).
The Pacific Northwest’s dynamic maritime landscapes—encompassing the vast open
ocean, sheltered coastal inlets, winding rivers, and tranquil lakes—have given rise to distinct canoe
designs. Some canoes were engineered for long-distance voyages and navigating the open sea,
while others were optimized for river travel, fishing, warfare or ceremonial use. Among these,
dugout canoes were particularly diverse, with their design, size, and structure varying depending
on their intended purpose and the conditions in which they were used. Coastal dugouts were often
larger and more buoyant, designed to withstand rough waters, whereas riverine canoes were
smaller, flatter, and more maneuverable, suited for swift currents and shallow waters. This
diversity in canoe design highlights the craftsmanship of Indigenous peoples and underscores the
vital role canoes have played in facilitating trade, enabling transportation, and preserving cultural
heritage across countless generations.
This diversity in canoe design is illustrated by the specialized ones created by specific
Indigenous nations. For instance, the war canoe—a vessel that largely vanished after European
contact—stood out for its specialized role in combat and protection. Characterized by a broad,

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upward-curving gunwale that formed a protective shield, it allowed warriors to remain concealed
while firing arrows through precisely carved openings along the sides (Roberts & Shackleton,
1983). A notable historical event highlighting the strategic use of these canoes is the mid-19thcentury Battle at Maple Bay, in which an alliance of Coast Salish groups engaged in a maritime
battle against the Kwakwaka’wakw Lekwiltok (Barnett, 1955; Roberts & Shackleton, 1983;
Suttles & Maud, 1987; Angelbeck & McLay, 2011).
In contrast, the Bella Coola (Nuxalk) developed long, stable, spoon-shaped canoes tailored
for navigating riverine environments, sturdy and suited to fast-moving currents and rapids, capable
of transporting heavy loads, such as fish harvested during seasonal runs (Roberts & Shackleton,
1983). Meanwhile, the Salish canoe, renowned for its sleek, graceful design, was primarily used
for inland waters and nearshore travel. Unlike ocean-going canoes, it sat low in the water, making
it less suited for open-sea conditions. Its V-shaped bow and stern tapered into an elegant, elongated
prow, curving downward toward the waterline with a nearly vertical cutwater (Barnett, 1955;
Bates, Hess, & Hilbert, 1994; Roberts & Shackleton, 1983; Waterman & Coffin, 1920)
The diversity of canoe designs along the Northwest Coast reflects Indigenous nations’
adaptability to their environments. Unlike the birchbark canoes used inland, Northwest Coast
canoes were carved from single logs (preferably Red Cedar), making them highly durable and
specialized for open waters, rivers, and coastal travel (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983). These designs
varied by function, from the sleek Salish canoes suited for nearshore navigation to the large Nuuchah-nulth ocean-going canoes used for whaling and trade (Raffan, 2000; Roberts & Shackleton,
1983). Their construction required deep environmental knowledge, reinforcing canoes’ cultural,
economic, and ceremonial significance throughout the region.

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According to the scholars Bates, Hess, and Hilbert, who studied canoes in the Puget Sound,
while upriver communities primarily relied on the shovelnose canoe, ideal for sheltered freshwater
travel, downriver and saltwater communities developed a far greater range of canoe types suited
to open water, tidal currents, and ocean navigation:
…downriver and saltwater communities had the full variety of crafts, separate paddle styles
for men or women, and a thorough knowledge of the winds and tides to allow them to
travel under sail or tidal pull with less effort. (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983, p.108)
Among the Coast Salish, whose territories stretch over rivers, estuaries, and protected
inland waters, canoes were primarily crafted for stability and maneuverability rather than deep-sea
travel. The profound role of canoes in Coast Salish cultures is further evidenced by the
Lushootseed language, which contains multiple terms distinguishing various types of canoes,
including two generic terms—saxuluʔ, “for water travel,” and q’ilbid, referring to canoes but now
extended to modern vehicles (Bates, Hess, & Hilbert, 1994). Additionally
The morpheme […] has an interesting range of meanings including ‘vehicle, waterway,
narrow passage, throat, body trunk, curved side’ further confirming that a canoe was a
living body (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983, p. 107).
Among Lushootseed-speaking nations, canoe design reflected functionality and cultural
significance, as Miller (1999) explains, because of how they conceptualize physical and spiritual
movement through water travel, with canoes serving as vessels for both practical mobility and
shamanic journeys. Four primary canoe types—river shovelnose, hunting, freight, and racing
canoes—were developed locally, while northern and Nootkan-style canoes were introduced
through intertribal trade (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983). Each design served a distinct purpose.
With its flat-ended, shovel-like shape, the river canoe allowed paddlers to stand while spearfishing,

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making it well-suited for inland waterways (Waterman & Coffin, 1920). The hunting canoe, used
exclusively by men, had raised, double-pointed ends that enhanced maneuverability for trolling
and duck hunting. Meanwhile, the freight canoe, often associated with women, was essential for
transporting families, supplies, and funerary remains. Its notched prow, resembling an open mouth,
may have held ceremonial or symbolic meaning (Bates, Hess, & Hilbert, 1994; Roberts &
Shackleton, 1983; Waterman & Coffin, 1920). It is also worth mentioning the dugout knockabout,
which was made for kids to learn how to operate canoes on water from a young age, mentioned to
me in interviews by four participants: “We had a canoe like that all the time When we were kids”
(Carl Martin, personal communication, 2024).
Beyond the local canoe styles, the northern and the Nootkan (or Chinook) canoe were two
additional designs. The northern or Alaskan canoe was large and double-ended, with its name
possibly originating from the Stikine River region (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983). The Nootkan, or
Chinook canoe, was distinctive for its elaborate animal-head prow, a feature linked to Nuu-chahnulth whaling traditions, as discussed here (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983; Thom, 2005). The
presence of these canoes along the Pacific Northcoast indicates trade networks and relationships
among nations, which can also be seen in the terms used for them:
Since Nootkan words form a large part of Chinook jargon, the Northwest trade language,
the two names for this same canoe are the result of extensive trade contacts and its own
seaworthiness between the west coast of Vancouver Island and the lower Columbia River.
(Roberts & Shackleton, 1983, p.108)
Regarding the historical significance of the Salish Canoes, this is what Mark told me in his
interview:

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the Salish canoe and the West Coast canoe predate the Haida-style canoes. It is an older
technology. It’s still the same technology, just older. The reason I know that is because
Western Red Cedar has only been in this climate for 5,000 years and doesn’t exist the
farther north you go. They have spruce up there, not Cedar. They’ll probably be a point of
contention to the northern tribes me saying something like that, that our canoes are older
because you can’t really prove that It’s just my personal opinion (Mark, personal
communication, 2024).
These variations show that canoe technology was integrated into daily life, and each type
was adapted to specific needs and cultural practices. Beyond their historical roles in sustenance,
trade, and warfare, canoes hold cultural significance today through racing traditions, as the
elongated and sleek racing canoe, holding a crew of eleven, is thought to have evolved from the
ancient war canoe (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983). Today, canoe racing remains an important
expression of cultural identity and intertribal relations, with major events hosted at various coastal
communities across Washington and British Columbia (Roberts, 1975). These modern races move
Indigenous canoe-building and maritime knowledge forward, highlighting the significance of
canoes in contemporary cultural resurgence (Hundley, 2022; Roberts & Shackleton, 1983;
Johansen, 2012).
As Castilles explains (Eells, 1985), Myron Eells began documenting Puget Sound
Indigenous communities in 1875, recording observations of their daily lives, cultural practices,
and technologies. His descriptions of canoes provide insight into their construction, function, and
significance among Coast Salish nations. Eells identifies three primary types of canoes in everyday
use and briefly mentions a fourth, less familiar design. The large Chinook canoe, primarily made
by Indigenous communities in British Columbia, was widely used across Puget Sound for carrying

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heavy loads and navigating rough seas. Eells remarks that its square stern was believed to enhance
stability and safety in turbulent waters. This observation reinforces the idea that canoe builders
tailored their designs to specific environmental challenges.
Eells also describes the shovel canoe, sometimes called the river canoe, which he notes
was scarce by the late 19th century. Unlike other canoes, this design featured wide, flat ends
instead of tapering to a point, making it stable in swift rivers. By contrast, fishing or small canoes
were the most common and were constructed from a single piece of wood, often with a fir rim
reinforcement similar to that found on Chinook canoes. These canoes were versatile for fishing,
duck hunting, and short-distance travel on rivers and coastal waters. Eells recounts travelling thirty
miles in such a canoe on Hood Canal, emphasizing that while these smaller vessels were wellsuited for calm conditions, Indigenous paddlers exercised great caution in rough water.
Beyond identifying canoe types, Eells compares Indigenous canoes and settler-built boats.
He notes that, by the turn of the twentieth century, while many Indigenous people had access to
American-made boats, they had not widely replaced traditional canoes. Eells speculates that this
is because canoes were lighter, faster, and more efficient for local travel. Unlike European
rowboats, which required the user to sit facing backward, canoes allowed Indigenous paddlers to
look forward, navigate obstacles, and maintain better vessel control. He also remarks that, despite
the perceived ‘superiority’ of settler boats, Indigenous paddlers—having used canoes since
infancy—experienced far fewer accidents on the water than White settlers did. This perspective
addresses the practical advantages of canoes and challenges the colonial assumption that European
technologies were inherently superior, and reflects the vast knowledge and craftsmanship
associated with Indigenous peoples’ intangible cultural heritages.

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Despite the ingenuity and adaptability of these canoe designs, colonization profoundly
changed canoe-building practices of Indigenous nations along the Northwest Coast. In their
interviews, the collaborators Mark and Robert explain that, by the late 19th century, settlers
recognized the exceptional skill of Indigenous canoe makers and redirected their expertise into
shipyards, shifting construction from dugout to strip canoes. Over time, the availability of large,
suitable logs also declined, making the traditional practice of dugout canoe carving increasingly
rare. Furthermore, as colonial expansion intensified, the need for ocean-going travel diminished,
leading to a long period of dormancy in canoe culture that began in the early 1900s. It was not
until 1989 that large-scale canoe journeys began to re-emerge. In their own words:
The reason why we make strip canoes now is because, during the 19th century, around
1880, when we were being settled and Europeans were arriving, they saw how good the
canoe builders were. So, they took them from making traditional dugouts, which you would
get two canoes out of a log and they put them in shipyards where they would do slats and
build their boats, and they were really good at that. At that transitional period, we went
from dugouts to strips. Nowadays it’s more efficient, with the machinery we can get out of
one single log many canoes. It’s hard to find a log big enough to make a big canoe like
that (Mark, personal communication, 2024).
Collaborator Robert also explains about this:
There’s a long history of canoe and ocean-going travel dating back thousands of years. As
the intrusion process increased in the Pacific Northwest, that practice became less and less.
Our people saw a dormant period beginning in the early 1900s up until 1989 where we did
not really see a lot of activity, especially in our bigger waters outside of our rivers (Robert,
personal communication, 2024).

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Colonialism profoundly altered the presence and usage of canoes in the Pacific Northwest
by restricting Indigenous access to waterways and disrupting traditional transportation networks.
As Harris (2002) explains, the imposition of reserves, restrictive land policies, and resource
extraction economies systematically displaced Indigenous peoples from their traditional territories,
severing connections to vital water routes. Prior to colonization, canoes were central to trade,
diplomacy, warfare, and cultural exchange, allowing Indigenous nations to move freely across vast
maritime and riverine landscapes. However, as Hundley (2022) highlights, colonial expansion not
only displaced Indigenous nations from these waterways but also criminalized aspects of their
mobility, restricting their ability to travel and maintain water-based territorial relationships.
Additionally, the banning of Potlatch (from 1885 to 1951), the Indian Act in Canada (1876), and
the Pass System restricted the free circulation of Indigenous peoples. Laws that constrained
Indigenous fishing rights and access to large cedar trees made it increasingly difficult to sustain
traditional canoe-building practices. The residential school system and forced assimilation policies
further contributed to this decline by severing younger generations from the knowledge of canoemaking, navigation, and water-based cultural traditions. As a result, the widespread presence of
canoes diminished, and by the early 20th century, long-distance ocean-going travel had nearly
disappeared (Harris, 2002; Hundley, 2022; Wilkinson, 2006). As Robert explains:
So, one of the things the challenge for us is our Indian reservation, as you were there, right,
it’s, it’s up on that plateau where we were forced to live. And there are connections to the
rivers and so forth, but a lot of people don’t - unless they’re a fisherman - don’t have that
connection to the saltwater. And so, for it has reestablished that connection. Where many
of the tribes on canoe journeys have waterfront land bases. But we’re one of the few that

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does not. And so, it’s changed that perspective of who we are as saltwater and ocean-going
travellers that do that work (Robert, personal communication, 2024).
Another collaborator reflects on this theme regarding the Makah’s case and adds a touch
of a causality to the events of the past:
I don’t like how they say that Tribal Journeys is a resurgence of our culture. It isn’t. We
have always been cultural, we’ve always been singing, we’ve always been dancing. Maybe not so
many canoes. There was a big fire that burned a bunch of our canoes. They were housed under this
dock and the dock burned and it burned all the canoes. And then the new boats came because that’s
what they would use for fishing. So, there were less canoes. There was still a few around, but not
many (Lauri, personal communication, 2024).
Lastly, by early twentieth Century, diseases brought by European settlers had decimated
Northwest Coast’s Indigenous communities and many times the canoes served as transport for
viruses and bacteria, as Roberts & Shackleton (1983) explain:
To conclude, itis a tragic irony that the canoe, which for thousands of years brought such
prosperity, should become for them a vehicle of destruction, transporting the dread diseases of
Europeans to every part of the coast. Like natives throughout the New World, they had no
immunity or resistance to diseases from the Old, and smallpox introduced by the Spanish in the
eighteenth century wiped out entire villages. Other plagues arrived with seamen and miners, and
influenza swept through in 1830. When the worldwide influenza epidemic of 1918 reached them,
the coast tribes were devastated. The canoe, particularly the trading craft, carried diseases to the
smallest and most remote community (Roberts & Shackleton, 1983).

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Chapter two: Coloniality, Indigenous resurgence through the canoe and the act of canoeing
When doing research with First Nations it is crucial to consider both historical legacies and
ongoing oppressions European powers, through various means, including legislation, forced
assimilation, and territorial dispossession, sought to control and assimilate Indigenous populations
(Quijano, 2014). Specifically, in Canada, the Indian Act, established in 1876 and the residential
school system, which operated from the late 19th century until the 1990s, aimed to assimilate and
enfranchise Indigenous people, causing rupture in intergenerational knowledge transmission,
beliefs, languages, and connections to the land. The implementation of reserves, the outlawing of
cultural practices and languages, and the systemic removal of children from their families created
by these policies exemplify the range of colonial strategies employed to dismantle Indigenous
societies. These efforts aimed to disrupt pre-existing ties of people to their land and selfdetermination, which still impacts contemporary Indigenous contexts (Greenwood & Lindsay,
2019).
The term “cultural genocide” has been employed to describe the systematic efforts to erase
Indigenous cultures through the residential school system, as highlighted by Senator Murray
Sinclair, Chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC). Sinclair (2015)
vividly details this process:
Removed from their families and home communities, seven generations of Aboriginal
children were denied their identity through a systematic and concerted effort to extinguish
their culture, language, and spirit. The schools were part of a larger effort by Canadian
authorities to force Indigenous peoples to assimilate by the outlawing of sacred ceremonies
and important traditions. It is clear that residential schools were a key component of a
Canadian government policy of cultural genocide. (p. 8)

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On the West Coast, one of the most overt acts of cultural suppression was the prohibition
of the potlatch, a ceremonial practice integral to many Indigenous cultures on the Northwest Coast.
The potlatch ban, implemented under the Indian Act from 1884 to 1951, sought to devitalize well
and long-established Indigenous social, political, and economic systems, which were inextricably
linked to these ceremonial exchanges. This prohibition was part of a broader strategy of
displacement and control. Such geographical displacement was not merely about the control of
land but also about severing the connections between Indigenous peoples and their ancestral lands,
disrupting their ability to live according to their traditions and govern themselves (Harris, 2002).
Despite the invaluable efforts of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the legacy and
tactics of colonialism have not disappeared; the attacks, land expropriation, and epistemic and
cosmological racism and violence endure (Menzies, 2001). These tactics have evolved and are
often disguised as national progress or modernization projects, particularly through infrastructure
projects such as pipelines, mining, and environmental protection measures. For instance, the
construction of the Trans Mountain pipeline in Canada (Habib, 2023; Hermes, 2021; Martens,
2019; Razavi, 2023) exemplifies how Indigenous land is continually expropriated in the name of
“progress,” with Indigenous communities opposing such projects due to threats to their sovereignty
and the environmental degradation of their lands (Coulthard, 2014).
Moreover, environmental protection measures often mask the violence of dispossession,
restricting Indigenous peoples’ access to their traditional lands under the guise of conservation.
Modern colonialism also manifests through bureaucratic and legal processes, perpetuating the
dispossession of Indigenous lands, with violence embedded in policy rather than direct physical
force (Menzies, 2001). These initiatives, when they are not partnerships and revenue-sharing
agreements and expropriate Indigenous lands without consent, can perpetuate a cycle of

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dispossession and cultural erosion under the guise of development (LaRocque, 2011; Menzies,
2001). This modern mask of colonialism, presenting itself as benevolent or inevitable progress,
challenges Indigenous communities to recognize and resist renewed forms of encroachment,
revealing the enduring nature of colonial impacts from historical colonization to the present-day
Similarly, epistemic and cosmological racism is evident in land and resource management,
where Western frameworks overshadow Indigenous knowledge systems, marginalizing
Indigenous worldviews, especially in environmental policies that disregard Indigenous
connections to the land (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005).
The imposition of colonial structures not only impacts Indigenous participation in resource
development but also influences their self-perception and cultural identities. As LaRocque, a Métis
scholar and literary critic, voices, “Colonization is not abstract; it is an experience” (LaRocque,
2011, p. 75) and living this ongoing experience impacts Indigenous peoples’ subjectivities, selfinterpretation, and identities (Fanon, 2004).
This legacy of colonialism is not only felt in large-scale resource projects but also in the
erasure or marginalization of traditional practices, such as canoe-making and use. Canoes, as
vessels of both culture and transportation, represent the profound connection between Indigenous
peoples and their lands and waterways. They are more than tools; they are deeply tied to
Indigenous identity and knowledge systems. The persistence of colonial frameworks that prioritize
resource extraction over Indigenous sovereignty echoes in these traditional practices, where the
cultural and environmental importance of canoes is often overlooked or dismissed in favour of
“progress.” Thus, the critique is not meant to subvert First Nations’ interest in participating in
resource projects but to highlight how these projects, when driven by Western models of
development, often fail to respect Indigenous knowledge, sovereignty, and identity. The canoe

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serves as a powerful symbol of this tension, embodying the intertwined relationships between
culture, land, and self-interpretation.
The persistent influence of coloniality demands the reassessment and transformation of
existing societal systems to better the injustices and imbalances they sustain. Decolonial thinking
proposes a reimagining of spaces within colonial frameworks and knowledge systems. It suggests
adopting alternative epistemologies and practices that challenge and resist the overarching colonial
logic (Sumida, 2020).
The concept of decolonization is important in Quijano and Wallerstein (2014) critical
framework of colonial/modernity, which addresses how the conquest of the Americas, beginning
in the late 15th century by Spanish, Portuguese, French, and British forces was instrumental in
shaping the global capitalist system. These conquests involved the systematic exploitation of
Indigenous peoples, lands, and resources, which laid the foundation for the modern economic
order, colonial hierarchies, and power dynamics that persist today. This system entrenched ethnic,
racial, and gender hierarchies that justified the exploitation of colonized territories and peoples, in
an attempt to justify European dominance. The colonial/modernity system intends to perpetuate
hierarchies and inequalities established during colonial times, affecting contemporary social,
economic, and political spheres (Quijano, 2014; Sumida, 2020).
Integrating Bhabha’s (1994) propositions into this research can broaden the understanding
of the political and cultural implications of the journeys. It explores how Indigenous communities
navigate and resist colonial legacies through decolonial practices within Canoe Journeys in the
Salish Sea, offering a complementary perspective to the cultural dynamics observed in these
Indigenous contexts. The author’s concepts of hybridity, ambivalence, negotiation, and the Third
Space permit an examination of the complex interactions and transformations of cultural traditions

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under ongoing colonial influences, resilience and innovation of Indigenous cultures, highlighting
how these communities maintain and adapt their traditions amidst postcolonial realities.
Specifically, Bhabha’s concept of hybridity can help is understand how Indigenous practices
intersect with contemporary influences on these journeys, blending traditional navigation skills,
canoe-building techniques, and ceremonial practices with modern materials, tools and methods.
Such hybridity challenges the narrative of cultural homogenization, showing adaptability and
illustrating the Indigenous communities’ capacity to innovate while maintaining cultural identities.
An Indigenous framework of hybridity is the “Two-Eyed Seeing” approach proposed by Mi’kmaw
Elder Albert Marshall (Bartlett et al., 2012), which encourages seeing the world through both
Indigenous and Western perspectives, promoting balance and mutual respect. Within the context
of the canoe journeys, Two-Eyed Seeing allows for a richer understanding of how these events
serve as sites of cultural resurgence and innovation, integrating traditional knowledge while
adapting to modern challenges.
Ambivalence, in turn, emerges as a complex component of these journeys, where
participants experience and express mixed emotions stemming from their cultural pride and
historical traumas associated with colonization. These journeys re-enact historical routes and
narratives, emphasizing ongoing struggles between Indigenous resilience and the often-arduous
legacies of colonial oppression, making them spaces for healing and confrontation with the past
and intergenerational trauma. This dual perspective helps acknowledge the depth of participants’
emotional and cultural complexities, providing a more nuanced view of their healing processes
and resilience.
Finally, Bhabha’s Third Space is particularly relevant. It represents an area of cultural
engagement where new identities and practices can emerge, transcending traditional binaries of

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the colonizer and colonized. In this sense, the canoe journeys are a physical and metaphorical space
where participants can experience other forms of identity and community that are not solely
defined by colonial histories but are forward-looking and incorporate elements of tradition and
modernity. As a Third Space, the canoe embodies this concept by serving as a vessel for cultural
transmission and transformation and, alongside the canoe journeys, facilitates the emergence of
hybrid identities and practices that challenge and subvert dominant narratives, also aligning with
the concept of “Two-Eyed Seeing”. Bhabha (1994) writes that:
…because it makes the surfaces of cinematic signification the grounds of political
intervention, gives depth to the language of social criticism and extends the domain of
‘politics’ in a direction that will not be entirely dominated by the forces of economic or
social control. Forms of popular rebellion and mobilization are often most subversive and
transgressive when they are created through the identification with oppositional cultural
practices. (p. 29)
Bhabha’s strategies toward decolonization, therefore, attempt to transcend economic
relations into integrated approaches that acknowledge the complex interplay of capitalism,
patriarchy, white supremacy, and the overarching influence of state power. Decolonization
involves not just economic redistribution but also dismantling these interconnected systems of
oppression to dismantle persistent colonial structures. In the context of Indigenous communities,
decolonization involves reclaiming governance and cultural practices. As both a cultural and
practical symbol, the canoe plays a central role in this process. Canoes reconnect Indigenous
peoples with their ancestral lands and waters, countering the colonial exploitation of resources.
Revitalizing canoe-making and journeying preserves tradition and acts as resistance against
capitalist encroachment on Indigenous territories. Through these practices, Indigenous

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communities assert sovereignty, maintain cultural continuity, and challenge colonial systems of
control (Coulthard, 2014).
Bhabha’s decolonial strategies illustrate the significance of the TCJ by transcending
economic relations and resisting capitalist frameworks that prioritize profit over cultural
preservation. The canoe journeys represent a form of decolonization that transforms Indigenous
subjectivities, reclaiming identity and rejecting colonial narratives. While legal recognition of
Indigenous rights offers opportunities, it also risks co-opting movements like the TCJ within
colonial structures. The TCJ resists this by grounding itself in traditional practices, ensuring that
these journeys remain a space for genuine self-determination and cultural continuity.
However, addressing the polysemy surrounding “decolonization” is important. Grande
(2015) emphasizes that decolonization should not be reduced to a metaphor for general struggles
against oppression. Instead, it involves a complex engagement with colonialism beyond reclaiming
a pre-colonial past. Decolonization is not a definitive goal but an ongoing process: “Decolonization
is thus a shifting configuration of strategies and actions, not an event, even as it is nonetheless
eventful. Decolonization is a means without end. It is a creative response that necessarily exceeds
legibility and reconciliation from the perspective of the conditions from which it arises”. This
perspective aligns with the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ), which embody ongoing acts of resistance
and cultural revitalization. The TCJ show that decolonization is a continuous process, blending
traditional practices with modern influences. Indigenous communities actively practice
decolonization through these journeys, continuously adapting and reasserting their sovereignty.
Glen Coulthard (2014), a Dene scholar and political theorist, provides a critical framework
for understanding Canada’s coloniality and its response, Indigenous resistance. He argues that
because after the transition to industrial capitalism,

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Canadian state-formation and colonial-capitalist development required first and foremost
land, and only secondarily the surplus value afforded by cheap, Indigenous labour […]
dispossession, not proletarianization, has been the dominant background structure shaping
the character of the historical relationship between Indigenous peoples and the Canadian
state. […] Just as importantly, I would also argue that dispossession continues to inform
the dominant modes of Indigenous resistance and critique that this relationship has
provoked. (p.51)
This ongoing dispossession, Coulthard argues, continues to shape Indigenous resistance
and critique, as the struggle for land is central to Indigenous anti-colonialism. The author
introduces the concept of “grounded normativity” to describe the “place-based foundation of
Indigenous decolonial thought and practice” (Coulthard, 2014, p. 13). This concept includes
various Indigenous practices and knowledge connected to the land, guiding and shaping ethical
interactions with the world and human and nonhuman entities. Thus, resistance is not solely about
reclaiming land in a material sense but also about the land as “a system of reciprocal relations and
obligations” (Coulthard, 2014, p. 13), in which our interactions with each other and the natural
world do not have to be based on domination or exploitation.
On the realm of subjectivity, Coulthard also critiques what he calls the “liberal politics of
recognition,” which he sees as serving colonial interests rather than genuinely addressing the needs
of Indigenous peoples. Drawing on the work of Frantz Fanon, Coulthard explores how recognition
in colonial contexts often operates in favour of the colonizer. Fanon (2004) argued that in colonial
contexts, the terms of recognition are set by and benefit the colonizer, and over time, the colonized
develop emotional and psychological attachments to these imposed forms of recognition.
According to Coulthard, this attachment is crucial in maintaining colonialism’s political and

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economic structures, and his use of Fanon’s theoretical approach emphasizes “the role played by
recognition in the reproduction of settler-colonial forms of rule in a manner that still resonates
today” (Coulthard, 2014, p. 12). He further reflects that “strategies that have sought independence
via capitalist economic development have already facilitated the creation of an emergent
Aboriginal bourgeoisie whose thirst for profit has come to outweigh their ancestral obligations to
the land and to others” (Coulthard, 2014, p. 13). Coulthard argues that these strategies risk
undermining traditional Indigenous cultural practices and social organization’s egalitarian,
nonauthoritarian, and sustainable characteristics. The pursuit of profit, when divorced from these
ancestral responsibilities, threatens to erode the very foundations of Indigenous ways of life.
Coulthard also highlights how the legal approach to self-determination has created a class
of Indigenous citizens whose rights and identities are increasingly defined concerning the colonial
state rather than by the traditions and histories of their own nations. He echoes Fanon’s belief that
colonial power must be challenged at the objective and subjective) levels for fundamental
transformation to occur and that changes in social structures alone do not guarantee changes in the
subjectivities of the oppressed. For the author, this critique is relevant to the Aboriginal rights
movement in Canada, in which discourse of recognition has often served to uphold colonial power
and that true self-determination should aim to protect the core values of Indigenous nations,
resisting the homogenizing forces of Western liberalism and free-market capitalism.
The Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) are not only cultural revivals but also acts of Indigenous
resistance, embodying Coulthard’s (2014) concept of grounded normativity—the ethical
relationship between Indigenous peoples and their lands. Canoe-making and journeying reinforce
connections to ancestral territories, resisting the colonial view of land as a resource for
exploitation. The TCJ also challenges the liberal politics of recognition, bypassing colonial

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systems by enacting Indigenous sovereignty on its own terms and fostering self-determination
rooted in tradition rather than state-sanctioned frameworks.
Similarly, Mullins (2009) discusses how the physical movement and interaction with
different landscapes can reshape group dynamics and deepen our understanding of place, identity,
and connection. His observations suggest that engaging actively with varied environments can lead
to a richer comprehension of place meanings, supporting the decolonial goal of transforming and
enriching our interactions with the world. Such a decolonial approach aims at fostering social,
economic, and political environments that are inclusive and equitable, emphasizing the voices and
needs of those marginalized by colonial legacies.
Mullins’ research demonstrates that canoeing, as more than just a recreational activity,
engages participants intimately with the landscapes they traverse, forming a relationship between
movement, skill, and environment that deepens place attachment and collective identity. Canoeing
brings together stories of the land, creating “living stories of the landscape” (Mullins, 2009, p.239)
shaped by the physical and social experiences of those moving through it. In this way, canoeing
can be a decolonial practice in which Indigenous knowledge systems and embodied experiences
emphasize connection, interdependence, and respect for the land.
This author further emphasizes that these interactions are not static but evolve as people
develop skills while experiencing the landscape. Navigating diverse environments—such as rivers,
lakes, and forests—creates meaningful connections to places that transcend the Western notion of
landscapes as static scenarios—understanding the land as dynamic challenges colonial frameworks
that often separate nature from culture. As canoeists become attuned to natural rhythms such as
wind and water currents, the landscape itself shapes their movements and decisions, fostering a
deeper connection and sense of interdependence (Mullins, 2009, p. 248). Canoe journeys promote

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personal growth and group cohesion, nurturing relationships among participants and with the
environment. These interactions support a decolonial ethos that resists commodification and
exploitation, reinforcing sustainable and respectful engagement with the land.

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Tribal Canoe Journeys as Indigenous Resurgence
As a response to the impacts colonialism has on current society, especially for Indigenous
peoples, different resistances, negotiations, and revivals are taking place across Canada, resulting
in various resurgence movements and projects. Indigenous resurgence movements undertaken by
various First Nations aim to heal from and respond to centuries of colonialism. These movements
seek to reclaim and revitalize interrupted traditions, reconnecting to their lands, languages,
epistemologies, and cosmologies, envisioning and constructing future realities rooted in
Indigenous stories, visions and desires (Green, 2004). As discussed by Greenwood and Lindsay
(2019):
Despite the violence of colonialism that forcibly removed Indigenous peoples from their
lands, Indigenous peoples around the world have maintained connections to their lands,
languages, and cultures, and are actively contributing to a resurgence of Indigenous
knowledge that is passed through the generations. This knowledge is crucial to ongoing
struggles as Indigenous peoples resist colonization of their lands and lives on many
different fronts. (pp. 82-3)
These resurgence movements are characterized by grassroots and community-led efforts,
embodying the principles of self-determination and cultural sovereignty (Corntassel, 2012; Elliott,
2018). Elliot (2018) identifies three critical axes of these movements as reactions to past atrocities
but proactive steps toward a decolonized future defined by Indigenous peoples: (1) that colonialism
in the Canadian context is an active structure of domination and fundamentally oriented towards
the elimination of Indigenous societies rather than merely their subjugation; (2) that the prevailing
normative-discursive environment powerfully reflects these underlying imperatives despite
apparent shifts towards better addressing colonial injustice; and (3) that Indigenous peoples must

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consequently seek to turn away from this hostile environment wherever possible and channel
energies into independent programs of cultural, social, spiritual and physical rejuvenation. The
annual Tribal Canoe Journeys along the Pacific Northwest Coast are striking examples of
decolonization. These journeys, which have grown in participation since their revitalization in
1989, embody the principles of cultural sovereignty and self-determination. Through the practice
of paddling and protocol, Indigenous communities reclaim waterways as vital cultural landscapes,
reinforcing intergenerational teachings, language revitalization, and connection to ancestral
territories. By focusing on traditional modes of travel and gathering, the Tribal Canoe Journeys
serve as a powerful enactment of Elliott’s third axis—turning away from colonial structures and
instead investing in Indigenous-led cultural resurgence. The resurgence of these ceremonial and
navigational practices, rooted in community collaboration and Indigenous governance, highlights
a tangible expression of Indigenous peoples’ movements toward a decolonized future.
Historically, the term “Indian” was used to describe the people who lived in the Americas
before the arrival of Europeans. However, there were distinct peoples, each with unique cultures
and traditions that colonial boundaries have since distorted. Recognition of this underscores the
complexity of Indigenous identity, which is formed by shared memories and experiences rather
than by the simplistic categories imposed by colonialism. Furthermore, Indigenous identities and
nationhood are not static or monolithic but dynamic and marked by continuity and adaptation.
Indigenous cultures, therefore, should not be romanticized as unchanged since pre-colonial times
but recognized for their ability to evolve and adapt, acknowledging their cultural diversity. This
adaptability and resistance to the necropolitical aspects of colonialism become evident in the TCJ.
The TCJ exemplifies how Indigenous peoples continue to evolve, resist colonial structures,
and reclaim cultural practices. As communities come together through the TCJ, they navigate

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waters that once facilitated trade and cultural exchange among coastal nations, symbolizing both
the continuity of ancestral knowledge and the dynamic adaptation of these practices in modern
times. The TCJ challenges colonialism by rejecting imposed identities and demonstrating that
Indigenous cultures are living, resilient, and capable of shaping a future where Indigenous and
non-Indigenous terms may reflect their historical implications (Coburn, 2015). Through this
gathering, Indigenous nations reaffirm their sovereignty, express their shared and diverse
identities, and resist the narratives of cultural stagnation that colonialism perpetuates.
To conclude, through the canoe and by canoeing together, Indigenous peoples also seek to
reclaim Indigenous cultures and knowledge systems that have been marginalized or eroded by
colonization and recognize and address historical injustices (Sumida, 2020). Centralizing the
voices and experiences of Indigenous individuals engaged in culturally significant practices like
canoeing allows an understanding of their realities, challenges, and aspirations, contesting the
colonial narratives and power structures that have long dominated and subjugated Indigenous
cultures (Elliott, 2018). This research, therefore, cultivates empathy and cultural sensitivity and
highlights the physical, emotional, and spiritual enterprise that canoeing entails, underlining the
community and identity bonds formed through such shared experiences (Beattie, 2017; Elliott,
2018). The Pulling Together Canoe Society5 exemplifies this by promoting canoeing as a conduit
to a past free from prejudice, symbolizing community, respect, and knowledge, and marking a
critical component of Indigenous resurgence in British Columbia since 2001 (Pulling Together
Canoe Society, 2022). These canoe journeys serve as vital acts within Indigenous resurgence
movements, helping to reconnect communities with their traditions, re-establish sustainable

5

A non-profit organization that foments canoeing the traditional highways of rivers, lakes, and coastal waters
including TCJ.

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economies, and foster solidarity: “In canoe journeys, the canoe almost leads its crew along, its own
journey of ten thousand years or more an exemplar of unity and power, of daunting persistence,
and spiritual transport” (Pulling Together Canoe Society, 2022). Thus, in canoe journeys, the canoe
leads this decolonial object and practice that reconnects people and communities to centuries of
persistence. Analyzing canoe journeys from multiple perspectives (paddlers, skippers, land crew,
canoe carvers, experienced knowledge holders) stresses the significance of intergenerational
knowledge transmission, reinforcing connections between elders, youth, and the land. This
approach acknowledges the role of ancient practices and values in sustaining the resilience and
strength of Indigenous communities amid historical traumas and contemporary challenges
(Beattie, 2017; Daehnke, 2019; Hirch & Korn, 2012; Hundley, 2022; Johnson et al., 2019).
Examining paddlers’ experiences may reveal their agency, resilience, and aspirations for cultural
continuity, thereby supporting and advancing revitalization efforts.

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Chapter three: Methodology
In indigenous research methods, story sharing is the
culturally appropriate way to do so, so I would just be
sharing my experience and the impact the canoe journeys
had on me. It would come out more organically.
(Carol, personal communication, 2024)
The methodology of this study is uniquely characterized by its foundational element: the
canoe. Drawing inspiration from Indigenous scholars who emphasize that each research inquiry
demands its own methodology (Cajete, 2000; Chilisa, 2012; Kovach, 2005 & 2010; Memmi,
1974/2003; Wilson, 2008), the canoe, for me, emerged as this project’s guiding metaphor
methodological framework. Its significance, usage, imagery, and cultural importance steered the
entire research process, underscoring the necessity to engage with paddlers, skippers, and carvers.
Since I began learning about the process of building a dugout canoe, I have also been
learning how to navigate academic writing. The steps of canoe-making became a metaphor for
writing this thesis, providing a vivid and relatable framework for understanding the research and
writing process. This connection became clear when one of the collaborators of this research, Joe
Martin, shared his perspective: “I make the canoe, and the canoe makes me as a canoe-maker.”
Similarly, as I write this thesis, the thesis is also shaping me and writing my history—transforming
me into a student, researcher, and future knowledge holder.
The first step in canoe-making, selecting the tree, is equivalent to choosing a research topic.
Both are foundational decisions that determine the strength and direction of the outcome. Preparing
the log, which involves stripping the bark and shaping the wood into a rough form, parallels
developing a research proposal—a process of refining an initial idea, conducting a preliminary
literature review, and outlining research objectives and methodology. Hollowing out the log
mirrors conducting a literature review: just as the wood is carefully removed to create space, the

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research process involves delving deeply into existing literature, identifying gaps, and shaping a
niche for new knowledge.
As the canoe begins to form, the hull’s shaping is akin to designing the research
methodology. Just as the canoe’s hull must be symmetrical and functional – in case of dugouts, it
must be widened with the use of fire - a research methodology must be structured and reliable to
ensure a well-balanced study. Finishing the exterior corresponds to writing the thesis, as both
require careful refinement—the canoe must be smoothed for performance and durability, just as
the thesis must be clearly structured, well-supported, and logically organized.
The final steps of canoe-making further reflect the completion and dissemination of a
thesis. Adding final details—such as seating and decorative elements—enhances the canoe’s
functionality and beauty, just as revising and editing the thesis improves clarity, coherence, and
adherence to academic standards. Sealing and waterproofing the canoe ensures its durability and
longevity, like defending and finalizing a thesis strengthening its credibility. Lastly, just as a canoe
requires ongoing maintenance to remain in good condition, a completed thesis must be published
and disseminated to contribute to the academic community and remain accessible to future
scholars.
Beyond the mechanics of building and writing, the canoe is also a vessel of connection.
Just as canoes bring people together—allowing communities to gather, travel, and share
knowledge—this canoe that I embarked on through my research has drawn me closer to my
collaborators and the land I am in. The relationships I have formed through this journey have
shaped my understanding of the knowledge I seek to engage with, much like how paddlers must
move in rhythm with one another and the water they traverse. Through this metaphor, the canoe is
more than just a physical object—it is a way of thinking, learning, and growing. Just as a canoe

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carries its paddler through changing waters, the thesis-writing process guides the researcher
through the challenges of inquiry, reflection, and knowledge creation.
This centrality of the canoe informed the choice of collaborators and the direction of
inquiry, shaping the thematic analysis of the data collected. By placing the canoe at the heart of
the research, I aimed to embody its values of connectivity, journeying, and community, principles
that are intrinsic to Indigenous ways of knowing and being. Similar to how archaeologists studying
pottery shards are not only interested in the clay itself, but also in the people and cultures behind
it, this research focuses on the canoe, with an emphasis on the people and behaviors that this iconic
object inspires and fosters.
Colonial disruptions of political, social, and economic systems led to a loss of Indigenous
knowledge and promoted racism, creating what is termed the “colonized mind” (Chilisa, 2012).
Western research paradigms often neglect the impacts of imperialism, colonization, and
globalization on knowledge construction, perpetuating colonial powers, underscoring the need to
decolonize research practices to prevent deepening historical injustices (Chilisa, 2012).
Recognizing this, this research is grounded in a decolonial perspective, challenging colonial
patterns, concepts, and perspectives, while challenging the hegemony of a singular worldview
advocating for a diverse plurality that elevates and amplifies other voices (Suess & de Souza Silva,
2019). Such an approach leads to research practices that respect Indigenous sovereignty by
focusing on their voices and narratives. It also demands constant reflexivity regarding power
dynamics and the researcher’s positionality, ensuring that the research process does not replicate
colonial structures of knowledge production.
In addition to the decolonial perspective, Indigenous Critical Theory provides a lens
through which to approach the canoe as a metaphorical and methodological anchor. This

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theoretical framework critically examines the effects of colonialism on Indigenous populations
and their forms of resistance. It centres on Indigenous histories, knowledge systems, and
cosmologies, ensuring research aligns with Indigenous interests and perspectives (Chilisa, 2012;
Memmi, 1974/2003). Moreover, it highlights the importance of recognizing Indigenous cultures
and histories’ distinct temporality and meanings. It cautions, however, against approaching these
cultures and practices statically or rigidly, rejecting a fundamentalistic perspective that views both
the people and their cultural expressions as fixed in time and place (Coates, 2004; Green, 2004).
The canoe also serves as a metaphor for the journey of decolonization. Just as a canoe must
navigate through various waters, decolonizing research must traverse complex terrains of historical
trauma, cultural resilience, and contemporary challenges. This methodology facilitates a deeper
connection to the subject matter and aligns with Indigenous Critical Theory by challenging
colonial constructs and advocating for a plurality of voices and perspectives. In this way, the canoecentric approach helps to deconstruct the dominant narratives imposed by Western paradigms and
fosters a more inclusive and accurate representation of Indigenous knowledge and experiences.
Gregory Cajete (2000), a Tewa scholar, emphasizes the inseparable connection between
humans and nature in Native science. Native philosophy integrates rational thought with
interactions of the body, mind, soul, and spirit within nature, promoting a holistic approach where
knowledge arises from these interactions. Key principles include diversity, optimization,
cooperation, self-regulation, change, creativity, connectedness, and niche, forming a system
valuing harmony with the environment. This involves direct experiences, careful observation, and
focusing on meaning rather than prediction. Native science views causality as including
synchronicity and energy transformation, intertwining spirituality with science, and seeing nature
as imbued with spirit. Interpretations are context-based, using metaphoric stories and symbols,

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with teaching methods employing high-context models to unify experience with meaning. This
philosophy emphasizes engaging with nature for wisdom and understanding (Cajete, 2000).
Contributing to this holistic approach, the concept of animism, as understood within
Indigenous frameworks, provides a lens through which to view human and “more-than-human”
relationships. For instance, a nuanced understanding of animism among the Ojibwe people
emphasizes relational ontology over the traditional Western interpretation of spirits inhabiting
objects. This perspective views the world as filled with “persons,” including other-than-human
entities such as animals, plants, stones, and celestial bodies. Like humans, these entities possess
agency, consciousness, and the capacity for social relationships. This worldview highlights the
interconnectedness and mutual respect required in Ojibwe cosmology, where relationships with
these other-than-human persons are fundamental. The concept of other-than-human persons
highlights the Ojibwe perception of the natural world as a community of beings with whom they
interact through specific behaviours, rituals, and protocols (Hallowell, 1964). Interactions with
these entities involve asking permission before taking resources, offering thanks, and engaging in
reciprocal relationships. This approach to animism is deeply rooted in behaviour and ethical
relations, demonstrating a profound respect for the agency of natural phenomena and reinforcing
the interconnectedness between humans and the environment (Hallowell, 1964).
Applying one Indigenous worldview to another requires acknowledging cultural
differences while recognizing shared principles, such as relationality and respect for the natural
world. While the Ojibwe emphasize relational ontology with other-than-human persons, similar
concepts are found among Indigenous groups from the Pacific Northwest, including the Coast
Salish. These groups also maintain ethical relationships with land and water through specific
protocols during canoe journeys, reflecting respect for the agency of natural entities. Using the

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Ojibwe framework as a comparative lens highlights these shared principles of interconnectedness
across Indigenous cultures, enriching the understanding of Indigenous environmental ethics
without imposing one worldview onto another (Hallowell, 1964).
This perspective challenges the rigid dichotomies prevalent in Western thought, such as the
distinctions between subject and object or nature and culture. Instead, different Indigenous
worldviews convert to an integrated and fluid understanding of existence, where all beings are part
of a dynamic and interconnected system. This holistic perspective is not merely a set of beliefs but
a comprehensive understanding of the world and one’s place within it. It shapes experiences,
interactions, and identity, emphasizing the importance of living in harmony with the environment
and all its inhabitants (Hallowell, 1964). This understanding of animism translates into everyday
actions and decisions that reflect Indigenous worldviews. Hunting practices, for example, involve
communicating with animal spirits, seeking their consent, and performing rituals to honour the
animal’s life. Such practices are integral to maintaining the balance and reciprocity central to
Native ethics, which highlights the depth and complexity of such worldviews, encouraging a more
respectful and holistic approach to engaging with Indigenous cultures and their spiritual practices
and ethical systems (Hallowell, 1964).
Similarly, another theoretical approach to the holistic aspect of Indigenous knowledge is
Amerindian perspectivism, conceptualized by anthropologist Eduardo Viveiros de Castro. This
theory posits that different beings perceive themselves as humans and view their world from an
anthropocentric perspective, contrasting sharply with the Western subject-object dichotomy that
separates sentient beings from non-sentient things (Viveiros de Castro, 1998). In Amerindian
cultures, relationality and interconnectedness are emphasized, where every entity, including
animals, plants, and inanimate objects like rocks and rivers, possesses agency and personhood.

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This holistic perspective aligns with Indigenous spiritualities, where the divine is seen as immanent
within the world, such as the Salish Sea’s landscapes, where ancestral spirits and the divine are
integral to the natural world rather than existing beyond it (Thom, 2005).
While Amerindian perspectivism offers a framework for understanding relationality, it is
crucial to ground this within the Coast Salish context. As will be discussed, interviews suggest that
landscapes like the Salish Sea are inhabited by ancestral spirits and natural entities with agency,
reflecting a deep connection between people and place. Rather than imposing outside perspectives,
the interviews indicate that Coast Salish cosmologies emphasize the interconnectedness of all
beings, both human and non-human, aligning with the cultural and spiritual worldview described
by Thom (2005). This relational understanding of the natural world is central to Coast Salish
identity and spirituality, as shown in their interactions with the land and water. Regarding the canoe
and the Nuu-Chah-Nulth, Miller (1999) brings this interconnectedness to the making of the canoe
itself:
Ahousat canoe makers assured him that the animal-head-like bow was indeed a Wolf,
although this was a “secret” known only among certain families. Throughout the
Northwest, both wolves and orca killer whales were regarded as the same being, taking the
shapes of the pack on land or a pod in the sea. Since both species are social carnivores, this
astute equation enabled such a canoe to partake of the power of wolf + orca when in pursuit
of whales. Interestingly, since Nuu-chah-nulth believe that whales have keen eye-sight,
designs to give added power to a vessel were hidden under a black overpainting. (p. 109)
Integrating holistic perspectives rooted in Indigenous ways of knowing deepens our
understanding of the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) as a metaphor for navigating complex
intersections, where participants engage in integrated experiences that transcend physical

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canoeing, embodying spiritual, cultural, and relational journeys, in an immanent connection to
land, sea, spirits and ancestors in an interconnected view of existence (Viveiros de Castro, 1998).
In TCJ, canoes are seen as partners in the journey, blurring the lines between subject and object.
As well as the sea, as a collaborator mentioned:
One year, I was working with a youth canoe, and one of my friends was in another canoe.
I think it might have been the Samish canoe, but their canoe flipped, and our canoe flipped
that day, and some stuff was lost, and everybody came together, we all helped out and did
what we needed to. This friend, she said, “You know, we flipped. I lost this, this, and this.
But I still have my life, and the ocean is going to take what she wants and give back what
she doesn’t want. And that’s our lives. She gave that back (John, personal communication,
2024).
Just as a canoe must navigate through various waters, decolonizing research must traverse
complex terrains of historical trauma, cultural resilience, and contemporary challenges. Therefore,
this research adopts a canoe-centric methodology, engaging paddlers, skippers, and carvers
through interviews and participant observation to honor Indigenous perspectives. By centering the
canoe as both a cultural and methodological vessel, this approach fosters collaboration and upholds
Indigenous protocols throughout the research process. The stories and lived experiences shared by
collaborators guide the findings, ensuring that Indigenous voices are at the forefront of knowledge
creation. Ethical considerations and reflexivity are carefully maintained to avoid replicating
colonial knowledge structures, acknowledging the power dynamics at play and striving for a
decolonized research framework. This methodology respects Indigenous worldviews, not only as
subjects of the research but as active contributors and co-creators of knowledge.

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Incorporating subjectivity into the research.
In this research, elements of experiential knowledge, storytelling, intuition, and dreams
were incorporated by engaging directly with Indigenous collaborators through interviews and
participant observation, assessing their relational and collective experiences. This approach
legitimizes personal experiences and storytelling and lays emphasis on the importance of
reciprocity in relationships (Kovach, 2005 & 2010).
Recognizing the essential role of subjective experiences in understanding historical and
cultural narratives, this research embraces subjectivity in autobiographical discourse and oral
history. Narratives construct and express subjectivity. Ignoring this distorts data and overlooks an
essential aspect of humans: experience. Although immaterial (beyond control and measurement)
and impregnated with individualism, subjectivity operates within the broader context of socially
defined structures and discourses. Thus, social and historical research gains by including
subjective experiences and developing methodologies to interpret them (Portelli, 1997). Texts, as
both individual and social artifacts, including oral narratives and interviews, serve as a bridge
between the individual and the social and reveal how personal expressions negotiate social realities
through recognizable, socially shared “grammars,” validating the relevance of subjective
narratives in representing broader cultural and social phenomena (Portelli, 1997).
The Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) exemplify how subjective narratives emerge through
collective cultural practices. As paddlers recount their experiences on the journey, they reflect
personal and communal connections to land, water, and ancestral traditions. These individual
stories, while deeply personal, embody shared cultural values and histories, illustrating how
personal subjectivity contributes to the continuity and adaptation of Indigenous social realities.

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Subjective narratives are integral to the transmission of Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH)
as defined by the 2003 UNESCO Convention. ICH encompasses living traditions, expressions,
knowledge, and skills passed down through generations, closely linked to the identities and
worldviews of communities. The Convention emphasizes the role of individuals and communities
in safeguarding ICH through everyday practices and oral traditions, which are often expressed
through personal, subjective narratives (Pawlowska-Mainville, 2023). These narratives are not
only vehicles for the transmission of cultural knowledge but also reflect the dynamic and evolving
nature of ICH. By incorporating individual experiences, emotions, and perspectives, subjective
narratives contribute to the vitality of cultural heritage, ensuring its relevance across generations.
In this way, the personal stories that accompany traditional practices, whether through song,
storytelling, or communal activities, serve as a bridge between the past and the present, enriching
ICH with the lived experiences that shape its continuity and transformation.
In this way, interviewing collaborators for this research acknowledges that individual
narratives reflect a broader horizon of shared possibilities. Oral histories and autobiographies
extend beyond reconstructing average experiences to project imagined and potential events,
revealing socially shared subjectivity crucial for understanding human experiences. By including
these subjective perspectives, this research embraces the mosaic-like nature of reality, providing a
richer portrayal of life than standardized Western social science grids (Portelli, 1997). Integrating
these principles may help to ensure a more comprehensive understanding of Indigenous
experiences.

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Methods
To address the research questions, this study utilized a comprehensive research design: (1)
selecting and evaluating secondary data sources, such as peer-reviewed literature and media
(social, and audio-videos); (2) community-based observation in the TCJ Paddle to Muckleshoot in
2023; (3) analyzing the landing ceremony video to identify potential interview collaborators; and
(4) conducting semi-structured interviews with seven people as the primary data source, focusing
on the narratives and perspectives of paddlers, canoe knowledge holders, and other participants in
line with decolonial and Indigenous Critical Theory approach, who are willing to share about the
interests of the research project.
The selection of secondary data sources was guided by their relevance to understanding the
role of the TCJ and canoeing within Indigenous resurgence movements. Sources were evaluated
based on their alignment with the research’s decolonial and Indigenous critical theoretical
frameworks, prioritizing Indigenous stories about the TCJ. This process is on-going since 2020,
providing essential context and perspectives into the final stages of this thesis.
My observations of the Tribal Canoe Journey (TCJ) Paddle to Muckleshoot in the summer
of 2023 represented a pivotal step. My journey to Muckleshoot, WA, was an immersive experience.
I observed the TCJ landing ceremony, met people and shared meals with the paddlers at the
Muckleshoot Community Centre, as well as participated in the cultural protocols and festivities.
Because I lacked Research Ethics Board (REB) approval at that time of the event, I abstained from
conducting any interviews. However, I embraced the opportunity to participate, meet people and
engage in activities. I also took notes, documenting the essence of this communal gathering where
the public was welcome. This firsthand experience permitted me to meet people, connect with
them, and tell them about my research. Some people who were interested agreed to be contacted

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later. This immersive experience allowed for a deeper and more personal understanding of the
dynamics and significance of the TCJ, rooting the research in lived experience. Even as a mere
observer, I gained valuable insights that would later enrich the follow-up interviews, enabling
questions grounded in this firsthand understanding.
Subsequently, I viewed the full video of the landing on the YouTube website to revisit and
gain more knowledge of the experience. As explained above, during the landing protocol, canoe
families sought permission to come ashore, sharing words, songs, dances, and other cultural
expressions. Because of this, I was able to gather more information on the people and canoe
families to contact, which was instrumental in identifying potential collaborators for the
interviews. After receiving approval from the Research Ethics Board6, I contacted collaborators
through email, the “canoe family”, or personal Facebook pages.
From the contacts gathered, I conducted semi-structured interviews, using the following
questions as guidelines to elicit stories.
1.

Could you tell me a little about yourself, including your name, nation, canoe family,

place of residence or origin,
2.

How and when you became involved with the TCJ?

3.

What is your most vivid memory involving a canoe?

4.

Why is canoeing with the TCJ important for you? Is it different than if you go on a

boat? Are there differences between regular mainstream canoe practices and Salish

6

File No: 6009221
Project Title: Tribal Canoe Journeys in the Salish Sea: Well-being, ancestral knowledge and techniques, Indigenous
Resistance and cultural resurgence.
Approval Date: December 05, 2023

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seafaring canoe tribal practices? What are the stories you have heard about the TCJ
journey?
5.

Could you share a story about your most powerful experience during the journey?

6.

How has travelling together on the TCJ influenced your understanding of water,

landscape, and territory?
7.

Can you share your perspective on if and how the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ)

contribute to Indigenous resistance and cultural resurgence movements?
These questions were adapted to each interview flow, considering the collaborators’ varied
relationships with the canoe, including canoe carvers, land and support crew, journey organizers,
and paddlers (skippers and regular paddlers). Most interviews were conducted online. A special
effort was made to meet with Joe Martin and Carl Martin, two master carvers from Nuu-ChahNulth who invited me to visit them. Recognizing the importance of his work and wisdom—he has
been awarded the BC Community Achievement Award (2012) and the BC Creative Achievement
Awards for First Nations’ Art (2013)—I visited Joe in the winter of 2024. Each collaborator had
the choice to remain anonymous or be named, in alignment with the principles of respect,
reciprocity, relevance, and responsibility, the 4Rs (Kirkness & Barnhardt, 1991). Collaborators
who preferred anonymity were assigned aliases, and care was taken to obscure any identifiable
information. Interviews were flexible, typically lasting about an hour, and were tailored to
accommodate the needs and interests of the collaborators.

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Figure 19
Territorial Distribution of Coast Salish Nations.

The strategy in these interviews was to create a space focused on the collaborators’ stories
and perspectives. This approach permitted me to capture the narratives emphasizing the value of

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their experiences in line with the project objectives. I approached the interviews humbly, with an
open mind, and actively listened to them.
Following each interview, we discussed the possibility of ongoing communication. I
offered collaborators the transcripts of their interviews, aiming to encourage their involvement and
insight so a collaborative dialogue could continue beyond our initial interaction. After a careful
transcription, I engaged in transcreation (Meihy, 2005), attempting to honour the essence of each
collaborators experiences through these three main steps: (1) transcription, where spoken words
are documented verbatim; (2) textualization, which refines these transcripts by removing the
interviewer’s questions, correcting grammatical errors, and eliminating semantically weak
phrases; and (3) transcreation, where the textualized content is transformed into a cohesive,
expressive narrative. This process ensures that the final text represents the collaborators’
storytelling style and experiences, incorporating non-verbal elements like gestures and silences to
enhance clarity and emotional impact. The quality of the final text is confirmed through
collaborator review and approval, ensuring their identification with the presented narratives
(Meihy, 2005). By using transcreation, the research preserves their voices and experiences while
adapting them to written language, making the narratives more vivid and impactful.
After transcreation, I applied thematic analysis, engaging with the data, searching for
themes, reviewing them, and defining and naming them, each collaborator’s theme is listed in the
following chapter. This method acknowledges the researchers’ role in identifying themes, so
throughout the process, I attempted to ensure that the themes developed were rooted in the explicit
content and latent ideas underlying their expressions. Following this, I performed the same process
across the collective of interviews, searching for common themes to understand and integrate
shared meanings and reinforcing the connections among the stories. The recurrent themes are

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among all the collaborators in this research dealt with cultural revitalization and resurgence,
Intergenerational Transmission of Knowledge, Personal Transformation and Healing; Community,
Cultural Integrity, Environment and Landscape Leadership, Empowerment and Political and
Social Activism. All of these will be discussed in the findings and discussion chapter.
I navigated the stories shared with me with sensitivity and respect, recognizing the power
dynamics in the research context and being mindful of the power dynamics between myself as a
non-Indigenous researcher and Indigenous collaborators. Trying to address these imbalances, I
adopted a collaborative and inclusive approach, seeking and valuing collaborators’ input,
guidance, and wisdom of collaborators. This included involving them in encouraging their
feedback and review of transcripts on their narratives’ themes and incorporating their suggestions.
This strategy attempted to ensure their voices were heard and prioritized, aligning with the abovementioned ethical commitment.
This methodological approach offered a path responsive to the nuanced complexities of the
Tribal Canoe Journeys and the canoe. As knowledge and metaphorical methodological framework,
the canoe facilitated an immersion into the lived experiences of those who engage with it, guiding
the research towards a more contextualized understanding and highlighting the importance of
listening to and learning from Indigenous voices about resurgence and resistance – and the canoe
itself. By connecting theoretical principles around resurgence, decolonization, and the practice of
canoeing with ethical research practices, my methodology emphasizes dialogue and respects the
autonomy and agency of Indigenous collaborators.

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Chapter four: Results, analysis, discussion.
I conducted seven interviews, two in loco and five online, scheduled according to the
collaborators’ preferred days, times, and online platforms. Seven interviews can provide rich, indepth qualitative data, especially when the goal is to explore individual experiences and
perspectives in detail. This number of collaborators allows for sufficient variation in responses
while still being manageable for a Master’s thesis, ensuring that the researcher can deeply analyze
each interview. With seven collaborators, recurring themes and patterns are likely to emerge,
which is a key indicator of data saturation in qualitative research. Additionally, a focused
collaborator pool enables a more thorough exploration of specific research questions, which
contributes to the credibility and depth of the findings.
Each session began with the Informed Consent and authorization to record the audio using
voice recorders. During the interviews, collaborators were informed that I had some questions that
I would like to ask but that I did not necessarily need to ask them. These various questions were
tailored to the discussed topic and modified as I engaged with the collaborators, and all
conversations started with: “tell me about yourself, your origins, and how it relates to canoes and
to Canoes Journeys.” The sessions concluded when the storytelling ended, with a final question
about whether they wished to add anything further, agreeing that I would send the interview
transcreation and the option for a follow-up conversation. The other two interviews were
conducted on-site at the workshops of two master carvers. This setting allowed a deeper
understanding of their perspectives on their craft within their natural environment, surrounded by
their forest, materials, tools, machines, and artworks, including canoes, totems, masks and many
other wooden art forms.

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Table 1
Collaborator
Background Info
Robert
Member of the Muckleshoot
Indian Tribe. His people originate
from the greater Seattle area to the
Cascade Mountains and the Salish
Sea. He has ancestral ties to canoe
building and travel. Father of three
paddlers, became involved in
Canoe Journeys in 2003.
Carol
Member of the Quinault Indian
Nation Indian Tribe. Reconnected
with canoe culture around 2010
and has participated ever since.
Lauri

Member of the Makah Tribe, her
traditional name means “people
that watch you dance.” Has
participated in canoe journeys
since 1997. Mother of a vast
family of paddlers.

John

Member of the Qualicum First
Nation. Ancestral name means “a
place where you never go
hungry”. A skipper of the canoe
family, Lives on Vancouver Island
and is involved in canoe journeys
since 2009-2010.
Member of the Tla-o-qui-aht First
Nations, experienced master
carver with ancestral knowledge
of
canoe/totem
pole/masks
making.

Joe

Carl

Member of the Tla-o-qui-aht First
Nations, experienced master
carver with ancestral knowledge
of
canoe/totem
pole/masks
making.

Notable Experiences
Became a Skipper by the end of his first
journey and has been involved in TCJ for over
20 years, leading him to a position of tribal
Culture Director. Discusses the critical role of
Canoe Journeys in cultural revitalization,
leadership development, and community
building.
Discusses the logistical and financial
challenges of organizing TCJ. Emphasizes the
cultural, spiritual, and healing benefits of
participation and the role of canoe journeys in
strengthening family and community bonds.
Experienced profound emotional healing
through canoe journeys after significant
personal losses and emphasizes the cultural and
spiritual significance of the journeys for her
and her family. Reflects on the differences
between past and present journeys, criticizing
commercialization.
Describes how canoe journeys helped him
recover from substance abuse and become a
community leader. Discusses the challenges
and rewards of being a skipper and the
importance of cultural revitalization through
canoeing.
Emphasizes the role of traditional canoe
carving in cultural revitalization and
intergenerational knowledge transmission and
adhering to traditional protocols, such as
harvesting wood in the fall and winter. Talks
about teaching younger generations and the
challenges involved. Has made numerous
canoes for different communities along the
coast.
Involved in the canoe-making process with his
brother Joe, including a current project in their
shop. Highlights the collaborative nature of
their work and the importance of maintaining
traditional methods. Discusses the practical
aspects of canoe building, such as using

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Mark

Member of the Muckleshoot
Indian Tribe, and cultural arts
educator.

specific tools and techniques for ensuring
safety and durability.
Teaches traditional arts, history, and language
to the community. Involved in canoe building
and cultural preservation, highlighting the
importance of safety and traditional methods
in canoe making. Works in a grant program
with a team to build and teach traditional
skills.
Table: Collaborator Overview

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Analysis
In this section, I summarize each interview’s themes, prefaced by a standout statement
from each collaborator that left a significant impression on me and that encapsulates an essential
aspect of their perspective in relation to aspects of the theoretical discussion presented 7. The
analysis is organized around each interview’s main topic and themes. If a quote is from someone
other than the specific collaborator, this will be explicitly noted. This format ensures that the reader
can easily identify the participant’s contributions while preserving the clarity of voices throughout
the analysis. After presenting the individual analysis, I will synthesize the common themes that
emerged across all interviews. By integrating these common themes, I aim to reinforce the
connections among the stories and provide a cohesive understanding of the collective experiences
of the collaborator. Everything in italics comes from the interviews.
Robert
It’s something you cannot replicate inside of a classroom. It
is a lived experience. I think it’s just such an empowering
experience process for us, personally, culturally, spiritually,
and emotionally, because of what it does for our people in
the sense of accomplishment, the sense of pride, and the
work that goes into it.
Robert, a respected leader and advocate from the Muckleshoot Tribe, offers his insights
into the profound understanding of the cultural revitalization efforts surrounding the Tribal Canoe
Journeys (TCJ). Through his words, we encounter the importance he gives to the journeys and
their vital role in reclaiming Indigenous identity, promoting connections between communities
and reviving almost lost traditions. His narrative focuses on the complex interplay of history,

7

The standout statement will be italicized and aligned to the right, emphasizing it. These quotes highlight the unique
viewpoints of each collaborator while offering a thematic connection between the interviews and the broader
framework of the research.

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community, and resurgence as he articulates the deep emotional, cultural, and spiritual significance
of the TCJ for the Coast Salish peoples, along with the challenges posed by the colonial disruption
of these practices and the enduring strength and adaptability of his community.
The first theme in Robert’s story is cultural revitalization and resurgence. For him, the
Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) had a pivotal role in the cultural revitalization of Coast Salish
communities. He discusses how canoes are important in Indigenous life, with ocean travel being a
core element of cultural expression and survival. However, settler-colonial structures led to a
decline in these practices, and canoeing became dormant due to colonization and external
pressures: “There is a long history of canoe and ocean-going travel dating back thousands of years.
As the intrusion process increased in the Pacific Northwest, that practice became less and less.”
For him, the revival of canoeing in 1989 with the Paddle to Seattle represents the reawakening of
this cultural practice and the reclamation of sovereignty and identity. With the journeys, these
practices have been reclaimed. They are now central to the cultural and communal life of the Coast
Salish peoples, marking TCJ as a transformative process of cultural resurgence. The revival of
these traditions represents a significant cultural reclamation, contributing to their identity and selfdetermination.
By navigating larger waters and reconnecting to ancestral practices, the TCJ has become a
pillar of Indigenous resurgence. Robert further elaborates on the transformative impact of the TCJ
in reigniting practices, especially among younger generations who had no direct experience with
these traditions prior to their revival. He emphasizes the event’s exponential growth and ability to
promote tribal reconnection, stating: “Now it’s a very, very large event. Hosting the event is a
massive undertaking, but we’ve seen a significant reconnection of our Coast Salish Tribes and how
we interact.”

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This reconnection is more than a cultural revival; it is also a reclamation of social and
political relationships among Coast Salish tribes, reinforcing governance systems and protocols.
Hosting and participating in the TCJ requires engaging in protocols and further embedding cultural
sovereignty within the daily practices of these communities.
Robert’s observations point out how the journeys brought back the art of canoe-making
and travelling and vital cultural elements such as language, ceremonial practices and clothing,
dancing and singing. This resurgence is framed as a holistic and transformative experience, with
Robert emphasizing that participation in the TCJ is not merely about recreating a tradition but
engaging in “active history”—a lived, experiential practice that cannot be replicated in classrooms.
The intensive physical, cultural, and spiritual preparation required ingrains a profound sense of
accomplishment and pride, illustrating these journeys’ personal and communal impacts. This
reflection captures the immersive nature of the TCJ, where participants engage with their heritage
on multiple levels—physically through canoeing, spiritually through rituals and offerings, and
culturally through the revitalization of traditions: “Personally, for me, participation in the Journeys
is a centering. For us and our peoples, and those who participate in this way of life culturally, the
Journeys are an engagement in active history for our people. It’s once more an engagement in
cultural revitalization of language, protocols, ancestral ways of travel and how we interact with
each other”. For him, these journeys serve as a form of resistance to colonial impositions that
sought to erase these practices, reinforcing the idea that cultural practices like canoeing are integral
to both personal identity and the collective resilience of Indigenous communities.
Intergenerational transmission of knowledge is another central theme in Robert’s
reflections: the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) are crucial in passing down cultural traditions to
younger generations. Canoeing, for him, is not just a physical practice but a medium through which

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cultural values, leadership, and community resilience are embodied. Robert talks with pride about
his children’s involvement in these journeys, emphasizing how they have grown up immersed in
the practice from an early age, reflecting the connection between family and tradition, as nextgeneration engagement is what will ensure their preservation. This reflects the concept of
Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH), in which individuals and communities maintain and transmit
living traditions. By continuing to pass down these practices through family and community, the
TCJ helps ensure that these cultural expressions remain vital and relevant across generations,
preserving the physical act of canoeing and its cultural and spiritual knowledge.
It also shows the significance of the TCJ as an educational platform where younger people
learn through experience, taking on leadership roles while being guided by elders. Robert describes
how the younger generation took traditions further and contributed to evolving cultural
expressions, which indicates the adaptability of these traditions and the dynamicity of Indigenous
cultures: “Our younger generation has taken up another type of canoe journeys, that is called jam
sessions, where they get together and sing and dance...” Cultural practices continue to grow and
adapt within the community, reflecting contemporary Indigenous experiences. Cultural
transmission is not static but dynamic, as the younger generation brings new energy into these
practices with cultural expressions that resonate with the present while connected to the past.
Leadership is another significant aspect of this intergenerational process. Robert notes that
those who grew up with the TCJ are now taking on leadership roles: “I’m so excited to see people
that I knew as children are now in leadership roles.” This sense of continuity between generations
ensures that cultural leadership is passed down in a way that remains connected to community
values, respect for elders, and a commitment to maintaining cultural integrity. Thus, the TCJ

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strengthens the ties between tradition and modernity, allowing younger leaders to take on
responsibilities while grounded in their ancestors’ teachings.
Moreover, Robert reflects on how the physical practices of canoe-making have also
adapted to modern circumstances. He describes the challenges imposed by the scarcity of
traditional materials, such as old-growth cedar, and how the community has responded with new
canoe construction methods: “About 20 years ago, our carvers created a hybrid model where you
create strip canoes... They can produce more canoes out of a single tree.” This blend of tradition
and innovation once again shows the community’s creativity and dynamicity in the attempt to
ensure that canoe-making continues even with environmental limitations. Through canoeing and
canoe-making, his community exemplifies how cultural practices can evolve without losing their
core significance by adapting to new techniques while honouring traditional craftsmanship.
In recounting his journey, Robert shares how his TCJ participation has shaped his own
leadership within the Muckleshoot Canoe Family. Starting in 2003 as a participant, he quickly took
on the role of a skipper, guiding canoes and assuming responsibilities that led to him becoming the
Culture Director for his people. This personal narrative reflects how roles within the TCJ can
evolve into formal leadership positions, bridging the cultural and professional realms through a
deep connection to their history:
I think it also creates leaders within our community because they feel much so much more
grounded, more well-rounded in who they are as Native people, and living in a
contemporary lifestyle, but being able to access their history and their culture and ancestral
ways of being in a way that wasn’t previously available.

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For Robert, the TCJ has been a cultural practice and a pathway to formal leadership,
demonstrating the impact of these journeys on both individual and community development.
Robert then emphasizes the significance of the bonds formed through and on the TCJ,
describing how the cooperative nature of these journeys brings a sense of closeness and unity: “the
bonds you create in a journey, having that cooperation process, you really get close, out in the
water, depending on each other.” These interpersonal relationships, formed through the shared
experience of navigating the water, are essential for sustaining cultural practices and ensuring their
transmission to future generations.
Challenges and empowerment are central to Robert’s reflections about the Tribal Canoe
Journeys (TCJ). He emphasizes the physical, logistical, and financial difficulties that both
participants and host communities face. He sees these challenges, however, as obstacles but also
opportunities for empowerment, particularly for the youth and community leaders, who find pride
and strength in overcoming them. He points to the need for solidarity among nations, particularly
in ensuring that those with fewer financial resources can still participate and host. This reflects the
interconnectedness of Coast Salish communities, with wealthier nations stepping in to assist
smaller or economically struggling ones, thus trying to keep the TCJ inclusive and accessible. For
him, this collaboration is essential for sustaining the journeys as a shared cultural experience and
an organizational effort.
Robert acknowledges that hosting the TCJ is a massive undertaking, requiring extensive
economic and logistical resources. He expresses concern about how the rising costs of participation
and hosting may lead to smaller, more traditional events, as the scale of the event can be prohibitive
for many communities: “One of the challenges for Indigenous communities now is that we have
very limited possibilities of who can host that Travel Canoe Journey. If they don’t have the

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economic resources, it’s very, very challenging!” In this statement, he not only addresses the
financial aspect but also the logistical concerns, from providing sanitary facilities to ensuring the
safety of participants. This balancing act between tradition and modern practicality becomes a
powerful source of empowerment as communities rise to meet these challenges while staying true
to their cultural values.
At the same time, Robert reflects on the internal challenges within the community,
particularly in terms of cultural preservation and economic stability. He highlights initiatives to
support carvers, ensuring they can focus on their craft while having a stable livelihood, which can
be challenging for younger people to engage while struggling financially. This underscores the
role of economic empowerment in maintaining cultural practices and underlines the need for
sustainable models that allow these traditions to continue.
The challenge of physical distance from the water adds another layer to the empowerment
narrative. The demarcation of reservations forced the Muckleshoot and other nations away from
their traditional waterways, cutting them from their vital connection to the water. Robert explains
how their current location on a plateau created a physical and symbolic distance from the saltwater,
which is historically central to their identity as ocean-going travelers. However, through the TCJ,
this connection has been reestablished: “For us, the journeys have reestablished that connection
and changed that perspective of who we are as saltwater and ocean-going travelers.” Though full
of challenges, this reconnection has reinforced their sense of identity and place within the broader
Coast Salish cultural landscape.
Ultimately, Robert’s reflections emphasize the profound cultural and spiritual significance
of overcoming these challenges because, for him, empowerment lies not only in the physical act
of participating in the TCJ but also in the community’s commitment and adaptability in navigating

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economic and cultural obstacles. The TCJ, therefore, is a symbol of survival, material and cultural
resistance, and empowerment for Indigenous communities reclaiming their heritage and their place
in a world shaped by colonial dislocation. This transmission of cultural knowledge and the deep
sense of community involved in the TCJ aligns with the principles of ICH, where living traditions
like canoe-making are preserved and continuously adapted and reshaped by the experiences of
each generation. By attempting to overcome these challenges collectively, the community aims for
the journeys to remain a vital living practice, marked by its historical significance and the evolving
contributions of its people.
Robert’s considerations on the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) also explore the environmental
and spiritual connections embedded in these experiences. He explains how participating in the
journeys offers a perspective that reshapes participants’ relationship with ancestral lands and
waters, noting how the experience of seeing the landscape from the water fundamentally alters the
relationship with the environment:
Once I started participating in the canoe journey, it shaped my perspective on our homeland
because I’m now seeing it from the water perspective. As a sailor, you see it much
differently than if you’re just travelling on the highways, travelling on the land. Seeing it
from the water perspective reshaped my whole thinking of this place, this truly amazing
place on Earth. I don’t know if I’ve been a world traveller, but I’ve been around and it
really is an amazing place because of how beautiful it is, and you also get the chance to get
out of the noise and out of the pollution. You have that connection to the water, which
really reshapes your lens.
This profound experience, moving through ancestral waters, brings people out of the
pollution and noise of modern life and connects them to nature and their homelands. Canoeing and

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being on the water revives and reinforces a holistic connection between humans, their
environment, and the spiritual world, embodying the principles of interdependence central to
several Indigenous knowledge systems in which land and water are active, and the environment is
not separate from culture but an integral part of it. This resonates with Robert’s perspective that
seeing the land from a different point deepens the understanding of place and belonging, of the
relationship between the people and their environment.
Beyond the environmental aspect, Robert underscores the shared experiences of
colonialism and the spiritual and cultural connections across Indigenous water travelers, not only
within the Coast Salish but globally. “What we do, and how we travel, the stories are so similar to
our relatives in Hawaii and in New Zealand, especially that shared story of colonialism and how
we survive.” The journeys connect Indigenous communities across borders and reflect a shared
strength in the face of colonial disruption. This unity becomes a lived expression of resistance,
reinforcing collective identity and shared cultural memory across the Pacific.
Robert also reflects on the role of the TCJ in broader political and social activism. The
skills, unity, and networks learned within the journeys go beyond cultural revitalization, often
becoming motivations for political action, such as using canoes in protests against environmental
destruction or in solidarity with other global Indigenous movements. These acts of activism
highlight how the collective strength built through cultural practices like the TCJ is integral to
advocating for social justice and environmental sovereignty. This resonates with broader
Indigenous movements worldwide, where traditional practices, ceremonies, and rituals have
become powerful forms of resistance to colonial oppression and environmental harm, as in my
country. Indigenous groups continue to reclaim their cultural heritage as a means of identity and a
platform for political resistance and resilience. By bringing together the environmental, spiritual,

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and activist dimensions of the TCJ, Robert’s reflections show how canoeing is a symbol of cultural
resurgence and a tool for social and political struggle.
Carol
Also, about identity, I would say I had always been
searching, and I didn’t know what I was searching for.
And what I like to share with people is that being on a
canoe journey, travelling the ancestral highway, I felt
connected to the land, the water, and the animals. I felt
connected to the ancestors. I like to share with people
that the culture, teachings, and traditions of canoe
journey fed my spirit. And it helped me heal. I get
emotional talking about it; it has such an impact on my
life.
Carol’s reflections echo the profound themes of cultural revitalization, healing, and
community interconnectedness that have emerged through the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ). For
her, besides the embodied experience of canoeing together, the journeys are profound cultural and
personal experiences that rekindle her identity and deepen her connection to her heritage. The
canoe journeys provided a platform for personal and collective healing through individual and
community growth.
As Carol recounts her initial involvement in the journeys, she describes how it became a
turning point in her life, reshaping her sense of belonging:
I’ll start by talking about how it happened, reconnecting with canoe culture, because, you
know, it’s a part of our DNA, our blood memory, our ancestral ties and lineage. But
officially, […] I met someone at the school who talked about their canoe family and making
giveaway gifts. I just offered to help with the gifts, so they invited me to the canoe family
meeting. And that night, the […] leader of the canoe family, asked me to pull in their canoe
with them.

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This passage encapsulates the openness and welcoming nature of the canoe family, a
recurrent theme in Carol’s narrative. Her description of being immediately embraced into the
community demonstrates the strength of shared cultural practices and how these journeys include
and reconnect, not only with others but also with herself.
For Carol, being enrolled in the Quinault Indian Nation and having grown up in Renton
(outside of Seattle), Washington, the sense of identity these experiences evoke is intrinsically
linked to her engagement in these journeys. She explains how travelling with several canoe
families, beginning with the Muckleshoot, has enriched her understanding of her heritage and
strengthened her sense of belonging: “The canoe journeys strengthened my sense of identity and
community.” This reinforces the cultural revival aspect of the TCJ, which suggests rekindling
cultural practices, reshaping personal identity, and building inter-community bonds across nations.
Carol also emphasizes the role of family within these practices. Her children’s participation
illustrates the importance of intergenerational transmission of knowledge. Her youngest child, who
embarked on a canoe journey at just three weeks old, embodies this, reinforcing how canoe
journeys are family-centred cultural events that pass knowledge across generations. Carol’s
understanding of the canoe family as “one heart, one mind, one spirit” also reflects Indigenous
kinship systems where cultural practices can be tied to family and community bonds.
Despite growing up outside her reservation, she shares childhood memories of feeling
connected to the land and waterways. Floating down rivers as a child, she instinctively felt the
presence of villages without being told: “In my mind, in my spirit, I could feel villages without
anyone telling me. But on that first canoe journey, that came back.” The journeys gave meaning
to these memories, affirming to her that her connection to the land had always been part of her.

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Through this reflection, Carol illustrates the spiritual and ancestral connections the canoe
journeys promote. For her, paddling together was a profound experience of spiritual and ancestral
healing. Moving through the same waters as her ancestors evokes a connection that transcends
time. Carol recounts the transformative experience of her first canoe journey, describing how it
shifted her perspective from a more scientific, Western mindset to one grounded in spiritual
practice: “Before my first canoe journey, I was more scientific, I used more my Western mind.
That first night, I prayed for the people, for the canoe, for the strength to be able to make the trip
from one reservation to the next. The next day, I felt a strength that I had never felt before.” This
spiritual awakening brought her closer to her ancestors and taught her to honour and nurture her
connection with both the physical and spiritual worlds.
For Carol, the connection to her heritage through TCJ was intellectual, emotional and
spiritual. She recalls a mystical moment during one of her canoe journeys where she heard
ancestral songs, reinforcing her spiritual connection to her people’s land and history:
We were pulling on the southern tip, near the southern tip of this Island, and I heard a song.
I looked around and I’m like, “who’s singing?” I hear like jingles that I never heard before...
But I was looking around, and nobody else could hear this song.
This experience connected her to the land’s ancestral spirits, where past and present, land
and spirit, can come together in transformative ways. She Continues about the mysterious songs
she heard:
The next day we were pulling past that same point and one of my companions, who works
in the archeological field, asked if anyone heard the song. I was pretty shy; I never speak
up. But when he asked if anyone heard the song, someone remembered me hearing it the
day before and told him that. He said that there was an archeological site there, there was

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a landslide and there were objects found, possibly remains and other things that were found
but I can’t remember everything. So those are the kind of special things that happened for
me on canoe journey.
More than vessels, canoes carry stories, songs, and experiences passed down through
generations. This experience speaks to the power of these journeys in reclaiming Indigenous
heritage and ensuring its survival through lived, embodied practices that bridge past and present.
The impact of canoe journeys on language and cultural revitalization is also relevant in
Carol’s story. Participation in these journeys inspired her to engage more deeply with her cultural
roots, from learning languages like Quinault and Lushootseed to taking up traditional crafts such
as cedar weaving and paddle making. “From that canoe journey, I think it just planted the seed to
learn even more...” This exemplifies the broader educational and cultural skill development
benefits of the journeys, contributing to revitalizing Indigenous knowledge systems. She adds,
I even started my first cedar paddle, which I haven’t finished yet. But really it just opened
this world up to the culture and I’ve never looked back, it is now in my day-to-day life, I
work teaching or helping urban natives to reconnect, helping urban natives with ailments
through traditional medicine. It really changed my life.
This highlights the profound and lasting impact that participation in Tribal Canoe Journeys
and being part of canoe families has had on her life, deeply intertwining cultural practices with her
daily experiences and professional work.
Carol also discusses the practical challenges of organizing and participating in these
journeys, particularly for smaller nations, considering the significant financial and logistical
hurdles, such as feeding thousands of people during week-long celebrations and securing time off

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work for participants, so having an understanding and supportive workplace is fundamental, which
is not always the case:
Another challenge I think community faces is having people in their jobs be understanding
to the importance of the ceremony. I’m very fortunate, because I work in the tribal
organization and there are some tribes that offer cultural leave. But I know people from the
community that aren’t able to take the time off for canoe journeys, which is a challenge.
She recognizes and reflects on the broader systemic obstacles many Indigenous
communities and individuals face in maintaining their cultural practices in the face of modern
work demands and economic constraints.
Health and wellness are additional dimensions that Carol emphasizes as benefits of the
journeys for participants and crew that experience a renewed sense of health and well-being
through their involvement: “the reconnection, meeting others, connecting with other tribes, other
people, the learning opportunities!” For her, journeys are spaces for holistic healing, wellness
promotion, and community building, stressing the wide-reaching impact that the TCJ has on
individual and collective well-being.
Carol shares her thoughts about the future of the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ). With hopes
for greater engagement, she envisions a future where their significance is more widely understood
and respected, not only within Indigenous circles but also by the broader public. Public education
is vital for this and can enable wider audiences to appreciate and support the values and traditions
embedded in the TCJ. Through consistent participation since 2011, Carol remains committed to
the journeys’ ongoing cultural and educational significance.
In considering the future, Carol also touches on cultural sovereignty’s challenges, a crucial
yet complex topic that demands thoughtful and informed discussions. She acknowledges the

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intricacies involved in balancing sovereignty with external influences and expectations. She
considers it important to approach these discussions carefully, ensuring that the nuances of
sovereignty are addressed in ways that protect the cultural integrity of Indigenous practices,
including the canoe journeys. For Carol, these conversations are about legal or political
sovereignty and ensuring that the cultural and spiritual essence of the journeys—and their
traditions—are preserved and honoured.
The need for careful dialogue echoes broader themes in the TCJ, where cultural revival,
intergenerational knowledge transmission, and community-building intertwine with the practical
realities of maintaining sovereignty over Indigenous cultural practices in a modern, interconnected
world. As Carol emphasizes, safeguarding the journeys’ future requires not only participation but
also a shared understanding of their significance.
John
The canoe lives in my yard, and I take care of it! It’s on
this trailer for most of the year. This past year was one
of the longest times that went out for in two years. I didn’t
know how to drive a trailer, and my uncle told me “This
is what you do. This is what you do” and he really just
taught me this just very quickly, and I love driving that
new trailer anywhere now. The canoe has always taught
me, it’s taught me a lot of knowledge tasks, and
everything it’s given me. I’ve gained a ton of knowledge
from skipping the canoe because it’s not just skipping the
canoe. There’s just so much to it. I’m in charge of the
crew, setting practices, this past Journey, for example,
we just went for it with no training! That was it, just go!
John, a canoe skipper from the Qualicum Nation on Vancouver Island, shares his personal
transformation process through the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ). Becoming a part of a canoe
family ultimately helped him heal from addiction and reconnect with his Indigenous identity. His
story touches on the themes of the healing power of the journeys, the responsibility he feels as a

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leader, and the broader impact of these cultural practices on personal growth and community
resilience.
John starts his story by sharing how the journeys were essential in his recovery from
substance abuse, especially for giving him a renewed sense of purpose and a healthier path
forward, which illustrates the journeys’ role in individual healing and personal development
through cultural revitalization. He recalls his initial reluctance and eventual embrace of the
challenge and responsibility of skippering a canoe, highlighting its transformative effect on him,
becoming a turning point in his life: “I didn’t know how to skip a canoe, and I told them I didn’t
want to. But then I went out and immediately fell in love with that whole challenge...”
For John, the canoe journeys provided him with a constructive role in his community,
allowing him to channel his energy into something positive and meaningful, and were a pivotal
factor in turning him away from heavy drug and alcohol use. His journey from addiction to
becoming a community leader exemplifies how cultural practices such as the TCJ can promote
personal healing, leadership and resilience by rooting them in their land, waterways, songs and
protocols: “It really gave me that purpose that I was looking for and needed, as well as becoming
more of a role model for the community.”
John’s leadership role extends beyond skippering a canoe; it also includes being a role
model and promoting a drug- and alcohol-free lifestyle within his community. Through his
consistent participation in the journeys, John has become a reference in his community, only
missing one journey since he began. His transformation through the TCJ reflects the broader
empowerment these journeys can offer, reinforcing the idea that cultural revitalization has
tangible, life-altering impacts on individuals.

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John’s story underscores the impact of canoe journeys on reviving and strengthening
cultural identity as he describes his shift from feeling ashamed of his Indigenous identity to
embracing and celebrating it. Through paddling, he began reconnecting with his roots, further
deepened by snowboarding activities connecting him to the land. As John travels with his family,
he reflects on the ancestral landscapes, often imagining how these places might have looked precontact: “Whenever we go somewhere, we are always wondering how it looked like pre-contact
or back when there were tribes over there.” This sense of curiosity and reverence for the land
underscores the importance of re-engaging with Indigenous landscapes to restore cultural pride
and identity.
Moreover, John highlights the social and communal significance of the canoe journeys;
they are more than cultural events; they are foundational to building and reinforcing community
and family bonds. The journeys provide a space where individuals personally grow while
witnessing the transformation of others within the community, especially children who evolve into
leaders. John notes that children who once accompanied their parents are now taking charge,
leading the community in singing, drumming, or even skippering the canoe: “kids, you see your
friends with these babies and then you see them years later and these kids are taking charge and
either singing or drumming or skipping the canoe or paddling. It’s really just a way of life”. The
journeys serve as a living practice where knowledge, values, and leadership are passed down,
reinforcing the collective identity and strength of the community. Through these practices, the
canoe journeys embody the transmission of intangible cultural heritage, ensuring that cultural
connection can be sustained across generations.
John’s reflections highlight the practical navigational skills and the interaction with the
environment required for safe and successful travel within the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ). Since

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he began as a skipper for his nation’s canoe, he quickly developed a fascination with the
complexities of navigation, learning to read water and weather conditions, manage timing, and
coordinate the crew in response to various environmental challenges. His experience navigating
the seasonal winds and tides of the Qualicum territory—a name that itself reflects the relationship
between the land, the winds, and the salmon runs—illustrates this intricate connection between the
natural world and Indigenous cultural practices and knowledge. “Our territory is very windy, we
don’t have a lot of shelter or anything […] You really have to work with the wind and the tide, as
well as marine traffic.”
This statement emphasizes the critical role of Indigenous knowledge, such as Traditional
Ecological Knowledge (TEK), in navigating the land and waters, where understanding seasonal
patterns is vital. John’s attentiveness to environmental conditions reflects how deeply interwoven
these cultural practices are with the ecological landscape, a dynamic rooted in centuries of
Indigenous wisdom. The challenges of dealing with unpredictable natural elements and navigating
freighter ships, which take vast distances to stop, showcase the resilience and adaptability of
Indigenous communities as they harmonize ancient knowledge with contemporary realities.
John’s engagement with the environmental factors of wind, tide, and marine traffic
demonstrates not just a technical skill but a lived embodiment of ICH. His ability to adapt to
shifting conditions is rooted in the intergenerational transmission of knowledge, passed down
through stories, practices, and experiences over time. “You really got to time everything perfectly,”
he notes, stressing the importance of collaboration and respect for the forces of nature. These
journeys serve as a reconnection to the land, where participants must learn and respect the
teachings embedded in the environment.

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The challenges John faces are also a reminder of the ongoing cultural revival embedded in
the canoe journeys. Every paddle is a testament to the resilience of Indigenous peoples, who
continue to practice and adapt their traditional knowledge in a modern context. This embodiment
of TEK within the framework of the TCJ is a reflection of the cultural resurgence discussed in the
thesis. It reinforces how Indigenous communities are actively maintaining and evolving their
relationships with the land and water, as part of both personal healing and collective cultural
revival. The journeys are not only about navigation but about reinvigorating the cultural ties that
connect communities to their ancestral territories and Indigenous identities, highlighting how these
practices serve as both cultural and ecological education for future generations.
John’s reflection on the logistical challenges of the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) provides
insights into the complexities of organizing such a significant cultural event. Managing a crew,
ensuring safety, and navigating tricky waters adds layers of commitment that extend beyond the
physical act of paddling. His initial reluctance to take on the role of skipper and his inexperience
reflect the personal challenges that often accompany leadership roles in cultural practices. Yet,
over time, his experiences have taught him the importance of focus and preparedness. “We’ve
learned our lesson by not being distracted. We have a goal, and our goal is to get from Victoria to
Port Angeles, for example, and we need to go now!” His words highlight the balance between
immediate practical concerns and the broader cultural significance of the journeys. The logistical
challenges faced by skippers and participants reflect a deeper connection to the responsibilities
carried by Indigenous leaders, where the safety and success of the journey are intertwined with the
preservation and transmission of cultural knowledge.
Finally, John talks about the broader socio-political context, discussing the effects of
colonization on his community and the ongoing challenges related to identity and recognition by

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the government. He reflects on the historical context and changes to the landscape and
communities due to colonization: “Because of colonialism and how they wanted to eradicate
Indigenous people you can really see how it’s affected my community.” Colonialism’s lasting
impacts on Indigenous communities are deeply felt, particularly through the erasure and disruption
of identity and legal recognition. The imposition of colonial systems, such as the Indian Act in
Canada, sought not only to displace Indigenous peoples from their lands but also to undermine
their cultural and social structures. The loss of status for Indigenous individuals, especially through
policies like enforced blood quantum or discriminatory inheritance laws, has fractured many
communities. As a result, there are countless Indigenous youth and descendants who, due to the
colonial definition of “status,” are excluded from formal recognition by the government despite
their strong cultural and familial ties.
This exclusion can create a sense of disconnection for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous
individuals in mixed-heritage families, further complicating the process of cultural revitalization
and community building. It is a reminder of how colonial policies continue to marginalize and
divide Indigenous peoples, affecting not only their political and legal rights but also their identity
and sense of belonging. Yet, in spite of these challenges, many communities are working to reclaim
their identity, strengthen cultural ties, and challenge the restrictive frameworks imposed by
colonial systems, ensuring that cultural continuity and resurgence remain central to their futures.
Mark
Even before canoe journeys, tribal peoples like to get
together and party. That goes back to having potlatches
and stick games before our religions were outlawed. It’s
always been something, not just a coastal thing, but all
across the continent thing. Like our trade routes were
vast and it’s always been something that we’ve done and
we’ve done it before canoe journey. Stick games, there’s

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always been stick games. There are powwows, we’ve
always had powwows. We always find a way to keep that
community, that sense of who we are alive and we share
it. I think Canoe Journey has kind of awoken people to
our traditions and our history in this area.
Mark, a Muckleshoot tribal member, shares his journey of rediscovering and preserving
Indigenous art forms, particularly through his involvement with canoe-making and Tribal Canoe
Journeys (TCJ). Growing up surrounded by nature and the cultural practices of his people, Mark’s
connection to his heritage was deepened through his work in archaeology and anthropology, where
he encountered thousands of years of continuous Indigenous history. His dedication to cultural
preservation shines through as he discusses his role in revitalizing canoe-building techniques,
teaching traditional crafts, and engaging with his community. Mark’s narrative reflects how
cultural practices, like canoe building, carry more than paddlers and are a means of resistance,
revitalization, and community building. His insights offer a glimpse into the enduring power of
Indigenous knowledge systems and their role in cultural continuity and resurgence.
Mark’s reflections underscore the critical role that cultural revitalization and education play
in preserving Indigenous traditions, particularly through hands-on engagement with traditional
arts, history, and language. As a cultural arts educator for the tribe organizations alongside three
other people, he views his work as essential in safeguarding the knowledge of his ancestors,
ensuring that the younger generations continue to be connected to their heritage and carry it
forward. Regarding the transmission of knowledge, he emphasizes that “Tyson got to study under
our last living canoe maker, traditional canoe maker and they did two or three traditional
shovelnose canoes that were used on our waterways.”
Besides the scarcity of Western red Cedar, Mark refers to another challenge on making
dugout canoes: “Making one of those dugouts, there’s a lot more that goes into how it’s made and

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how it’s steamed open. You’ve got to understand how to do that and do it right for the canoe to
turn out the way it’s supposed to.” He then adds: “Whereas strips, like Will was telling you, you
can get a lot more material out of one log to make. So, with one log, you could probably get 20
canoes out of, versus two dugouts, if you turn it into strips and you have the right form.”
Regarding the shift in techniques for canoe building, Mark says:
The reason why we make strip canoes now is because, during the 19th century around
1880, when we’re being settled and Europeans were arriving, they saw how good the canoe
builders were. So, they took them from making traditional dugouts, which you would get
two canoes out of a log and they put them in shipyards where they would do slats and build
their boats, and they were really good at that. At that transitional period, we went from
dugouts to strips. Nowadays it’s more efficient, with the machinery we can get out of one
single log many canoes. It’s hard to find a log big enough to make a big canoe like that.
[…] and canoes were, and still are, the easiest way to get around in the Salish Sea and the
surrounding tributaries and rivers.
This shift in technique, driven by both environmental changes and settler influence, reflects
the adaptation to resource scarcity and the need for more efficient production. However, despite
these changes in construction methods, canoes have always played a central role in navigating the
Pacific Northwest’s challenging geography: “The canoes permitted ready communication among
the villages composing a tribal group, and they enabled travel and trade up and down the entire
coast” (Aboriginal Peoples and Aboriginal Claims, p7). In Mark’s narrative, there is a focus on
the enduring importance of canoes for travel, trade, and connection, especially in the Salish Sea
and surrounding rivers, speaking to the deep cultural and practical significance of these vessels
across generations.

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Mark’s dedication to cultural education goes beyond teaching skills; it is about fostering
a sense of pride and resilience in the face of historical erasure. His role as an educator becomes a
form of resistance against colonialism, as it revives nearly forgotten practices and strengthens the
cultural identity of his community: “My job is to teach our community about our traditional arts
and art form, our traditional ways of life before colonization, our history, our language.”
Mark highlights the transformation of this shop from a storage barn into a fully functional
cultural education centre supported by grants, showing the importance of financial support for
cultural projects, both to preserve traditions and provide economic benefits to the community:
“That’s how we’ve been slowly building the shop up and, and telling our story through visual arts
more. Not only that but getting paid to do it and bringing money back into the tribe.” Through
these initiatives, Mark can simultaneously preserve cultural heritage and contribute to his Nation’s
economic growth, reflecting the intersection of cultural and economic revival.
The space he has helped to create created in the community, an open-door shop where
traditional skills like carving, fishing, hunting, and meat processing can be learned, emphasizes
accessibility. The shop is a learning environment, a hub for cultural and social connection,
embodying the collective nature of Indigenous knowledge transmission: We just teach traditional
ways of life and things people want to learn, they can come here and learn. In this place, but not
only there, Mark fosters community solidarity by bringing people to engage with their culture
while passing down skills that have sustained their people for generations, emphasizing the
importance of spaces for cultural education.
Central to this cultural revitalization is canoe-making, a powerful symbol of reclaiming
Indigenous identity and resisting erasure. Mark’s narrative reveals how passing down canoecarving techniques has maintained a family’s unique tradition. This intergenerational transmission

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is central to the survival of the craft, with each generation ensuring that skills are not forgotten. By
teaching these methods, Mark and his community resist the cultural erasure imposed by
colonization.
Mark’s commitment to cultural preservation led him to explore his people’s history beyond
what he learned in school. His passion for understanding the true history of the Puget Sound region
and its Indigenous peoples led to a personal awakening that influenced his work and led him to a
path in pursuit of knowledge. This motivated him to visit museums and study traditional arts and
practices in depth, leading him to his current role as a cultural bearer and educator.
The diversity of Indigenous histories and practices is central to Mark’s understanding of
his role. He acknowledges the uniqueness of each nation’s traditions while highlighting the shared
heritage that unites them, especially through canoe carving. This recognition of diversity within
unity is key to cultural continuity, as each community’s unique knowledge contributes to the larger
Indigenous resurgence. “Even though they can look different, the actual science behind them and
how the traditional dugouts were made is very, very similar,” Mark observes, reinforcing the
interconnectedness of Indigenous cultural practices across the region.
For Mark, these practices have always been part of his everyday life, as he grew up fishing,
hunting, and using canoes as a primary means of navigating the Salish Sea and its tributaries. His
reflections underscore the importance of these practices in maintaining a connection to the land
and waters, grounding his identity in the cultural knowledge passed down through generations:
“It’s just part of the way of life. A part of growing up around here is being on the water, growing
up fishing, hunting, and canoes.”
His role as a cultural arts educator is fulfilling, allowing him to connect with his roots,
preserve cultural practices, and pass on this knowledge to future generations. This work is both a

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personal passion and a professional commitment, reflecting his connection to his cultural identity
and heritage: “I worked in preservation, which is archeology and anthropology, about 20 years
ago. Just working in that and going out on dig sites and seeing 10,000-year-old sites where you
can see continuous use of that area”. He describes his professional and intellectual path towards
figuring out “not the story that we’re taught in school, but actually the real history of the area”,
which he declares to have awakened his spirit. Mark is also intrinsically part of the
intergenerational transmission of knowledge since his role involves passing down what he has
learned to younger generations, ensuring the continuation of these cultural traditions. He
emphasizes the importance of this intergenerational learning within the community, particularly
through the practice of canoe carving and other traditional arts.
Mark’s dedication to preserving vanishing materials like old-growth cedar further
exemplifies his attempt to ensure future generations can experience the same connection to their
cultural heritage. His efforts to balance tradition with sustainability highlight the ongoing
adaptation of cultural practices to contemporary challenges, ensuring that the wisdom of the past
remains alive and relevant for the future: “Part of what we do here is try to preserve that for our
future generations so they get to experience what it’s like to work with that. So, we try to expand
our materials and what we work with to go beyond just traditional. In that way, we can preserve
some of that for our future.”
Mark’s journey illustrates how cultural revival is not only about preserving the past but
also about creating a sustainable future. By blending traditional knowledge with modern
approaches to resource management, Mark ensures that the cultural practices he teaches remain a
living, evolving part of his community’s heritage, promoting an ongoing resurgence of Indigenous
identity. In that sense, he also talks about the adaptation of traditional canoe construction

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techniques to modern circumstances, merging tradition with innovation to ensure that cultural
practices evolve without losing their integrity. He explains the historical and practical reasons for
the shift from dugout canoes to strip canoes. During the late 19th century, European settlers
recognized the craftsmanship of Indigenous canoe builders and employed them in shipyards to
build boats using slats rather than traditional dugouts: “They took them from making traditional
dugouts [...] and they were really good at that.”
This shift was also driven by the scarcity of large logs suitable for traditional dugouts,
particularly old-growth Western Red Cedar. Mark explains that “it’s hard to find a log big enough
to make a big canoe like that,” pointing to the environmental challenges that have made strip
canoes a more viable option. The use of modern materials and techniques, such as composite nails
and specific nail guns, has streamlined the process, making it faster while still honouring
traditional designs: “We’re able to get that many canoes done in that short of a time frame because
it would probably take two months just to make one of those if we were waiting for the glue to
dry.” Despite these challenges, the community’s commitment to cultural preservation and
empowerment is evident. Mark underscores the importance of ensuring that canoes are safe and
well-made, as they play a crucial role in community events and cultural practices.
Mark further describes the process of troubleshooting and refining their methods as they
built the canoes, showing the continuous learning involved in maintaining this craft in a modern
context. His team worked through challenges, adjusting techniques to ensure the canoes retained
their traditional form while adapting to the realities of modern materials and tools. By blending
passed-down knowledge with modern techniques, Mark and his team ensure that the practice of
canoe building remains relevant and sustainable to preserve cultural heritage and make it
accessible to future generations. The challenges of sourcing the materials they used to work with,

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like old-growth Western Red Cedar, highlight the intersection between cultural heritage and
environmental sustainability. According to Mark, the scarcity of such resources due to
deforestation and overharvesting threatens the continuity of traditional practices like dugout canoe
carving.
The process of adapting traditional canoe-making to modern materials and techniques is a
clear example of how intangible cultural heritage (ICH) evolves while staying true to its roots.
Canoe-building is not just a physical craft; it carries with it generations of stories, skills, and
cultural values that are passed down within communities. The shift from using old-growth Western
Red Cedar to modern methods like strip canoe techniques reflects how ICH is dynamic and
resilient, responding to environmental challenges and changing resources while still preserving the
cultural essence of the practice. Moreover, Mark brings millennium ancestral to fuse with Western
scientific knowledge in his research about canoe carving: “I’ve spoken with an ex-naval engineer,
and he broke it down to the science and the numbers. […] he really got into the specifics of why
they work the way they work and how much knowledge is actually in those canoes that were
made.” He concludes, “They’re a beautiful, beautiful thing, especially when they’re done right.
When they’re made right.”
Mark emphasizes the role of participating in canoe journeys in developing leadership skills
and strong community bonds, creating connections among participants within communities and
between different Indigenous groups, which is essential for sustaining cultural practices. The
journeys also serve as a way to build connections and integrate communities separated by colonial
intrusion, reinforcing the idea of shared cultural heritage and collective identity. Mark connects
the canoe journeys to a potlatch, a traditional system of wealth sharing and community building:
“It’s potlatch, you’re supposed to share your wealth [...] And that is essentially what the canoe

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journeys is: it is a big potlatch.” Through this cultural exchange, participants not only strengthen
existing bonds but also create new ones, forming an extended community that transcends
individual nations and reinforces the continuity of cultural practices. Set to launch during the
Paddle to Muckleshoot, Mark and his team built five strip canoes in just two months, intended to
be given as gifts: “and they were for the Tribes that were on the same treaty as us. From the five
canoes, one was given to Nisqually, one to the man who first taught our first cane family how to
skipper, two others to other Tribes and the fifth one was given to our youth”.
He describes how the knowledge of canoe-making was passed down to him:
The first canoe journey that we were a part of was the 1989 Paddle to Seattle. Cubby Starr
was Tyson’s teacher, and his father was Doc Starr. So, in 1989, Doc Starr taught his son
Cubby how to carve a canoe. And Cubby kept that tradition alive by teaching Tyson, my
cousin, how to carve. And Tyson carved a canoe, then Tyson showed me how to carve a
canoe.
From this transmission, that happened in his family but also in others in similar ways, he
concludes: “That thanks to their efforts their style of canoe still exists and will be passed down and
not forgotten. So, I can understand that being a form of resistance. It’s not something that was just
in the past. It’s something that’s still happening today”.
Mark’s personal journey in canoe carving and participation in the journeys has allowed
him to meet and learn from many respected figures in the Indigenous community. The sense of
accomplishment and pride that comes from participating in the journeys also helps individuals gain
a deeper connection to their heritage, empowering them to become versatile and engaged leaders.
This leadership development is essential for ensuring the survival and growth of cultural traditions,
as it nurtures the next generation of cultural stewards.

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Despite the significant achievements in cultural preservation, Mark highlights several
challenges faced by his community, such as economic constraints, limited access to traditional
materials, and the technical difficulties of canoe construction. However, the community continues
to innovate and adapt to ensure the sustainability of its cultural heritage. Mark also reiterates the
importance of potlatch as a model for collective support, advocating for wealthier nations to assist
those with fewer resources. This inclusive approach helps ensure that all communities, regardless
of economic standing, can participate in the canoe journeys: “I would like to really be able to see
all the groups come together to support smaller tribes [...] so that each of them can have that
experience.” This call for solidarity stresses the role of canoe journeys in community building,
where mutual support and collective empowerment are central.
Joe, Carl and Clayoquot Sound
When Europeans arrived here, certainly we were
illiterate; we could not read some things, we were not
able to read any of that stuff. But so were the Europeans
when they arrived here. They were also illiterate when
they saw our totem poles. The totem poles that used to
sit in the front of every house. There used to be at least
four in the front of every house because of your (1) father
and your (2) mother, your (3) grandfather and (4)
grandmother. That’s how it was. Because every one of
them came with teachings.
In early February 2024, I travelled from Prince George to Clayoquot Sound, on the west
coast of Vancouver Island, within the traditional territory of the Nuu-chah-nulth people, to engage
with Joe Martin, a master carver known for his dedication to preserving indigenous carving
traditions and environmental advocacy, and with his brother Carl, also a master carver. After initial
communications through Facebook and phone, Joe invited me to discuss the cultural significance

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of his work. I spent a night in Vancouver, then caught an early ferry to Tofino, arriving in the area
by early afternoon.
Joe Martin has been at the forefront of environmental activism in Tofino for over three
decades, staunchly opposing industrial logging initiatives that threaten the ecological integrity of
Clayoquot Sound (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014). His advocacy is deeply intertwined with his craft,
as the preservation of old-growth forests is crucial not only for the environment but also for the
continuation of traditional carving practices. Living in Tofino, surrounded by the landscapes he
has fought to protect, Joe embodies a profound connection between his art and his activism. His
traditional name, Tutakwisnapšiƛ, meaning “the lightning in the sky,” symbolizes the intensity and
impact of his work:
My traditional name is Tutakwisnapšiƛ, and I’m Tla-o-qui-aht. I come from the house of
Ewos. Ewos is the name of our house. And the chief of our house is named Nuukmiis. And
Nuukmiis is his name. When Indigenous peoples, at least on Nuu-chah-nulth, when we
were talking about things, it is important to say them twice, so you remember it, so you
hear it. You hear it twice. Nuukmiis is the name of our chief. And Nuukmiis is his name.
That’s why I’ll say it like that. And it was the way that people would share information a
long time ago. They would always say things twice. When they were speaking of
something important, they would say it twice. Not just once, but twice.
Just as lightning strikes with force and precision, Joe’s advocacy for the preservation of
old-growth forests hits hard, underscoring the urgency of safeguarding the land for future
generations. His work exemplifies how ICH not only preserves traditions but also becomes a form
of resistance and empowerment, using the knowledge of the past to advocate for the future.

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Having provided a historical overview of the Coast Salish, it is equally important to offer
a similar perspective on the Nuu-chah-nulth to set the context for the following three collaborators
of this research, that are of Nuu-chah-nulth origin, a distinct language group belonging to the
Wakashan language family. In the following section, I will describe their environment and cultural
traits, following the approach used in my discussion of the Coast Salish in Chapter 1.
After the last Ice Age, approximately 10,000 to 12,000 years ago, the retreat of glaciers in
Clayoquot Sound initiated significant ecological transformations and ushered in new possibilities
for human habitation. As the ice receded, it exposed fertile landmasses and created diverse biomes
that supported a variety of life forms. The newly formed landscapes, characterized by rich coastal
estuaries and dense forests, attracted early human settlers. These first inhabitants, believed to have
migrated via the Beringia land bridge, followed the Coastal Migration Route, a path enriched by
abundant marine and terrestrial. This route likely included not only overland treks but also
maritime pathways along the emerging, ice-free coastlines, allowing for the establishment of
vibrant communities that harnessed the bounty of the region (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014).
The village of Opitsat, which can be seen from Tofino Harbour, exemplifies the long-term
human presence in Clayoquot Sound, having been continuously inhabited for at least 2,000 years,
with archaeological and oral histories suggesting a human presence that may extend back as far as
4,200 years (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014), or according to what Joe mentioned as we were riding
his truck to see the canoe he wanted to show me, “a ten thousand-year village”. Before European
contact, the Indigenous population of what is now known as British Columbia was estimated to
number up to 250,000, with about 15,000 people living along the west coast of Vancouver Island.
These communities relied on their natural resources sustainably, particularly the red cedar, which
was indispensable for building canoes, houses, and crafting other vital items. This deep-rooted

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relationship with red cedar not only reflects sophisticated ecological management but also a
profound connection to the land, which provided for their cultural and physical survival (Horsfield
& Kennedy, 2014).
The local weather station reports that temperatures remain above freezing on average 364
days a year. This temperate climate supports a lush, moisture-rich environment that enhances the
region’s scenic beauty, drawing visitors from around the world. This climate also supports a rich
biodiversity, fostering both marine and terrestrial ecosystems that continue to thrive. The area’s
ability to attract tourists throughout the year has contributed to its economic vitality and has helped
raise awareness of its unique ecological and cultural history (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014).
The intricate tapestry of cultural history, ecological diversity, and geological formation
makes the region more than just a tourist destination—it stands as a living museum of natural
history and human resilience. The region’s landscape reflects the powerful and dynamic geological
forces that have shaped it over millions of years, from ancient volcanic activity to the rhythmic
cycles of glaciation and erosion (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014). This terrain is imbued with the rich
cultural heritage of the indigenous communities who have called it home for millennia. However,
Tofino is inside our tribal park inside of Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Park and it’s our land... They
have taken over and removed much of the resources and disrupted the whole economy of
this place by the way they act and taking and taking and taking and that has really changed
this place drastically.
In this quote, Joe reflects a profound sense of loss and disruption in the Tla-o-qui-aht
community’s relationship with their traditional lands and adds: “There used to be only three lights
here”, talking about his lifetime and the changes that have happened to his environment. He
describes how external actors have taken over, exploited resources, and disrupted the local

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economy, drastically altering the community’s way of life and addressed the broader colonial
legacy of resource extraction on Indigenous lands, where the emphasis on economic gain has often
overridden the rights and sovereignty of Indigenous peoples. He continues: “There used to be all
kinds of fish in the ocean here. But now we don’t have hardly any, and the reason is because of
those rotten fish farms. I hate those things”.
The exploitation not only impacts the land but also disrupts the cultural and social fabric
of these communities. In response to such disruptions, Indigenous resurgence movements,
including the revival of Tribal Canoe Journeys, are critical acts of reclaiming identity, cultural
heritage, and sovereignty. The resurgence—or maintenance—of canoeing traditions, particularly
through initiatives like the Tribal Canoe Journeys, strengthens intergenerational knowledge
transmission, fostering the preservation of intangible cultural heritage. In this sense, canoe
journeys are a powerful embodiment of Indigenous resilience, symbolizing the connection to land,
water, and ancestors. Through these practices, Indigenous communities not only assert their rights
to protect their lands but also engage in cultural revitalization—or perpetuation— reaffirming their
identity and strengthening their social bonds. The resurgence of these traditions represents a
broader movement of Indigenous governance over land and cultural landscapes, where ICH
becomes central to restoring ecological and cultural balance.
Three Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations—the Hesquiaht, Ahousaht, and Tla-o-qui-aht—hold
ancestral territories within Clayoquot Sound, extending from the Hesquiat Peninsula to the
Kennedy River and Long Beach (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014). Historically, these lands were
managed by various groups and their hereditary chiefs, or Ha’wiih. The Nuu-chah-nulth tribes,
were officially recognized in 1978, signifying their shared linguistic and cultural connection to the
region stretching from Cape Cook to Jordan River, on the west coast of Vancouver Island. The

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Nuu-chah-nulth historically thrived in the rich natural environment of Vancouver Island’s western
coast, harnessing the abundance of cedar and salmon to sustain a dense population. As Joe told
me: “Sustainability is not enough for us. Our paradigm is made of abundance. Abundance of
resources and lives”.
Traditionally, the Tla-o-qui-aht and Ahousaht would relocate to summer fishing villages in
the spring, synchronizing their movements with the seasonal cycles of salmon that formed the
backbone of their diet and culture. These migrations allowed them to follow the fish, harvesting
and preserving vast quantities to sustain themselves through the winter months. This cyclical
journey was more than practical—it fostered communal ties, ensuring that each member played a
role in safeguarding the tribe’s well-being (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014).
Figure 24
Map of Vancouver Island Showing Tla-O-Qui-Aht.

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For the Nuu-chah-nulth, whale hunting also held a profound cultural significance.
Elaborate rituals and specialized techniques underscored the spiritual and communal importance
of the hunt (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014). The preparations often involved ceremonial cleansing,
fasting, and prayers to ensure a successful outcome. The whale was considered a symbol of
ancestral power, and a successful hunt was a testament to the tribe’s harmony with nature. When I
asked Joe how canoe-making connects him to his ancestors and heritage, he shared:
The Nuu-chah-nulth canoe was one of the best ones. And so, you know, one of the things
that our people did do with them was in a 36-foot canoe, maybe 10 or 11 or 12-meter canoe,
they would have eight men and go out and hunt whales with those things. So, you know,
that’s a testament to where people would go offshore, about 15, 20 miles offshore for
hunting whales.
He then concluded that having that connection and being a part of the teachings give him
a sense of pride: “So, yeah, that makes me proud because we have those teachings from that kind
of a thing”.
Besides whales, salmon fishing marked a season of intense fishing and communal activity.
This period was crucial for preparing the tribes for the less abundant winter months. The Tla-oqui-aht and Ahousaht maintained a profound understanding of the local ecosystems, enabling them
to manage their food sources effectively. By employing practices such as selective harvesting and
rotation, they ensured the salmon population remained robust, preserving the community’s wellbeing and continuity. Their sustainable strategies contributed to the resilience of local salmon
populations over centuries, allowing the fish to thrive alongside their cultural practices (Horsfield
& Kennedy, 2014). This aligns with something Joe shared with me, which I later I learned was one
of his mottos: “one of the teachings in our totem poles is that Mother Nature will provide for our

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needs, but not our greed. So, and that’s why the people have had these laws that were adhered to”.
For Joe, these teaching “that have been passed on through many generations”, guide how his
people should interact with the land, not as mere inhabitants but as an integral part of it.
Western economic pressures have introduced significant changes to the Nuu-chah-nulth
way of life. The arrival of canned meats and other goods initially met with laughter, eventually
signaled a shift in the community’s self-sufficiency and relationship with traditional foods. Over
time, this led to a paradigm shift where resources were seen more for their economic value than
their cultural or spiritual significance, deeply impacting the community’s values and lifestyle
(Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014).
The TCJ therefore articulates both a means of transportation and a symbolic reconnection
to the ancestral waterways and harvesting practices. Much like the rituals surrounding whale
hunting, the canoe journeys are imbued with spiritual and communal significance, including
protocols of welcome, song, and storytelling at each stop. These gatherings foster relationships
among different nations, and emphasize a shared connection to land, water, and cultural identity.
For the Tla-o-qui-aht, these journeys are a form of cultural resurgence, allowing them to pass on
traditional knowledge and reaffirm their ties to their heritage, which is crucial amid ongoing
environmental and economic pressures.
Storytelling and oratory played vital roles in preserving the history and laws of the Nuuchah-nulth people. These traditions were particularly alive during winter when communities
gathered for potlatches—ceremonial feasts where wealth was redistributed and social statuses
affirmed. Despite colonial efforts to suppress these gatherings, they remained a central aspect of
cultural and social life, demonstrating resilience and continuity.

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This is evident specifically around logging and salmon aquaculture, both of which have led
to significant disputes. The 1993 “War in the Woods” in Clayoquot Sound marked a significant
point of conflict over unsustainable logging practices, culminating in large-scale protests
supported by both Nuu-chah-nulth communities and environmental NGOs. In 1993, Clayoquot
Sound became the epicenter of a significant environmental showdown known as the “War in the
Woods.” This conflict was triggered by large-scale industrial logging plans that threatened the
ancient old-growth forests, vital to both ecological balance and the cultural heritage of the Nuuchah-nulth people. Environmental activists and members of the Nuu-chah-nulth tribes united in an
unprecedented series of protests that drew national and international attention. The resistance led
to temporary moratoriums and, eventually, more sustainable logging practices in the region
(Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014). Beyond the immediate environmental concerns, the Nuu-chah-nulth
utilized the protests as a stage to assert their rights and perspectives on land management. This
period marked a significant escalation in their legal and advocacy efforts, highlighting a deeprooted resistance to centuries of colonial exploitation.
Emerging from this conflict, Joe, his relatives and other members of the community built
a shack at the beach where they obstructed the disembarkment of workers from the logging
company MacMillan Bloedel, and started carving canoes there (Friends of Clayoquot Sound;
Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014; MacMillan Bloedel Ltd. v. Simpson, [1995] 4 S.C.R. 725; Wood,
2022). This canoe shack symbolizes the cultural resurgence of the Nuu-chah-nulth, and it is where
the ancient art of canoe building is not just preserved but celebrated as a cornerstone of identity
and autonomy. The shack serves as a communal hub where elders pass down knowledge to younger
generations, ensuring that the skills and spiritual connections associated with canoe craft endure.

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It stands as a testament to the community’s resilience, linking the fight for environmental justice
with the broader struggle for cultural survival and renewal.
Although the collaboration between the tribes and environmental NGOs ultimately forged
a stronger voice for indigenous stewardship in public and political arenas, the cooperation between
Nuu-chah-nulth communities and environmental NGOs has not been without tension. Accusations
of neocolonial attitudes by NGOs and short-lived alliances highlight the complexities of these
relationships, which have at times undermined the sovereignty and wishes of the Nuu-chah-nulth
people (Horsfield & Kennedy, 2014). These challenges underscore the delicate balance required
in environmental advocacy and indigenous rights protection.
One of the responses to these challenges include the declaration of Meares Island as a Tribal
Park in 1984, which marked a significant move towards reestablishing traditional management
practices. The declaration of Meares Island as a Tribal Park in 1984 marked a significant move
towards reestablishing traditional management practices. This, along with other conservation
efforts, demonstrates the Nuu-chah-nulth’s commitment to preserving their cultural heritage and
environmental ethics in the face of ongoing economic and environmental pressures (Horsfield &
Kennedy, 2014). The Ahousaht et al. v. Canada case, which may redefine fishing rights and
resource access, also reflects the community’s legal efforts to secure sustainable economic
practices while maintaining their traditional livelihoods (Ahousaht Indian Band and Nation v.
Canada, 2009 BCSC 1494).
As we further explore the life and contributions of Joe Martin, it becomes clear that his
work transcends simple craftsmanship. Through his voice, we gain insight into the profound
interconnectedness of cultural identity, environmental stewardship, and community resilience.
Martin’s reflections, drawn from a recent interview, reveal the depth of his engagement with

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traditional practices and their relevance in contemporary contexts. His narratives weave a rich
tapestry of Nuu-chah-nulth history and wisdom, highlighting the ongoing struggle to maintain
cultural integrity in the face of modern challenges.
Joe emphasizes the vital role that traditional canoe carving plays in cultural revitalization
and how this craft is about building canoes but mostly about cultivating connections with his
ancestors’ practices to ensure these traditions are passed down and preserved. He mentions how
these activities were taught and have continued throughout generations, challenging the notion that
these practices had died out:
I have here a northern-style canoe and it is not the way we make our canoes... My daughters
have canoes, and I’ve made many canoes on the coast for many different communities.
[…] We get called a lot to go and help people to carve a canoe and sometimes we have
even carved canoes for communities.
Joe Martin’s canoe-making exemplifies the continuity of cultural knowledge and the
reassertion of sovereignty through traditional practices. His canoes are symbols of resistance,
cultural survival, and the future of Indigenous sovereignty, as he actively passes down this
knowledge, as Wood (2022) notes about him:
His canoes also speak to a future of reclamation and sovereignty. A canoe he carved for
the Makah Nation was used for whale hunting. A canoe he carved for the
Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation was used in a demonstration against Fisheries and
Oceans Canada. He gifted a canoe to his two adult children, and they used it to lead cultural
eco-tours for years. One small canoe he made is for children to play in on the beach. All
these canoes are carrying knowledge forward along the coast, he says.

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The spread of his canoes illustrates how Martin’s work connects generations, mobilizing
knowledge for cultural preservation and active resistance and economic empowerment. By
creating canoes for whaling, protests, eco-tourism, and play, Martin contributes to the continuity
of Indigenous knowledge in contemporary contexts through each of his canoes. For him, these
activities were taught and have continued throughout generations, challenging the notion that these
practices had died out. In fact, a significant theme in Joe’s narrative is the importance of
intergenerational knowledge transmission. He learned canoe-making from his father, which goes
back many generations in his family, showing the importance of intergenerational participation in
maintaining cultural continuity. This is how he explains his father’s methodology, as Carl laughs
at the memory brought up by his brother: “My father was a canoe builder, and he didn’t leave me
a choice – “Get ready, we’re going”. That’s how I learned”.
Joe’s work reflects the delicate balance between adaptation and modernization in
traditional canoe-making. While modern tools like electric drills have replaced stone, bone, and
fire, Joe remains committed to retaining the spirit of the original craft. This adaptability allows
him to keep the old methods alive while ensuring that Indigenous practices can evolve and
integrate into contemporary life without losing their essence. When asked how he thinks canoes
were built without the aid of the electric tools he uses today, he answered: “I think that in the
former days, our people would make a canoe almost as fast as we can do that today. And the reason
for that was because they had the best wood that they needed to do this job with. And then today,
we don’t have the best wood anymore”.
For him, the best wood isn’t just Red Cedar, but specifically “clear, straight grain red
cedar”. When it comes to making the holes needed to gauge the thickness of the canoe, Joe
explains: “And before we had electric drill, you’d use a bow drill, and then drill holes like that, but

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today we have electric drills”. Both Joe and Carl emphasize a crucial step in the craft: “The bottom
is two inches, the side is one inch, and the top is one and a quarter, one and a half. (…) it (the
canoe) could never be too thick or too thin”.
Leadership and community building are central to his craft; as a master carver, Joe and
Carl not only carve canoes but also teach others, passing down the cultural significance behind
each step of the process. Canoe-making thus becomes a communal act, fostering relationships and
preserving traditional knowledge. He emphasizes that while it’s a lot of work, the most satisfying
aspect is sharing this craft with others, ensuring its survival. Nonetheless, Joe reflects: “We don’t
have many people who have been from the beginning to the end. Very, very few people at all who
have done that. So, we can’t really gauge out to see. I don’t know what it’s going to be like when
I die. I don’t know.
Challenges and empowerment play a significant role in this process. Joe faces increasing
difficulty in sourcing good-quality red cedar, once abundant but now scarce. Modern techniques
like using glue to repair cracks have become necessary. Additionally, teaching younger
generations presents logistical and financial hurdles, as modern life often leaves little time or
resources for apprentices to fully immerse themselves in the craft. Despite these challenges, Joe
believes that community support and innovative approaches to practice and teaching can help
overcome these obstacles, ensuring the continuation of this valuable tradition.
At the core of Joe’s work is an environmental and spiritual connection. The process of
canoe-making is not merely technical but deeply rooted in respect for the land and spiritual
practices. Guided by traditional knowledge, Joe approaches the harvesting of materials with
reverence for nature’s cycles. This spiritual connection is embedded in every aspect of the craft,
as he often offers tobacco or a prayer to the Great Spirit before taking materials, seeking permission

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and expressing gratitude: “Sometimes I make a tobacco offering or something that says thank you
to the great spirit so I may have permission to do this or not. And it’s the one that’s permission
from the great spirit. And, yeah, I feel good about doing that”. His work embodies a deep respect
for both the environment and his cultural heritage, merging the material and the spiritual in a
holistic craft that navigates both the modern and traditional worlds.
In Joe’s canoe-making, selecting the right tree follows protocols that emphasize a deep
respect for nature and spiritual guidance, blending knowledge he inherited and personal
experience, as well as rituals that honour the environment and the creatures inhabiting it:
the process of selecting a tree that was something that our people have had a long time ago
because they were always in the forest. So, they would know where all the good trees are.
[…] They just knew. But these days, I have to go look for them. But I also know where
there are good trees for a canoe. I’ve been looking for many years, so I do know.
His respect for the forest’s ecosystem is evident in his rule of only harvesting when no
birds are nesting in the area and choosing only healthy, living trees. These steps show that canoemaking is as much about respecting the natural world as it is about crafting the canoe itself.
And that has to be when there are no birds in the area, no birds of any kind, because if there
are birds in the forest, they may be nesting already or building a nest and we’re not allowed
to disrupt them. Then you have to look to the top to see if it’s alive. If the top is dead, then
it’s probably hollow in the middle and you don’t really want to use that tree. It cannot be
dead. It’s got to be alive.
Moreover, Joe is very aware of the socio-political implications of his craft, discussing the
historical injustices and current challenges his community faces, particularly regarding land rights
and environmental degradation: “They bought other things from us but not the land. The land is

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still ours”. This profound respect for tradition permeates Joe’s story as he details the traditional
laws governing canoe-making and his community’s social and ethical norms about regulation and
deeply connected to the spiritual and cultural well-being of the community.
Joe Martin’s work in canoe carving beautifully encapsulates the artistry and technique
inherent in traditional craftsmanship. He emphasizes the nuanced process of selecting the right
trees, adhering to the traditional times for cutting wood to avoid disturbing nesting birds, and using
specific techniques passed down through generations: “It’s a lot of work to do one canoe but very
satisfying. If we can teach people, that’s what we’d like to do”. His knowledge of materials,
particularly red cedar with its durability and straight grain, reveals a deep understanding of both
material knowledge and environmental integration. By harmonizing with natural cycles and
practicing environmental stewardship, Joe highlights the interconnectedness of cultural practices
and ecological sustainability, showing that the craft of canoe carving is not just about artistry but
also about caring for the environment.
The spiritual and cultural significance of canoes runs through Joe’s narrative. Each canoe
is not just a vessel for transportation but a symbol of cultural identity, carrying the history,
traditions, and ancestral knowledge of the Nuu-chah-nulth people. Canoes connect the community
to the natural world, with deep spiritual dimensions tied to the land and sea. This sacred connection
between people and their canoes has evolved over thousands of years, making the Nuu-chah-nulth
canoe one of the finest, embodying centuries of accumulated wisdom.
In many ways, canoe carving embodies intangible cultural heritage (ICH), representing a
living tradition passed through generations. It is a practice that reinforces Indigenous values,
spiritual beliefs, and environmental stewardship. Canoe carving is not just a technical skill but a
medium for Indigenous resurgence, allowing communities to reclaim and revitalize their cultural

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practices in a modern world. By teaching others, Joe and other carvers ensure that these traditions
are not only preserved but also adapted for contemporary Indigenous identities, reasserting
sovereignty and cultural resilience in the face of ongoing external pressures.
However, challenges in preserving traditional skills persist. Joe and other master carvers
face modern pressures as younger generations struggle to find the time, resources, and focus to
engage with these traditional practices. Financial and logistical barriers often prevent full
immersion in learning these skills, raising concerns about the future of canoe carving: “The biggest
challenges in canoe making is teaching younger people how to do it because of the life we live
now we have to pay them”. Overcoming these challenges requires community support and
innovative approaches to education, such as revitalizing apprenticeship programs and integrating
traditional skills into modern contexts. Ultimately, canoe carving plays a vital role in community
identity and resilience. The communal effort of carving a canoe reinforces bonds, teaches valuable
skills, and maintains a collective sense of purpose. The finished canoe becomes a powerful symbol
of the community’s connection to its history, land, and each other. In this way, canoe carving is
more than a craft—it is a living tradition that strengthens the cultural identity and unity of the Nuuchah-nulth people, embodying both ICH and the spirit of Indigenous resurgence.
Lauri
A journey ring is a brass ring that you get in a ceremony,
and you put it on a necklace. For every Tribal Canoe
Journey you’re on, you get one bead. So, in the middle
of that brass ring, I put that coin to symbolize that
moment, sitting there, that exact moment when I felt that
my life was going to change forever. I even have a tattoo
with that star, life from birth to the end. I should have
added the ladders.

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Lauri starts recounting her involvement in the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) through her
story of loss and healing: the journeys became a pivotal part of her emotional and spiritual recovery
after the profound personal losses she endured, including the death of her husband and brother.
For her, the journey offered a reconnection with her culture and an avenue for personal healing.
Her initial involvement, motivated by her role as a social worker, soon shifted to a personal journey
of transformation.
She shares how the powerful experience of seeing her children paddling as their ancestors
did, profoundly moved her: “When I saw my children coming in on the canoe, it was an
overwhelming feeling to see my children paddling in the ways of our ancestors.” This moment
illustrates the personal and cultural reconnection she experienced and how participating in the TCJ
bridged the gap between personal healing and the resurgence of Indigenous cultural practices.
The impact of this moment and the subsequent emotional journey was a turning point in
Lauri’s life, marked by a transformative experience during one of the canoe journeys. She recounts
the spiritual awakening she felt on a serene night by the ocean, where the combination of natural
beauty and cultural singing created a sacred atmosphere: “I could see the stars, hear the frogs
singing, see the fish swimming in the water, and the water was phosphorescent, so you could see
some glow in the water.” In this serene moment, Lauri describes how she felt a sense of belonging
and realized that the canoe journeys would be a crucial part of her life moving forward. This
connection between Indigenous cultural practices and personal transformation indicates the
healing power of the TCJ and how they facilitate spiritual and emotional recovery.
Lauri’s story also highlights the importance of family and community support in her
healing process. A touching memory of her younger son further illuminates her emotional journey.
He offered her comfort and hope during her darkest times, telling her that he would “get her that

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wishing star,” which symbolized his desire to see her happy again. His encouragement and her
subsequent involvement in the TCJ gave her the strength to begin her healing process and solidified
her belief that the journeys were the key to overcoming her grief. This experience with her son
exemplifies Lauri’s narrative’s interconnectedness of family, healing, and cultural resurgence, for
through the TCJ, she found a path to reconnect with her heritage and heal from her losses.
Lauri’s reflections on the role of the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) in ensuring cultural
continuity show the journeys’ significance in the intergenerational transmission of knowledge,
skills, and values. In addition to connecting participants to their ancestral practices, the journeys
serve as a platform for passing down cultural traditions to future generations. In her perspective,
journeys become more than events; they become a living tradition and a form of cultural education.
In this sense, the TCJ embodies the concept of ICH, as these journeys encompass living practices
transmitted through paddling together, songs, regalia, dances, protocols, and gifts, shaping the
identities and worldviews of participants across generations.
Lauri’s story of bringing a troubled teenager from her work in social services to the canoe
journeys speaks to the transformative power of these cultural practices. She recognized that
immersing him in the journey could offer healing and growth, much like it had done for her and
her children. It was an experience of the cultural knowledge feeling alive, constantly being revived
and reinvigorated by younger generations.
Lauri’s consistent participation in the TCJ since 1997 reveals her commitment to cultural
continuity. Through her involvement as a ground crew member and later seeing her children and
grandchildren take on leadership roles during the journeys, she saw familial bonds and community
identities being formed. The participation of her children and grandchildren represents the

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successful transmission of cultural practices constantly evolving and informed by present
challenges and transformation.
Her family’s involvement is extensive, with several generations participating in canoe
journeys: “My granddaughter is now skippering my canoe and I was in the canoe with her.” This
intergenerational participation in canoe journeys exemplifies how these practices ensure cultural
sustainability and resilience, even in the face of past and present colonial challenges. By
participating in these journeys, Lauri and her family are part of a chain that links them to their
heritage and beyond, ensuring that it continues to thrive as a living, dynamic tradition for future
generations.
For her, the journeys encourage personal growth and community leadership skills,
individual empowerment, and strengthening of community ties. Her own experience of personal
growth through her son’s and a friend’s support reflects how canoe journeys help individuals find
their footing within the community and develop leadership skills grounded in cultural values: “It
was basically my son, who was maybe three at the time, basically telling me I needed to, I needed
to come back from that darkness I was in. Then my friend showed me there was something that
could help me. And so, I did it. From every year on, I went on Tribal Canoe Journeys.”
Extending her reflections on cultural continuity, Lauri further illustrates her connection to
her ancestral lands and spirituality through the role that the landscapes and communities she visits
during the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) play in shaping her identity, connecting her with the land,
ancestors, and the people she meets along the way. Lauri recounts a particular visit to a small
village and illustrates this: “I told them that hosting us in their teeny tiny village may have changed
my life... now I come here with my own canoe, with my children.” This moment indicates how the

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journeys have influenced her life and the lives of her children and grandchildren, with long-lasting
impact across generations.
Her gesture of creating and offering a cedar wreath to the community that hosted her
reflects her gratitude and reciprocity, and the simple yet powerful act of acknowledging the
village’s hospitality years later signifies the importance of maintaining relationships with people
and the land itself. Thus, Canoe journeys are more than traveling through waters; they are also
about making spiritual connections with the places visited, which, for Lauri, provided healing and
shaped her family’s future. Her words express that these experiences are not isolated but part of a
continuous thread of connection that links past, present, and future generations.
The symbolic exchange with an elder, who recognized Lauri years later, further illustrates
this: “I remember when you came here... this is a 1998 toonie, but I remember you were here in
97.” The elder gave her that toonie, which became a “journey ring,” representing a tangible link
between Lauri’s past experiences and the present, reminding her of the bonds formed during the
journeys. While seemingly mundane, the toonie carries immense personal and cultural
significance, symbolizing the shared memories, the gratitude, and the continuation of the
relationships formed during the canoe journeys.
Lauri reflects critically on the evolution of the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ), noting a shift
from the intimate, spiritually grounded experiences of the past to what she views as a more
commercialized and structured event. Her reflections capture the tension between maintaining
these journeys’ cultural and spiritual essence and the challenges their expansion poses in
contemporary contexts. She recalls the early days of the TCJ, where the focus was more on
personal and communal connections, highlighting an experience where she brought a troubled
teenager on a journey and witnessed its transformative impact: “On the last day... he said ‘after

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going through this experience, this is the very first time I believe in myself.” This moment reflects
the therapeutic and empowering nature of the simpler early journeys, which offered participants a
safe space for emotional and spiritual healing that allowed personal growth, cultural reconnection,
and an unfiltered engagement with Indigenous practices.
As Lauri recounts the logistical and financial challenges that have emerged as the journeys
grew, she expresses concern about losing cultural depth. She recalls how the early journeys were
focused on small, intimate groups where the community provided direct support. The shift from a
more organic, community-driven experience to an event marked by formal protocols and
commercialization accentuates her critique. For Lauri, the increasing size and complexity of the
TCJ have diluted the authenticity that once characterized them.
Lauri’s critique is not simply nostalgic but grounded in a concern for the cultural and
spiritual integrity of the TCJ. She reflects on how the earlier journeys were free from the influence
of vendors and modern conveniences, such as “big fancy showers,” which have become
commonplace today. The personal connections once at the heart of the journeys, where village
members would open their homes to travelers for food and support, have been overshadowed by
more formalized hospitality and commercial enterprises: all this that is commercialized: “The
Tribal Canoe Journeys were very, very different. There was not all this protocol and all this that is
commercialized now”. In her view, this commercialization has created a distance from the
journeys’ original intent, prioritizing cultural transmission, healing, and community building over
spectacle and political maneuvering. Lauri encapsulates this sentiment when she states: “There’s
too much politics, too much showboating, like: ‘look at me.” This sentiment critiques how the
journeys, in their current form, may be losing their grounding in Indigenous values.

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Lauri’s experience speaks to the tension between adaptation and preservation, a recurring
theme in Indigenous cultural resurgence. While expanding the journeys has brought more visibility
and participation, it has also introduced challenges that risk diluting the spiritual and communal
essence of the practice. Ultimately, Lauri’s reflections emphasize the need for balance between
growth and the original intentions and adaption to contemporary realities while preserving the
spiritual and cultural heart of the journeys.

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Discussion & Recurrent themes
The fluidity of our traditions, not the rigidity of colonialism.
(Coulthard, 2014, p.56)
By opening the discussion with this quote, I emphasize that the recurring themes from the
interviews—cultural revitalization and resurgence; intergenerational transmission of knowledge;
personal transformation and healing; community, cultural integrity, and environment; leadership,
empowerment and political and social activism—are rooted in this capacity for adaptation and
transformation. The Tribal Canoe Journeys embody this fluidity, as they represent a revival of
ancestral practices and an evolution in response to modern circumstances. These journeys are not
static reenactments of the past; rather, they are dynamic, living traditions that accommodate change
while maintaining cultural continuity. The quote also resonates with the overarching argument of
this thesis: that Indigenous resurgence, as exemplified by the canoe journeys, thrives not by
adhering to rigid colonial expectations of what constitutes “authentic” tradition but by reclaiming
the right to shape and adapt traditions in ways that serve current and future generations. This
distinction between fluidity and rigidity is key to understanding the significance of the Tribal
Canoe Journeys in the Pacific Northwest and the broader project of Indigenous resurgence.
This section explores the recurrent themes identified through the interviews and integrates
them with the existing literature. Unlike the previous analysis, which focused on individual
narratives, this discussion centers on the themes that emerged consistently across all interviews.
The focus is on the cultural, spiritual, and communal impacts of the Tribal Canoe Journeys,
highlighting their significance in cultural revitalization, community cohesion, and personal
transformation. By drawing connections between these themes and the literature discussed in the

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first part of this thesis, we can better understand the multifaceted role of the canoe and canoe
journeys in the Pacific Northwest.
Cultural Revitalization and Resurgence
Ongoing colonial experiences continue to impact Indigenous peoples’ identities and selfinterpretations. Despite efforts to erase Indigenous cultures, knowledge systems, beliefs,
languages, and connections to the land, Indigenous cultures have survived and are experiencing a
resurgence. This resilience was poignantly expressed during the landing of the Paddle to
Muckleshoot, when a canoeist declared when asking permission to land, “We are here today and
our culture is alive and well.” The Tribal Canoe Journeys play a pivotal role in cultural
revitalization for Indigenous peoples, particularly among the Coast Salish and Nuu-chah-nulth
communities. The Paddle to Seattle in 1989 marked a significant resurgence, symbolizing a revival
of cultural practices and rekindling heritage (Daehnke, 2019; Krupat, 2011). These journeys,
alongside Indigenous canoe-making, embody the broader resurgence movement, emphasizing
cultural practices and ceremonies as fundamental to decolonization efforts. As highlighted in the
interviews, the Tribal Canoe Journeys resemble a contemporary potlatch, with their protocols, such
as seeking permission to come ashore and sharing songs and dances, gift-making and distribution,
and communal gatherings. These elements reaffirm social status, validate privileges, promote
cultural revitalization, empowerment, self-determination, and intergenerational transmission of
traditions (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005; Daehnke, 2017).
It’s potlatch, you’re supposed to share your wealth and I was honoured to be a part of it.
Potlatch is a way to build connections and integrate tribes together and make those bonds,
and create those new families. And that is essentially what the canoe journeys is: it is a big
potlatch. (Mark, personal communication, 2024)

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The interviews highlighted how these journeys have rekindled dormant cultural practices,
positioning them at the centre of contemporary Indigenous identity. The collaborators view the
canoe journeys as a means to reconnect with their ancestral traditions, fostering a renewed sense
of pride and community cohesion. This resurgence is deeply tied to the land and traditional
practices (Simpson, 2011). By taking participants along ancestral waterways, the canoe journeys
provide a lived experience that reinforces connections to the land and cultural heritage, aligning
with collaborators’ descriptions of transformative personal and communal experiences that
contribute to a sense of identity and pride. These practices offer a tangible link to pre-colonial
ways of life and a form of resistance against ongoing colonial impacts (Coulthard, 2014), as we
can see in the following quotes:
I would say participating in the Canoe Journeys has recreated a very specific cultural
community within our Coast Salish Nations, because some of the members may have
gathered for spiritual practices ancestrally, but that number was very small. And now, it
has turned that smaller number into a really, really large engaged cultural number. (Robert,
personal communication. 2024)

For people who are out in the water, it brings together, and we became closer […] What
we do, and how we travel, the stories are so similar to our relatives in Hawaii and in New
Zealand, especially that shared stories of colonialism and how we survive, how we
approach travelling on the water, and what that means to our peoples. You see the shared
histories, and I think that’s been such a significant piece for us: we get to express that now,
it’s not just a theory or something in a book, it’s something that is lived lifeway, a pathway
for us. (Robert, personal communication. 2024)

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When I pulled in, asked permission to come ashore, I told them a shortened story of what
happened there, and told them that hosting us in their teeny tiny village may have changed
my life. I said, “and now I come here with my own canoe, with my children. I carry all my
children with me, because of that one night that you hosted me, it’s affected my life and
now my children’s life and it’s going to affect my grandchildren’s lives”. (Carol, personal
communication. 2024)
The canoe journeys are also a powerful example of intangible cultural heritage, where the
transmission of knowledge, skills, and traditions happens through lived experience. By engaging
in these journeys, participants actively preserve and revitalize traditional canoe-making,
navigation, and protocols, ensuring that these practices remain alive for future generations. This
embodiment of ICH not only strengthens cultural continuity but also serves as a form of cultural
empowerment, reinforcing Indigenous identities in the face of diminishing cultural practices,
languages, and knowledges.
The Coast Salish people’s use of their coastal environment held immense cultural
significance, and their connection to the land encompasses emotional bonds with their ancestral
territories, shaping their social structure and way of life (Angelbeck, 2016; Thom, 2005). This
highlights the integration of culture and terrain, which cannot be analyzed in isolation (Thom,
2005). Interviews with collaborators further illustrated this deep connection, as many described
how the canoe journeys allowed them to physically and spiritually reconnect with these culturally
significant landscapes, reinforcing their sense of identity and community. Indeed, by participating
in Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ), Indigenous communities assert their presence and reclaim their
rights to their traditional territories. The journeys serve as a form of resistance against colonial

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narratives that have historically marginalized Indigenous peoples and their lands. Through these
voyages, participants symbolically and physically reassert their sovereignty and cultural identity,
as stressed in the interviews that illustrate the importance of these journeys in maintaining a
connection to their ancestral lands.
Indigenous resurgence involves reclaiming and renewing cultural practices, knowledge
systems, and connections to ancestral lands. It includes the revival of traditional ceremonies,
languages, and ways of life, serving as a form of resistance against colonial impacts. The canoe
journeys and canoes embody this resurgence by providing a lived experience reinforcing cultural
heritage, identity, and community cohesion. They challenge the narrative of Indigenous cultures
as static or vanishing, serving as a living expression of Indigenous sovereignty and resilience, as
Joe mentions:
The carving is from our fathers. The culture that needed to do this here, because our people
have grown up in this part of the world for many, many, many years, hundreds of years,
it’s just a part of the cultural teachings here. I think that all across the, perhaps if you want
to call it that, the indigenous world that of how those things got started, the teachings that
have been passed on through many generations.
[…] Canoes and canoe-making are important to me because of our culture and our
connections to nature. It is part of our culture, because when we look at it, it gave us access
to all of these resources and certainly access to travel many miles from here, not only in
this place where people did travel.
Decolonization necessitates more than symbolic recognition of Indigenous cultures; it
requires the return of Indigenous lands and a fundamental restructuring of power dynamics (Tuck

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& Yang, 2012). By reconnecting people with their ancestral waterways, the canoe journeys embody
this principle of decolonization through active engagement with the land.
Moreover, the resurgence of canoe journeys aligns with the broader movement of
Indigenous cultural revitalization observed globally. Engaging in traditional activities has
significant psychological and social benefits, helping to heal historical trauma and foster
community solidarity (Hirch & Korn, 2012). The interviews support this, highlighting the journeys
as both cultural and healing practices, providing participants with a sense of purpose and
belonging. The canoe journeys exemplify the role of intangible cultural heritage in fostering
intergenerational transmission amidst the pressures of globalization. As younger generations
participate in these traditional activities, they learn cultural knowledge directly from elders and
experienced community members, ensuring the survival of practices that might otherwise be lost
in an increasingly homogenized world. This process not only strengthens cultural continuity but
also empowers communities to resist the erasure of their identities. By passing down traditions
within the context of global change, the journeys promote resilience and pride, creating a living
link between past and present. Lauri, for example, explains her motivation for continuing the
journeys, emphasizing her desire to help others find the same healing and empowerment she
experienced:
For me, I keep participating in canoe journeys; I keep doing it in hopes that it helps other
people the way it helped me. I feel like if I can help one other person, save them from
whatever it is, maybe a deep depression like me, or alcohol or drugs or, you know, whatever
it is, I just feel like it’s an opportunity! I tell my children and my grandchildren that
someday there’s not going to be electricity, there’s not going to be gas for cars, and you’re
not going to have computers, so you’re going to have to go back to the way of life of our

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ancestors. So, you have to learn! Even if we don’t do these things, you must know how!
It’s important. (Lauri, personal communication, 2024)
Other collaborators also stressed the challenges in maintaining the cultural integrity of
these practices amid modern influences and commercialization, in a process of hybridity blending
traditional knowledge with modern tools and methods (Bhabha’s, 1994). Collaborators expressed
concerns about the evolving nature of the canoe journeys, noting a shift from intimate, spiritually
profound experiences to more commercialized events. This tension between maintaining tradition
and adapting to contemporary contexts underscores the complexity of cultural resurgence in the
modern world. In Coulthard’s words, decolonization needs to happen “on our own terms, without
the sanction, permission or engagement of the state, western theory or the opinions of Canadians”
(Coulthard, 2014, p.154).
Intergenerational Transmission of Knowledge
The Tribal Canoe Journeys provide a vital platform for intergenerational learning and the
transmission of cultural knowledge. The construction and journey of the “glwa” canoe by the
Heiltsuk community during Expo ‘86 highlight the importance of these journeys in revitalizing
traditional practices and passing them down to younger generations (Hundley, 2022; Johansen,
2012). Canoe builders exemplify this intergenerational transmission through their dedication to
teaching traditional canoe-making techniques and building canoes for their communities,
continuing a family legacy that spans generations. Canoe-making is not just about creating a vessel
but about connecting with ancestors and preserving cultural heritage.
The canoe journeys embody decolonization through active engagement with the land by
reconnecting people with their ancestral waterways. This intergenerational transmission of
knowledge ensures cultural continuity and resilience amid historical traumas and contemporary

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challenges (Beattie, 2017; Daehnke, 2019; Hirch & Korn, 2012; Hundley, 2022; Johnson et al.,
2019). The resurgence of canoe culture fosters meaningful relationships between youth, Elders,
and knowledge holders, ensuring the continuity of Indigenous knowledge and cultural pride
(Beattie, 2017). Collaborators emphasized the importance of involving younger generations in
these journeys, allowing them to learn from Elders and engage in cultural practices. This aligns
with Kimmerer (2013), who highlights the significance of passing down traditional ecological
knowledge to ensure cultural continuity and resilience.
Coast Salish women were crucial in maintaining family ties and economic independence
through mobility and canoeing skills, navigating waterways for trade, cultivation, and social
connections. This adaptability and knowledge were passed down through generations. The
interviews with women highlighted how they continue this tradition by being instrumental in
intergenerational teaching around the canoe, ensuring the continuity of cultural practices, as
Lauri’s experience with a youth she had as a client:
When I was working in social services, I had a very unruly teenager who was one of my
clients, and I thought that travel journeys would be good for him. […] So, I brought him.
[…] Then I introduced the client to all of them and I followed them by ground crew […]
when we stopped somewhere, there would be either elders telling stories at dinnertime, or
we would make bow and arrows for the kids and they practiced doing that. There was one
stop where they played a traditional gambling game […] And it was very healing, very
powerful and very spiritual. […] . On the last day, […] everybody was singing and
everybody was having a good time and dancing. The boy, who was probably 15, very
teenage-ish, came and sat down next to me and asked to talk to me. I said yes and asked if
he wanted to go outside, because it was very loud in there. He said: “no, I want to stay

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right here”. That’s what we did, we just sat there talking and he said he wanted to thank
me for making him go.
Tribal Canoe Journeys are a dynamic educational setting where intergenerational
transmission is encouraged and celebrated, reinforcing the connection between generations
through shared cultural experiences (Beattie, 2017). These narratives illustrate how the Tribal
Canoe Journeys serve as a living classroom, where cultural knowledge is transmitted and adapted
in a holistic educational experience encompassing ecological knowledge and skills. Participants
engage in canoe building, navigation, and traditional fishing methods, all intimately tied to their
environment. This hands-on learning promotes a deep understanding of their landscape and its
resources, ensuring that this knowledge is passed down through generations.
Creating new cultural expressions, such as songs and dances, during journeys underscores
Indigenous cultures’ adaptive and evolving nature as a Third Space for cultural transmission and
transformation with practices that merge historical traditions with contemporary influences,
fostering the emergence of hybrid identities. This adaptability is crucial for cultural survival,
allowing communities to navigate contemporary challenges while maintaining their core values
and traditions (Elliott, 2018; Erickson, 2008; Marshall, 2011). The interviews illustrated that
younger participants learn traditional practices and contribute to the cultural landscape by creating
new traditions that resonate with their experiences. For Robert, seeing younger generations take
creating new spaces and practices is exciting:
Our younger generation has taken up another type of canoe journeys, that are called jam
sessions, where they get together and sing and dance. Especially in the wintertime, almost
every weekend somebody is advertising that they’re having one of those. So, it has created
a larger ocean-going canoe society with well over a hundred canoes that are a part of it,

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and also these subgroups that come from it. I’m especially excited about seeing the younger
generation take that up on their own and are doing that themselves, creating a safe space,
a drug and alcohol-free space monthly, if not on a weekly basis, for them to get together
and express their culture. And they are creating new songs, they are creating new dances,
they’re just creating different ways of being. (Robert, personal communication, 2024)
This innovation process within tradition is vital for cultural resilience since cultural
practices must evolve to remain relevant amid ongoing colonial pressures. It aligns with Bhabha’s
(1994) concept of hybridity, showcasing the ability of these communities to blend old and new
elements to maintain their cultural identity and sovereignty.
There are also challenges in teaching these traditional skills to younger generations in the
modern context, mainly due to contemporary capitalism’s demands, especially for those more
likely to live in poverty. Despite these challenges, there is a strong commitment to preserving these
skills and integrating modern tools while retaining the essence of the traditional craft. Joe talks
about these challenges and also the effort communities need to do to keep teaching traditional
skills:
The biggest challenges in canoe making is teaching younger people how to do it, that is
usually the biggest challenge. Today, because of the life we live now, we have to pay them.
Because most people cannot just go out there and just drop everything and just go out there
and do it. They don’t make money doing it. This has really changed how our culture is,
because in the former days, we didn’t need money. We just needed to eat, catch fish, and
whatever we needed to eat, we’d catch and eat it. But today, we have to go to the store and
buy food. Younger people also have to do that. Something we will do with them is to raise
funds so they can come and participate.

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Personal Transformation and Healing
The Canoe Journey (TCJ) is crucial for understanding identity development and healing
from intergenerational trauma within the context of settler colonialism. Paddlers create a political
identity that challenges existing power dynamics and fosters collective agency, redefining and
reclaiming cultural and political identities (Hundley, 2022). This process of identity reclamation
addresses the profound psychological impact of colonization, often termed the “colonized mind,”
by fostering a reclamation of Indigenous identity and knowledge. The recognition and critique of
Western research paradigms that neglect the effects of imperialism, colonization, and globalization
on knowledge construction further reinforce the importance of TCJ in personal and communal
healing (Chilisa, 2012; Memmi, 1974/2003).
The physical and emotional challenges of the TCJ encourage connections and interactions
both within and among communities, emphasizing the importance of teamwork, sobriety, and
cultural heritage, which plays a crucial role in promoting personal and communal healing and
resilience (Johansen, 2012). The Indigenous holistic approach integrates body, mind, soul, and
spirit within nature, supporting personal transformation by promoting harmony with the
environment and fostering deep relationships with the natural world, integral to the TCJ experience
as participants engage in a journey that is spiritual, cultural, and relational (Cajete, 2000; Viveiros
de Castro, 1998). As Carol illustrates in this statement: “When they say canoe family, it really is a
family, you’re pulling together one heart, one mind, one spirit. The canoe teaches you. You just
have this connection through that” (Carol, personal communication, 2024).
Paddling through ancestral waters also has a spiritual dimension. Collaborators describe a
profound connection to the land, water, and ancestors. This spiritual bond is often reinforced by
the rituals and ceremonies performed during the journeys, honouring the spirits of the land and

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water, such as initiation rites that respect natural cycles and spiritual entities that inhabit their
territory, early morning prayers in the forest, and ceremonial aspects of mask carving. These
practices are symbolic and seen as essential interactions with the spiritual entities that inhabit their
world, as we can see in the words of the collaborators:
We know our culture is healing, being on the canoe, feeling connected to your family, your
ancestors. It’s like travelling in the same waters that they travelled, something that they
had been doing for thousands of years. […] The reconnection, meeting others, connecting
with other tribes, other people, the learning opportunities! From our protocol, the singing
and dancing, these are all opportunities for our tribes. (Carol, personal communication,
2024)
Another way that it got me involved was by keeping me out of drugs and alcohol. As a
recovering addict from heavy cocaine use and alcohol use, it really gave me that purpose
that I was looking for and needed, as well as becoming more of a role model for the
community and surrounding communities, so it really helped me get on a good path and
not look back. (John, personal communication, 2024)
The Suquamish Tribe of Port Madison, Washington, USA, offers an example as they
incorporate Tribal Canoe Journeys into their “Healing of the Canoe” treatment model, addressing
drug and alcohol abuse by blending cultural practices with medical consultation (Johansen, 2012).
Participants often return from journeys clean and sober, underscoring the positive impact of
revitalizing canoe culture (Daehnke, 2017). This holistic approach shows canoe journeys’
significant role in fostering healing and resilience, contributing to decolonization by reclaiming
Indigenous identity and challenging colonial power dynamics, challenging Western dichotomies

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and supporting healing through deep environmental connections (Daehnke, 2017; Hallowell,
1964).
The therapeutic effects of the canoe journeys on paddlers were a recurrent theme in the
interviews. Many described the journeys as a source of profound emotional and spiritual healing,
particularly in the context of personal losses and struggles, as taking part on the journeys integrate
body, mind, soul, and spirit within nature, creating a holistic relationship between participants and
their environment and embodying principles of Indigenous knowledge (Cajete, 2000). This
integration is evident as collaborators describe a profound spiritual connection to the land and their
ancestors during the TCJ, emphasizing nature imbued with spirit and the interconnectedness of all
beings, as Carol illustrates:
And it [the TCJs] was very healing, very powerful and very spiritual. Truly, everything
that happened was just very emotional for me. And it is still. […] It was dark out and the
stars were so bright! It was a beautiful summer night, and I walked out of the building
where they were singing to where I could see the ocean and the water. And it was just,
really, a moment in time that changed my life forever. I could hear them singing in the back
[..] It was just so beautiful and so magical that I knew that this was the life that I wanted to
follow. I was always very cultural in everything before, but this was something different.
(Lauri, personal communication, 2024)
The interviews highlight the relational and interconnected experience of the journey, with
canoes and natural elements viewed as partners. This perspective facilitates personal and
communal healing by providing a space for participants to process grief and trauma through
communal and spiritual activities, as healing in Indigenous contexts often involves reconnecting

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with cultural roots and engaging in communal practices that can promote mental health and wellbeing (Duran & Duran, 1995; Gone, 2013).
Community, Cultural Integrity, and Environment
The Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) has been a pivotal cultural event celebrating Indigenous
maritime heritage along the Northwest Pacific coast, reconnecting participants to ancestral
pathways and practices, and exchanging cultural knowledge and traditions through protocols and
celebrations. As seen in the interviews, embarking on a canoe journey, building canoes together
and teaching both to younger generations can be platforms for Indigenous communities to unite,
celebrate, and transmit their cultural heritage and promote cultural and community integration or
even creation, as Robert emphasizes: “It has been very important for the last few generations and
the bonds you create in a journey, having that cooperation process, you really get close, out in the
water, depending on each other.”
Traveling by canoe allows participants to trace the routes their ancestors once took through
historical routes, following in the paddle strokes of generations past, they reaffirm connections to
the land and each other, deepening their emotional and spiritual bond to the land. The journey
fosters a greater awareness and respect for the natural environment as participants learn to read the
tides, currents, and weather patterns, gaining a practical understanding of the interconnectedness
of natural elements. A heightened environmental awareness by seeing the landscape from the water
reshapes his perception of their homeland, while encouraging stewardship and sustainable
practices that honour their ancestors’ ways of life:
You have that connection to the water, which really reshapes your lens. Many of the tribes
on the canoe journeys, they have waterfront land bases, but we’re one of the few that does
not. One of the challenges for us is our Indian reservation is up on that plateau where we

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were forced to live and there are connections to the rivers, but a lot of people don’t have
that connection to the saltwater - unless they’re a fisherman. For us, the journeys have
reestablished that connection and changed that perspective of who we are as saltwater and
ocean-going travelers that do that work. (Robert, personal communication, 2024)

Growing up outside of my reservation, my family would float down the Cedar River. It
runs along Renton. In my mind, in my spirit, I could feel villages without anyone telling
me. But on that first canoe journey, that came back. Those things I experienced as a child,
feeling that connection, feeling that these places are special. (Carol, personal
communication, 2024)
As they are not a competition but a social gathering promoting internal and external
connections, a sense of collective agency, storytelling, and sharing songs and dances throughout
the journey and at the destination, they can provide a “third space” for constructing political
identities that challenge existing power dynamics and foster collective agency. (Hundley, 2022;
Johansen, 2012).
As an essential part of Indigenous resurgence processes, they are crucial to the Indigenous
community and cultural integrity. However, collaborators critically discussed the evolution of the
canoe journeys, particularly the shift towards commercialization. While the growth of these events
has increased visibility and participation, it has also introduced challenges related to maintaining
cultural and spiritual integrity. This tension between traditional practices and contemporary
adaptations is a common theme in Indigenous cultural revitalization efforts (Johnson, et al, 2019).
The interviews reflected concerns that the commercialization of the journeys might dilute their

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spiritual and cultural depth. This critique resonates with Lauri’s reflection on the current TCJ and
the risk of commodification:
Nowadays, the Tribal Canoe Journeys have evolved, and I’m not a fan of how it’s evolved.
Myself, personally, I feel like we’re losing. Before, Travel Journeys had only the pullers
in the canoe, and the people on the ground crew. It was only those people for each tribe,
there were no vendors, no big fancy showers, and any of that. You would get to a village,
and some people would have a green sign on the door that meant you were welcome to
come there and do your laundry or shower. So, in the beginning, there wasn’t all that fancy
stuff, you would try to go find someone in the village, sometimes they would come to our
camp and tell us to come their house, that they would feed us and help wash our clothes. It
was more personal than it is now. (Carol, personal communication, 2024)
Maintaining the authenticity of these practices requires careful navigation of modern
influences, ensuring that the core values and traditions are preserved, as the interviews emphasize.
The holistic approach mentioned above ties culture and community deeply to their environment,
viewing canoes as spiritual beings connected to the social and natural world. Collaborators
emphasized the spiritual significance of travelling along ancestral waterways, fostering a profound
connection to the land and water integral to Indigenous identity and spirituality (Daehnke, 2017;
Johansen, 2012). The journeys offer a unique perspective on the landscape, fostering reverence
and stewardship for the environment.
Respecting natural laws and cycles in canoe-making is fundamental to Indigenous
ecological knowledge and cultural practices. Interviews highlight the necessity of aligning with
natural cycles, such as not disturbing birds’ nests during their crafting, not taking resources from

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specific areas for designated periods, and engaging with the land and its entities in a respectful and
balanced relationship, as Joe explains:
Learning about the protocols of harvesting the resources in our forests was a very
important thing that was left by my grandfather and my father, and that was to cut wood
only in the fall and the wintertime. I learned not to cut trees down, because of the birds that
may be nesting in the forest in the spring or the summertime, we were not allowed to disrupt
them. That was one of the biggest things that our people did have, was the teachings of
those things, which were very important. And if you did cut trees in the spring or in the
summertime, then there would be a very bad omen for you and your family. It would not
be very good, so we practiced that.
Leadership, Empowerment and Political and Social Activism
Participation in the canoe journeys encourages leadership and empowerment within
Indigenous communities. These journeys provide opportunities for individuals to develop
leadership skills, take on responsibilities, and contribute to the well-being of their communities.
The interviews highlighted that leadership within the context of the canoe journeys is not only
about guiding the canoe but also about embodying and promoting cultural values. This holistic
approach to leadership, which integrates cultural knowledge and community service, is essential
for the resilience and sustainability of Indigenous communities and aligns with the broader
literature on Indigenous leadership, which emphasizes the role of cultural practices in nurturing
leaders who are grounded in their cultural identity and values (Cornell, 2007). For Robert and
John, that is an important teaching:
I’m so excited to see people that I knew as children are now in leadership roles. They grew
up in the canoe society, they always have that base, I can see it in them, how they interact

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with people, how they respect their elders. We’ve lost that in some places (Robert, personal
communication, 2024).

It has created a tight bond with a lot of people and it’s great because you see these people
grow and change over time, and even more with kids, you see your friends with these
babies and then you see them years later and these kids are taking charge and either singing
or drumming or skipping the canoe or paddling. It’s really just a way of life (John, personal
communication, 2024)
The role of the canoe journeys in broader political and social activism was also discussed.
Collaborators noted that the skills, unity, and networks developed through these journeys support
various activist causes, including environmental conservation and Indigenous rights. This aspect
of the journeys reflects the broader role of cultural practices in fostering social and political
engagement (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005). The journeys serve as a platform for raising awareness
about Indigenous issues and mobilizing support for causes that affect Indigenous communities.
Particularly, these community-led movements aim to heal from and counteract centuries of
colonialism, although not necessarily addressing them: the interviews indicate they are more
interested in internal healing and interconnectedness, affirming Indigenous self-determination and
redefining relationships to restore connections with the environment and community (Coburn,
2015).
The ability of these journeys to unite and empower communities underscores their
significance beyond cultural revitalization. However, collaborators frequently mentioned the
logistical and financial challenges of organizing and participating in the canoe journeys. These
challenges include securing funding, managing large groups, and ensuring the safety and well-

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being of participants. Financial and logistical support is critical for continuing these journeys,
especially for smaller communities with limited resources, as Robert reflects:
It’s a sheer number of people that are coming, so you need to think about it: “Can we afford
restroom facilities? Can we have it sanitary if we have this many people come into our
community? Can we feed all those people? Can we keep them safe, safe from outside
people?” And all those other things that are responsibilities of the host. We’re fortunate
because of our proximity to the highway and for economic resources, we were able to do
it. But it is limiting because it is very, very cost-prohibitive now. Some groups are saying:
“Hey, maybe we should do something smaller, go back to a more, so-called, traditional
way of doing it”.
With adaptability and resilience, the interviews highlight that Indigenous communities
continuously face the challenge of overcoming obstacles. Collaborators discussed various
strategies for addressing these challenges, including community support, innovative practices, and
collaborations across Nations, as Robert says:
I would like to really be able to see all the groups come together to support smaller tribes
or tribes that maybe don’t have the economic resources to do this work, so that each of
them can have that experience. I would really like to see that happen! Those that have more
developed and evolved economic income right now can do this and can do this work and
support them […] so we can spread the wealth around and enable them to also be part of
it. (Robert, personal communication, 2024
This adaptability is a testament to the strength and resourcefulness of Indigenous peoples
in preserving and revitalizing their cultural practices. preserving and revitalizing their cultural

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practices. As Joe notes, the richness of the land before European arrival allowed communities to
balance survival with cultural activities:
That’s a lot of things, the cultural teachings of the land, and how it was so rich here when
the Europeans first arrived here. This land was so rich, our people only had to work for
three or four days a week to survive here, just to gather food. And the rest of the time was
for arts and culture, building homes or new canoes. They often had many canoes in the
front of every house. They probably had four or six canoes in the front of every house. Just
different sizes of canoes for different purposes, that’s why they had them, it was essential.

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Chapter five: Conclusion
Especially for our people in the Pacific Northwest, I think
it has legitimatized and empowered our people.
Ancestrally, we were always a very strong people, warrior
societies that gathered together and did this important
work, but through colonization and urbanization, we lost
so much of that. So, I really think it serves as a model for
that work and creating the next generation of leaders.
(Robert, personal communication, 2024)
This thesis explored the visibility and reverence of canoes in Canadian life and culture,
examining their role in Indigenous-led movements of cultural/political resistance. Through two
key questions, it investigated how the material and social construction of the canoe and the
perspectives of paddlers and Indigenous knowledge holders contribute to the broader processes of
cultural revitalization (or perpetuation), intergenerational knowledge transmission, and an
enhanced understanding of landscapes.
The findings demonstrate that the Tribal Canoe Journeys are not merely cultural events but
active, dynamic processes of resistance and resurgence. These journeys enable Indigenous
communities to reaffirm their connection to the land, revitalize ancestral knowledge, and transmit
cultural practices across generations. The blending of traditional canoe-making techniques with
modern tools illustrates the adaptability of Indigenous peoples, reinforcing their resilience in the
face of ongoing colonial pressures. By navigating both physical and cultural landscapes, the
participants reclaim sovereignty over their identity and heritage, and they experience a profound
reconnection with their identity, often healing from colonial intergenerational trauma.
Moreover, the discussions in this thesis have explored the multifaceted roles that the TCJ
plays within these Indigenous communities, serving as both a spiritual practice and a form of
political activism. The inherent hybridity within these journeys—blending traditional knowledge

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systems with modern tools—reveals the resilience and adaptability of Indigenous cultures. While
this might create tensions between cultural integrity and modernization, it also demonstrates the
capacity of Indigenous peoples to navigate contemporary challenges while preserving their core
values.
The themes that have emerged across the interviews (cultural revitalization and resurgence;
intergenerational transmission of knowledge; personal transformation and healing; community,
cultural integrity, and environment; leadership, empowerment and political and social activism)
and literature underline the significance of the canoe as a metaphorical and literal vessel of cultural
resurgence. It not only transports individuals across waters but also carries forward their histories,
languages, and communal memories. TCJ challenges the static views of Indigenous culture often
propagated by colonial discourses, proving that cultural practices are dynamic, evolving, and
integrally linked to the land and community. The themes also contribute to the broader discourse
on Indigenous resurgence by providing a lived example of how cultural practices serve not just as
acts of heritage preservation but as active forms of resistance and political empowerment. The
journeys serve as a metaphorical and literal return to the land, providing a platform for political
activism, social cohesion, and healing. The canoe is a potent symbol of Indigenous agency and
resistance.
While this study has provided valuable insights into the significance of TCJ, future research
could expand on different canoe journeys across various Indigenous nations, offering a
comparative perspective, engaging in critically reevaluating, reconstructing, and redeploying
Indigenous cultural forms as radical alternatives to colonial domination. Decolonization may
demand that collective efforts shift away from transforming colonial structures and focus on
fostering Indigenous resurgence on their own terms, without seeking permission or validation from

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the state, Western theory, or settler society. As Simpson (2011) and other scholars (Beattie, 2017;
Coburn, 2015; Elliott, 2018; Frandy & Cederström, 2017; Johansen, 2012; Sumida, 2020)
emphasize, resurgence does not mean returning to the past but re-creating the past’s flourishing
cultural and political systems to support the well-being of contemporary Indigenous peoples. This
thesis has illustrated that “[t]he fluidity of our traditions, not the rigidity of colonialism”
(Coulthard, 2014, p.56), is what sustains Indigenous resilience and growth. The Tribal Canoe
Journeys demonstrate that Indigenous cultural practices have much to offer in establishing
relationships based on reciprocity and respectful coexistence.
In conclusion, it is important to recognize that the insights offered by this research are
horizons of possible discourses on this subject. They do not merely corroborate the theoretical
frameworks laid out in the earlier discussions; rather, they expand and challenge these ideas. The
ongoing practices of the Tribal Canoe Journeys invite us to consider broader, more fluid
interpretations of Indigenous identity, community resilience, and cultural revival, enriching our
understanding and opening up new avenues for continued exploration and reflection.

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Figures
Figure 2
Paddler Displaying Mask During Landing Ceremony, Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 3
Canoes At Alki Beach, Seattle, After Lading Ceremony, Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023

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Figure 4
Canoes Arriving for the Landing Ceremony at Alki Beach, Seattle. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 5
Protocol Performance. Paddle to Muckleshoot, 2023.

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Figure 6
Protocols Audience. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 7
Protocols Audience Wearing a Cedar Tree Bark Hat. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 8
Protocols Drumming and the Master of Ceremony. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023

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Figure 9
2023 Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023 Agenda.

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Figure 10
Paddlers Fraternizing After Landing at Alki Beach, Seattle. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 11.
Muckleshoot Tribal Members During the Protocols of Landing at Alki Beach, Seattle. Paddle to
Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 12
Man Crafting Hats With Cedar Tree Bark During the Protocols. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 13
Muckleshoot Tribal Members During the Landing Protocols at Alki Beach, Seattle. Paddle to
Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 14
Canoes Sitting on Alki Beach After Landing. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 15
Example Of Canoe Used on TCJ And Its Road Trailer. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 16
Canoe With a Mast and Sail for Catching a Tailwind. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 17
Examples of Strip Canoes Sitting on Alki Beach After Landing. Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023.

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Figure 18
Canoe Approaching for Landing Protocol at Alki Beach After Landing. Paddle to Muckleshoot
2023.

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Figure 20
Cultural Education Shop at Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve

Note: with the canoes that were made to be gifted during the Paddle to Muckleshoot 2023

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Figure 21
Back View of the Cultural Education Shop at Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve.

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Figure 22
Tree Logs Used for Carving Activities in the Backyard of the Cultural Education Shop at
Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve.

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Figure 23
Display at the Entrance of the Community Centre at the Muckleshoot Tribal Reserve.

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Figure 25
Joe and His Relatives Carve a Canoe in 1984 Acts of Resistance.

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Figure 26
Vending Tents Outside Muckleshoot Community Centre During the Paddle to Muckleshoot, 2023.

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Figure 27
Master Carver Joe Martin and me At Carl Martin’s Shop.

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Annex
Below is a comprehensive list of the Tribal Journey years along with their corresponding
locations:
1986 – Vancouver World’s Fair

2008 – Cowichan, B.C.2009 –

1989 – “Paddle to Seattle”

Suquamish, WA

1993 – Qatuwas, Waglisla (Bella

2010 – Makah, WA

Bella), B.C.

2011 – Swinomish, WA

1994 – Youth Paddle, Olympia, WA

2012 – Squaxin Island, WA

1995/1996 – Full Circle Youth Paddle

2013 – Taholah, WA

(throughout Puget Sound)

2014 – Qatuwas II, Waglisla, B.C.

1997 – La Push, WA

2015 – Multiple regional ‘youth’

1998 – Puyallup, WA

journeys

1999 – Ahousaht, B.C.
2000

–

Songhees,

Pendleton, OR

2016 – Nisqually, WA
B.C.

and

2017 – Wei Wai Kai, We Wai Kum,
B.C.

2001 – Squamish, B.C.

2018 – Puyallup, WA

2002 – Taholah, WA

2019 – Lummi, WA

2003 – Tulalip, WA

2020/2021/2022

2004 – Chemainus, B.C.
2005 – Elwha, WA
2006 – Muckleshoot, WA
2007 – Lummi, WA

–

Cancelled

COVID-19
2023
(scheduled).

–

Muckleshoot,

WA

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Script for Participant Recruitment
I am a First Nations Studies master’s candidate at UNBC, conducting a qualitative research
project that aims to examine the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) and the experiences of canoeknowledge holders and paddlers who participate in these journeys along the coast of the Salish
Sea. The focus is on understanding TCJ as a process of Indigenous resistance and cultural
resurgence, exploring how they contribute to the intergenerational transmission of Indigenous
knowledge, revitalization efforts, and shaping participants’ understanding of places and
landscapes.
As we discussed during the Paddle to Muckleshoot, I am currently seeking participants
who have taken part in TCJ and are willing to share their experiences. Your participation in this
study would be greatly appreciated. The interview is expected to last approximately one hour and
can be conducted in person or through a Zoom/Microsoft Teams or telephone call, depending on
your preference. All information shared during the interview will be treated as confidential, and
your privacy will be respected throughout the study.
If you are interested in participating or know someone who might be, please spread the
word and reach out to me. Your involvement in this research will significantly contribute to our
understanding of the cultural significance and impact of TCJ within Indigenous communities.
Thank you for considering participation in this study. Your contribution is invaluable!
Best regards,
Research team
Student Researcher: Alexandre Dantas (asousa@unbc.ca; (250)6404282)
First Nation Studies, Faculty of Indigenous Studies, Social Sciences, and Humanities
(FISSSH). University of Northern British Columbia (UNBC), Prince George, BC V2N 4Z9
Faculty Supervisor: Dr. Agnieszka Pawlowska-Mainville (agnes.pawlowskamainville@unbc.ca)
Global and International Studies International Studies Graduate Program (FISSSH)
Purpose of Research
This research project is part of my Master’s degree and will contribute to the thesis, which
will be evaluated by the supervisor and committee and may be published in the future. The study
aims to examine the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) and explore the experiences of canoe-knowledge
holders and paddlers participating in these journeys along the coast of the Salish Sea. It focuses on
the broader significance of canoes within the systems of Coast Salish nations, as understood by
Indigenous knowledge holders, and explores the perspective of paddlers in the Tribal Canoe
Journeys, specifically the 2023 “Paddle do Muckleshoot” event.
Commitment Required, Potential Risks and Benefits Involved in Participation
Participating in this research is voluntary; you can decline any part that may be
uncomfortable. If you want to withdraw from the study, we will respect that and remove your
information. You can choose the interview location, which will last approximately one hour.
Whether in person or through online platforms like Zoom or Microsoft Teams, we will ask about
your experiences with the Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ). You can share as much or as little as it
makes you comfortable discussing.

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You can also be an ongoing collaborator in the research, with the opportunity to review
drafts and provide feedback to maintain a collaborative process. Rest assured that all the
information will be treated with strict confidentiality and handled according to ethical guidelines
to protect privacy.
Participating in this study is low-risk, and your well-being is our top priority. We
understand the sensitivity of discussing personal experiences, and if you require additional
psychological support, we will provide resources to assist you. Your involvement in this research
will contribute to filling a knowledge gap and enhancing our understanding of the cultural
significance and impact of Tribal Canoe Journeys (TCJ) within Indigenous communities along the
coast of the Salish Sea. Thank you for considering being a part of this important study.
Confidentiality
The interviews will be recorded and written down for this research. Only the leading
researcher and supervisor will have access to these recordings. They will be kept secure for up to
two years after the project ends and then deleted. If you want, you can listen to your own interview
but not others. To keep things private, if you want, we will give you a different name to use in the
report. We will also ensure that no personal information is included in the report. This is to keep
your identity confidential, and no one can figure out who you are based on what you say.
Results
The results of this study will be analyzed and used in my thesis. They might also be
published in books or academic journals in the future. The findings could be shared with the local
community as well. I will make sure to keep everything confidential and protect your privacy,
meaning that when we report the results or present the findings, we will keep who participated in
the study.