Adam Edwards
Whitewater Kayaker and Writer
Featured Styles
When Terrie Brigham was growing up, mornings during salmon season meant walking out onto a small wooden scaffold that jutted out over the Columbia River near the Bridge of the Gods. She and her family members would pull a huge circular net out of the water and check for the day’s catch. These days, she’s still often out on the river, fishing with a hoop net and hauling out shiny Sockeye, Chinook, and Coho, just as her parents, siblings, uncles, cousins, and grandparents did for years.
Terrie, a member of the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, grew up hoop net fishing with her parents. She remembers her family selling fish to pay for school clothes in the fall.
“We have pictures of my mom fishing and my sister sitting in a cooler so she wouldn’t fall in as a baby. I’ve been here my whole life.”
When you’re going fishing, you’re supposed to do it with a good heart and a good way. The river is my peace.
As a fisher, she’s part of a legacy that stretches back generations. Indigenous people along the Columbia River Gorge have fished in the waters they call Wimahl and Nch’i-Wàna for 15,000 years. A few miles away from where Terrie fishes each spring, summer, and fall, Celilo Village stands as one of the oldest continuously occupied communities in North America. Thousands of people would gather at the river each year to fish, talk, and trade. These days, U.S. policies have devastated the salmon populations, but people still resiliently gather.
The first fish that Terrie’s family catches is part of an important ceremony. They run a rope through the salmon’s mouth, then other tribal members carry the salmon to the longhouse. The salmon becomes part of the annual Nixyaawii Root Feast. For days leading up to the April feast, women from the Cayuse, Umatilla and Walla Walla tribes gather roots from plants their people have eaten for centuries, such as latit latit, a relative of celery and carrots. These are cooked along with the salmon into a huge meal that celebrates and honors their connection to the land. “We give thanks to Creator for bringing the fish back,” says Terrie.
In 2023, about 1.5 million salmon swam through the Columbia River. That might sound like a lot of fish, but it’s actually a sign of loss. Salmon once occupied nearly 13,000 miles of the Columbia River Basin, and between 10 and 16 million salmon returned annually to the river. Dams built by the U.S. government throughout the 1900s devastated the salmon populations. They were also hard-hit by commercial overfishing and, now, are affected by rising water temperatures due to climate change. For decades, Terrie’s family didn’t fish in the summer because there weren’t big enough salmon runs.
“There was a time where it was so overfished that we got three days for our fall season,” says Terrie. “We've come a long way.”
In 2014, Terrie’s family opened Brigham Fish Market in Cascade Locks.
“We opened up in February, during an ice storm. And people still showed up to support us.” In addition to fresh-caught fish, the market sells chowders, fish and chips, and tasty huckleberry lemonade. There’s a huge difference between wild-caught salmon pulled straight from the river and the taste of farmed salmon that many places serve. “I don’t think I’ve ever ordered salmon in a restaurant,” says Terrie. “I like the way I cook it at home. I’m spoiled.”
While fishing is tough work, Terrie feels lucky to be able to get out on the river and practice the craft her parents taught her.
“When you’re going fishing, you’re supposed to do it with a good heart and a good way. That good vibe, thankfulness for Creator and what’s being provided for us,” she says. “The river is my peace.”
