The Selkirk First Nation and the Fish Camp

While camping on the Pelly River in northern Yukon, I awoke to find a gentleman some distance away working diligently under a nearby pavilion. I had learned the night before that the campground had been provided free of charge by native members of the Selkirk First Nation.

Its original population centre was the trading post of Selkirk, Yukon along the Yukon River, but most of its citizens now live in Pelly Crossing, Yukon where the Klondike Highway crosses the Pelly River.

The language originally spoken by the Selkirk people was Northern Tutchone. There is a great effort to preserve the language and culture, as can be seen by the popularity of the Selkirk "Keeper of the Songs", Jerry Alfred. Thinking the gentleman in the pavilion was a member, I wanted to take time to thank him and his people for their generosity of camping on the river. That's when I met Clarence.

Picture # 1: As it turned out, Mr. Clarence Henry Vickers was a retired commercial fisherman from the remote fishing village of Kitkatla (meaning people of the sea), British Columbia. He is now retired and spends his time traveling around the country making and selling fishing nets to the natives of the Yukon and British Columbia fishing villages. That's when he tells me the reason I don't see many people is that they're all on the river at the "fish camps."

At the risk of sounding really stupid, I have to admit that I had no idea what a fish camp was , nor did I realize that the native people continued to collect and store up winter supplies of food much as their forefathers had done for many generations. Mr. Vickers tells me the fish camps are a relatively private matter and not often witnessed by outsiders. I found myself particularly interested in his net making skills and I was fortunate enough to learn more about the skill than I ever imagined possible.

Inquiring further about the fish camps, I learn that outsiders normally don't get an opportunity to visit these remote (twenty miles down a dirt road) and apparently private camps. I also learn that anyone who just happens to wander into camp would most likely not receive the warmest welcome. It was only after approximately an hour or more of discussion (and sharing what remained of my massive cinnamon roll) that Mr. Vickers made me what I feel was the offer of a lifetime; the chance to see a fish camp with my own eyes!!! I was ecstatic!

Picture # 2: After following Mr. Vicker's Toyota some twenty miles down a dirt trail along the Pelly River (a tributary stream to the Yukon River) we turn off onto little more than a path leading even deeper into the forest. I'm thinking he's either leading me to a modern day massacre or something truly rare and special. Fortunately, the latter was the case.

I was introduced to Mrs. Lizzie Hall, whom I was informed is a high ranking elder among the Selkirk First Nation people. While I don't exactly understand the political hierarchy among these people, nor did I want to ask, but it was immediately apparent to me that she possesses significant authoritative rank and commands a high degree of respect among her people whether it be male, female or child.

Having been invited there by Mr. Vickers opened the door for me and everyone treated me as a welcome guest. Asking if pictures were allowed, she politely but firmly granted me permission if used for personal purposes only. Having agreed, I was then informed that the second stipulation was that I would be required to stay and enjoy some of the fresh catch of the day. Are you kidding me? Twist my arm again!

Picture # 3: Within a couple minutes of arriving into camp, I'm quickly ushered to the riverbank to meet the incoming boat returning with the morning's catch. That's where I meet Derrick Able and Mr. Silverfox with a morning catch of 15 king salmon like the one pictured here. Mrs. Hall informs me the indigenous people send out a scout in early July with nets in an effort to determine the moment the salmon begin running upstream for the annual spawnfest. As soon as the first one is caught, the villages are notified and everyone promptly migrate to the fish camps for 4-6 weeks of fishing.

Picture # 4: Collection of winter food supplies is shared by all members of the family including little four year old Nevada pictured here. Now, I'm not sure what role he was playing, but he certainly was entertaining to converse with.

Pictures # 5, 6, & 7: Preparation and consumption of fresh salmon. Guys, let me tell you, watching fresh King Salmon go from the net, to the frying pan, to my taste buds in a hour's time is one increadable experience. It just doesn't get any fresher than this!

Picture # 8: This structure is known as a "high cache." It is used by the natives to store their smoked salmon, caribou and other meats high above the ground away from predators and scavengers.


Pictures 9 & 10: Mrs. Racheal Tomtom preparing the salmon for smoking and air drying. The meticulous attention to detail was amazing. As the meat in carefully cut and then the skin is stretched to create a more open pattern which facilitates better drying and lessons the chance of decay before the meat can properly cure.

While I could have only dreamed of getting such an opportunity, I never imagined it would/could have happened. The day spent at fish camp with the Northern Tutchone (pronounced "two-shoney")/ Selkirk people will always be one of the most memorable days of this trip.