Their paddles sliced through the water’s surface, pulling the canoes below a refinery skyline.
The canoes from the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community paused near the Holly Frontier oil refinery pier. They were here Wednesday to honor a gray whale that died, its body wedged among the pilings in front of them.
Swistilem, or Joe Quintasket, a Colville Tribes citizen and Esquimalt and Songhees descendant, began a prayer in Lushootseed.
In English, he repeated: “We ask that you bless our elders, bless our children, bless and help guide the spirit of the dead whale over there … ”
The gray whale was the seventh known to die in Washington this year, according to the Cascadia Research Collective. One of the whales was given the name “Willapa Willy” when it swam up a river and then perished.
This appears to be the highest number of deaths documented this early in the year for Washington, said John Calambokidis, a leading gray whale researcher and one of the founders of Cascadia Research Collective.
About 13,000 gray whales are in the midst of a journey from their breeding grounds in the lagoons near Baja California to their feeding grounds in the Arctic. Naturally, they are hungry.
But climate change is making it harder for them to get enough to eat, Calambokidis said, and the whales have been experiencing a sharp decline since 2019. It may be this hunger that’s bringing them closer to shore and drawing them into unusual places. They may be desperate and disoriented.
It’s unclear now what may have happened to this whale under the refinery pier. An examination is planned, but could be difficult in its current state.
This week brought swells of joy, then sadness, Swinomish Culture Director Aurelia Bailey said.
First came reports of a young-looking whale in Swinomish Channel.
It was like a message, Bailey said, “Bringing those blessings. Feeling like a miracle presence was amongst us and the spiritual connection of having it reveal itself right here in our front yard was just amazing.
Then came a heartbreaking call: a deceased whale was found just north of the village, Bailey said. It was not the same whale. They wondered if it was the mother of the whale spotted in the channel.
The Swinomish Indian Tribal Community culture department called for a ceremony after learning of the whale’s death on their home territory. Youth canoe pullers were on spring break from school this week and were rallied out of bed to join in sharing song and prayer.
It was important, Bailey said, “to join her on the water and call our loved ones to come and escort her back to the homelands — to that beautiful place we’re all promised.”
It was a clear day with a soft breeze Wednesday. A heron led its young ones through the soft tidelands along the channel.
Seals periscoped their heads as the canoes — miʔman sʔuladxʷ, Little Salmon, and sqəlalitut ʔə tsi sʔuladxʷ, Spirit of the Salmon Lady — made their way around March Point. An eagle watched from its perch on a nearby piling. Mount Baker loomed large, as did the refinery stacks belching white clouds overhead.
Humans have to atone for their actions, stulc̓əʔ, whose English name is Eric Day, said from the canoe sqəlalitut ʔə tsi sʔuladxʷ. H’h’cho’lia, whose English name is Marcia Julius, and Macey George raised plates of fish toward the sky then offered it to the sea.
The Swinomish youth canoe family in Little Salmon and Swinomish canoe family pullers in sqəlalitut ʔə tsi sʔuladxʷ shared songs of mourning, healing and the ancestors. Their voices danced across the water.
To Swinomish Sen. siwəlcəʔ, Alana Quintasket, the whale brought a message.
“We gather today to honor our sacred relative, our sacred relative that has connected us across the Pacific Ocean, that has traveled many miles, has experienced many hardships because of us, because of our actions, because of how we choose to live,” Quintasket said, her voice beginning to waver.
Gray whales at one point were a great comeback story, said Jason Colby, a professor of history at the University of Victoria who is writing a book about gray whales.
Human-fueled climate change and El Niño and La Niña events are changing that, Colby said.
Most gray whales rely on prey from the fringes of the Arctic sea ice for the energy they need to complete their epic 10,000-mile-long migration to their breeding grounds and back. The amphipods — tiny crustaceans — the whales feed on eat the algae that falls from the underside of the sea ice, Colby said. Now global warming is gnawing at the sea ice, and upending Arctic Ocean food webs.
When it comes down to it, who are the best people to take care of this territory, Quintasket asked as the water lapped against the side of the canoes.
The original Swinomish Reservation boundaries included March Point, long before the oil refineries were built, Quintasket explained, but President Ulysses Grant redrew the map.
“We were here for thousands and thousands and thousands of years, and we lived peacefully. We lived in balance. We lived as one: as humans, as people of the sea, as creatures of the sea, the sky, the land. Nobody was superior, nobody was dominant. We needed each other to survive, and we still do,” Quintasket said.
Swinomish has been a leader in the region’s fight against climate change: restoring ancient practices to make coastlines more resilient, reconnecting salmon habitat and holding utilities and corporations accountable to do their part.
“I hope that people can see this and learn from it,” Quintasket said, of the whale.
Material from The Seattle Times archive was included in this report.
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