From sea to summit, Yakutat’s horizon boasts the tallest, most rapidly ascending mountain on Earth. It is here, below Mt. Saint Elias (Was’eitushaa), where the Yakutat Tlingit (Yaakwdáat) have carved their home.
Strength and Xaat (Salmon): Haa Yaakwdáat Kusteeyi Yanshuká (Yakutat Culture Camp) 092717 AE 1 Bethany Goodrich, For the Capital City Weekly From sea to summit, Yakutat’s horizon boasts the tallest, most rapidly ascending mountain on Earth. It is here, below Mt. Saint Elias (Was’eitushaa), where the Yakutat Tlingit (Yaakwdáat) have carved their home.

A camper excitedly tries the beginnings of a cedar hat on while learning to weave. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Participants perched on the massive driftwood rootwads that wash up along the Situk. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Elora fearlessly admires the beating heart of a sockeye salmon beside the Sitkuk. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Skiffing down the S'tak. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Participants practice formline while working on a panel that will adorn the central camphouse. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Participants teach each other tricks for processing salmon beside the Situk. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Participants learn new skills and weaving and leave with their own cedar hat. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Haa Yaakwdáat Kusteeyi Yanshuká (Yakutat Culture Camp) is empowering young leaders. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Two brothers check the dryfish. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Kimberly Buller, Kuwúx and her son prepare salmon roe for the smokehouse. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

DeAndre King Jr. and Jackson Wolfe celebrate Culture Camp. Photo by Bethany Goodrich.

Click Thumbnails to View
Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Story last updated at 9/26/2017 - 3:42 pm

Strength and Xaat (Salmon): Haa Yaakwdáat Kusteeyi Yanshuká (Yakutat Culture Camp)

From sea to summit, Yakutat’s horizon boasts the tallest, most rapidly ascending mountain on Earth. It is here, below Mt. Saint Elias (Was’eitushaa), where the Yakutat Tlingit (Yaakwdáat) have carved their home.

On the banks of the S’itak River, Elora fearlessly admired the beating heart of a freshly killed sockeye salmon. Elora’s Tlingit name is Sei S’oox’, and she belongs to the Teikweidí clan. Her people settled in Yakutat centuries ago. Today, she is salmon (Xaat) fishing.

“When I was a little girl, I would make mom crazy trying to run into the river to swim with the salmon,” she asserted, her eyes transfixed on the heart as it dances its final rhythm into her palm. “I ate a salmon heart once because sister dared me to.” Gasps and giggles erupt across the plywood processing table. Boys and girls are learning how to properly fillet sockeye salmon they plucked moments earlier from turquoise set nets.

The group is participating in Yakutat’s Culture Camp (Haa Yaakwdáat Kusteeyi Yanshuká). This overnight camp is a place where kids are given space to be their honest selves.

“Culture Camp strengthens us as a native community, and it shows kids a lot of the skills they need to just feel proud of who they are,” Gloria Wolfe said. Gloria’s Tlingit name is X’aal Eex’ Tláa, and she belongs to the Wooshkeetaan clan. She is the Cultural Heritage Coordinator with Yakutat Tlingit Tribe.

“A lot of native folks here feel lost in their identity. It can lead to things like suicide or not really knowing how to combat bullying because they just don’t have a strong base.”

Across society, people are increasingly estranged from their heritage, the land, and the local resources that feed their families. Culture Camp is changing that for people with ancestral ties to the Yakutat area.

“We had one girl who came here from a difficult background who lives in a city separated from all of this,” Wolfe said as she opened her arms to embrace the scene. Siblings processed salmon, and kids chased each other with fistfuls of mud, teetered on giant driftwood castles, or waded in the silty river.

“What that girl told us was very impactful,” Wolfe continued. “She told us that ‘During this camp, I realized why I am the way that I am. I have never felt like I fit in anywhere before, and now I know why I feel the way I feel, why I do things the way I do. I never knew that I belonged to a people before.’” Wolfe smiled, her son tugging on her waistband. “It was emotional for her to have that connection. That is what we are hoping for with this camp, to ground kids and let them be healthy being who they are.”

Forty kids ages 7-17 are participating in this year’s camp. Activities include salmon and seal processing, Tlingit language classes, canoe paddling, form-line painting, and cedar bark weaving. The goal is to encourage campers to respect themselves, the natural environment, and the traditional tribal values and clan systems of the Yakutat Tlingit.

“Every single kid wants to try and cut fish and smoke the fish. There is 100 percent participation. Same with seal, you would think blood and guts would freak them out, but they can’t wait for their turn. There are these impulses and these instincts that show up out of nowhere, and their amazing fish cutting abilities just come out,” Wolfe said.

Whether in the art of salmon filleting, weaving, or pulling oars through the S’itak River, the children are naturals and their movements instinctual.

“Culture Camp strengthens all of us, and it strengthens kids who may be fishermen and hunters. They can be one of the top dogs here and share those skills, whereas in other scenarios, they may not feel like a leader. Here, they can be shining stars,” Wolfe said.

Culture Camp reborn

The Yakutat people have not always celebrated Culture Camp beside the S’itak. In addition to carving their homeland into one of the most dynamic landscapes on Earth, the Yakutat Tlingit have overcome myriad social challenges in their journey. Under an increasing concern for Japanese attacks during WWII, the U.S. military scrambled for a foothold to defend the Aleutian Islands. One of the communities they looked to was Yakutat. At its peak, 15-20,000 troops were stationed in this isolated Alaskan village, which is now home to roughly 600 people. Military occupation brought dramatic changes in lifestyle for the Tlingit and new technologies. It also increased pressure on natural resources. Tlingits were denied access to many traditional fishing grounds, and important berry sites were replaced by roads and regulations.

“After the war, land was redistributed and the Yakutat Kwann (the local Native Corporation) acquired the Ankhouw area,” Wolfe explained. “We were thrilled to return back to where we traditionally harvested, and we celebrated and had a Culture Camp on that land for many, many years until we came to find that there was tons of contamination left on-site: asbestos, agent orange, unexploded bombs, quonset huts, a huge oil tank that has been leaking ever since.”

The Yakutat Tlingit Tribe ended Culture Camp abruptly in 1996.

“Those days at Culture Camp were the best times of my life, seriously,” Wolfe said. Later returning to Yakutat after years of schooling, Gloria Wolfe became the Cultural Heritage Coordinator and went to work. With the help of countless volunteers, financial risk-taking, and hours of grant writing, the Yakutat Tribe was able to secure a permit for new lands from the United States Forest Service and begin building camp. Yakutat’s Haa Yaakwdáat Kusteeyi Yanshuká was reborn in 2015.

“It was a truly collaborative effort,” Gloria added.

Salmon and strength

The sun started its slow summer tilt toward the horizon, illuminating the children’s faces as they raced through the wildflowers with makeshift bows and arrows. In the smokehouse, seal fat oozed from purple flesh beside carefully hung strips of dry salmon. Students focused intently on form-line as they painted a new house front for their camp. Others practiced weaving by dipping strips of red cedar into water for their regalia. One baby collapsed in the mud with shrieks of joy. Tlingit was spoken casually across generations.

In the cookhouse, volunteers prepared dinner. Unsurprisingly, the food that sustained this sacred scene was fresh sockeye salmon. Ted Valle, Naatsk’i.éesh of the Galyáx Kaagwaantaan clan, a community elder, prepared his famous “supersoup” for bustling campers. He stired seal fat, ribbon seaweed, salmon roe, salmon, and onions into a cauldron. The savory aroma crawled across Culture Camp.

“Here, steak is the rich man’s food and salmon, the poor man’s food,” Wolfe laughed. “Salmon is a major staple, and we literally eat it twice a day for three to four months out of the year. Unfortunately, kids, we are eating king salmon again for dinner,” she teased.

Coho, King, Dog, Sockeye, and Pink salmon all pulse through the braided rivers and streams that surround Yakutat. In town, access to fresh healthy food and affordable protein is a challenge. Yakutat is not alone in its pursuit for community health. Across the state, 65 percent of Alaskans are either overweight or obese ( Access to salmon and the sharing of recipes, processing skills, and preservation is not only integral for cultural wellbeing in rural Alaska, but it is essential for community health.

“Not all of these kids come from healthy homes, and this is a healthy environment to talk about things. They get to be safe here, are well fed, and they have a place to laugh and have fun. We don’t serve sugary drinks here, and the kids don’t ask for them. The whole theme of this camp this year is ‘What makes me healthy?’ Part of that is having a cultural identity and part of that is eating your mother’s food.”

Gloria and a group of kids run fingers across a blanket of black seaweed, carefully separating the pieces to dry.

“These recipes, these foods have been passed down to you, and your body craves it, but sometimes you don’t even realize what exactly you are craving. It just feels like you need carbs or energy,” she said with a laugh. “But actually, what you need is seaweed! Or sockeye!”

Nearby on sheets of cardboard, Kimberly Buller, Kuwúx, emptied buckets of fresh salmon roe that the kids harvested in the morning. She and her sons prepared the roe for the smokehouse.

“My son told me that all he wants for his birthday is fish eggs,” she said laughing. Clearly, the smallest generation at Culture Camp has the appetite to herald family traditions long into the future. He plunged his chubby fingers into the glowing orbs, pounding fistful after fistful past his toothy grin.

This site, these rivers, these practices, these foods, and these ceremonies are sacred. Organizing this camp has demanded resilience and community champions in the face of asbestos, loss, and hardship. The true champions, however, are the kids themselves.

“Even though we eat salmon all the time, those skills are not necessarily passing down. Some families here make the best dry fish, and their grandkids have no idea how to make it. That generational separation is hard to navigate. But, when the kids are here, their peers provide the positive influence that brings more of their peers to the table. ‘Hey, this is what I know how to do, and I’m pretty cute, and I’m going to fillet this fish faster than you!’” Wolfe said.

Across the camp, supersoup is served. “I could wrestle a bear after this,” Ted whisperd after taking his first sip. Tlingit words were practiced, and elders shared stories of great migrations and the Little Ice Age. Beside a blazing driftwood fire, counselors remixed old songs with fresh beats. With salmon in their bellies, their smokehouses, and their streams, Yakutat’s Haa Yaakwdáat Kusteeyi Yanshuká closed another day beside the swelling S’itak.


Culture Camp is a cultural leadership resource for Alaska Native youth. Elders believe that Tlingit values, worldviews, and a sense of morality are embedded within their culture. It is important to the entire community of Yakutat that their children become culture bearers, Tlingit language speakers, and ambassadors. Culture Camp focuses on the health of the mind, body, environment, and community.

A version of this story also appeared on “The Salmon Life,” a blog hosted by The Salmon Project, a 501(c)(3) charitable organization. The group’s stated mission is to “give voice to Alaskans’ deep relationships with salmon to ensure that Alaskans’ lives will always be salmon lives.” Visit

Bethany Goodrich is a freelance storyteller and the Communications Director for the Sustainable Southeast Partnership (SSP). SSP is a diverse group of partners dedicated to the cultural, ecological and economic prosperity of Alaska’s rural communities. Visit or for more.