What Happens When We Walk the River Together
It sounds like the start of a joke: Lummi fishers, Nooksack storytellers, Punjabi farmers, civic leaders, environmentalists, and dairy and berry farmers walk onto a farm.
But rather than kicking back for a drink, they were walking into a new kind of conversation—one rooted in the soil and stories of the Nooksack River.
We gathered under a tent in Paul Sangha’s blueberry field, leaving professional titles at the door to seek respite from the sun. That’s not to say there wasn’t laughter. Farmer Brad Rader and Nooksack Tribal member Angela Letoi were caught giggling like schoolchildren, sneaking the ripest berries off the vine. A friendly heist captured on film by our dedicated photo and film crew from Soulcraft Allstars, who, with everyone’s consent, blended seamlessly into the day’s magic, their presence barely noticed as they documented these fleeting moments.
As the group meandered through blueberry rows toward a wooded tributary, connections sparked. A 27 year old kayaker and an 80+ year old Punjabi farmer discussed water flows and irrigation techniques. A farmer’s daughter and a Lummi elder chatted. A politician and a permaculturalist talked soil. Everyone paired off, walking side-by-side, sharing stories. Paul Sangha and his father recounted the five decades it took to grow their berry business from scratch in Whatcom County—a story of grit on land shaped by others long before.
Sweaty from the heat, we traveled across the valley to Rich Appel’s independent dairy farm. A tractor-drawn wagon carried everyone to a sandbar on a bend of the Nooksack, where the storytelling deepened. Nooksack storytellers Angela and her mother, Tammy Woodrich, shared the story of Salmon Woman, and Rich recounted his childhood memories of the river, his words carrying his family’s gratitude for water that sustains—and sometimes challenges—them.
“Now, go one by one,” our facilitator, Jeff Bos, instructed. “Without speaking. Listen to the river. Find something meaningful and bring it back in twenty minutes.”
For some, the request was natural. For others, it was a step far outside their comfort zone.
Yet, everyone took part in the shared solitude.
Some waded into the cool, murmuring water, others gathered herbs or river stones smoothed by time. One intrepid adventurer jumped in and floated so far downstream we weren’t sure we’d get them back. It was a beautiful sight: twenty people navigating solitude, together, while the Nooksack whispered its own ancient tale, all quietly captured by the film crew to preserve the raw power of the moment.
Returning to the tent, each person added their found treasure—a stone, a piece of driftwood, a flower—to a communal shrine initiated by artist Christopher Remmers. One by one, they shared what they felt.
“I haven’t taken time to just be by myself on the river in years… maybe ever.”
“That was so powerful and peaceful.”
As the sun began to dip low, casting long shadows, we headed back for a feast prepared by chef Mataio Gillis, a meal sourced almost entirely from the Nooksack watershed. Anna Brewer of the Nooksack Tribe offered a blessing, grounding us in gratitude. Courses were served family-style with a simple rule: serve your neighbor, never yourself.
Laughter erupted as everyone tried to anticipate their neighbors’ needs and desires.
Over smoked salmon salad, gouda cheese twists, and a paella of local mussels and clams, any remaining tensions dissolved. Yet, beneath the joy, a quiet undercurrent lingered—a shared knowing of the river’s struggles, the weight of history, the hard choices ahead.
Before a dessert of giant meringue topped with fresh berries and jams, we shared words to describe the day: Peaceful. Hopeful. Optimistic. Inspired. Relieved.
Then, Free Borsey of the Lummi Nation stood to thank everyone for their curiosity and open hearts. “This event has changed me,” he later confided.
Brad Rader stood next. He faced the Lummi and Nooksack storytellers. “I need to apologize for not learning your stories earlier,” he stated with conviction.. “I’m thankful my daughters are here to learn them now. I want to share these stories with my farming community. I may not get them perfect. But I want my community to know the stories of your ancestors.
This is not my land. This is your land. And I believe we are now stewards, together.”
It was a powerful moment of reckoning and connection—a place we had not started at the beginning of the day.
Did we solve the complex water issues facing our region? No.
We did something deeper: we built understanding.
Some may call this work “soft,” but we know that making hard decisions is easier after you’ve walked a mile—and shared a meal—together. Listening to each other is important.
Listening to the river itself—its quiet warnings, its enduring song—may be just as vital.
We are building something beautiful here, one conversation at a time. But along with its currents of hope and connection, the river carries burdens we must face—scarcity, history, loss. So, we invite you: join us. Walk with us. Listen and share with us at our next gathering.
Thank you to everyone who showed up ready to listen, learn, and connect.
Stay tuned for a short film documenting this powerful day, crafted from the incredible footage and images captured by our talented crew.
Respectfully,
Aaron Straight, Ethan Smith, Jeff Bos, Christopher Remmers, Katie Schreiber, Mauri Ingram
The Water Wars (how to avoid) Team