Today I decided to take a different route on my morning walk. Instead of following the path along the shoreline to Rocky Point Park, I veered right at the fork in the trail and found myself wandering the grounds of the Noons creek hatchery.

Even though I have known about the hatchery for a long time, and have been along that trail more than once, it always surprises me how beautiful it is, especially on a sunny and crisp November morning such as this one.

There was a thin layer of sparking frost on all the trees and rocks surrounding the creek, crowding around the burbling stream like over protective grandparents. Standing tall and serene, the silver-haired giants create a safe haven for the salmon traveling upstream.

Salmon leave their ocean habitat during the summer to begin their journey upstream into freshwater, where they will find a safe place to spawn. This journey can take months, and most salmon usually reach their destination and spawn between the months of September and December.

As I walked beside the creek, I spotted a pair of chum salmon floating in a deeper pool, contemplating how to best wriggle their way past the shallower section up ahead. I watched them for a few minutes, silver and pink-red scales glinting in the sunlight as they jumped and flailed on the shallow sand-bar, flicking their tails in a mad dash to see who could reach the finish line first.

I marveled at their perseverance. It’s not easy being a salmon, it is a struggle to get upstream, and many fish don’t make it

A dead chum salmon at the Noons creek/Burrard inlet estuary

This is a story that the Kwikwetlem people know all too well.

As well as providing a place for young salmon to grow, the Noons creek hatchery has some interesting installations of native art, including an impressive looking house post, laying face up under a covered gazebo.

House post depicting the story of the Strong Fish at the Noons creek hatchery

This house post tells the story of the “Strong Fish,” meant to be a “tribute to the strength and perseverance of the Kwikwetlem first nation.”In 1914, BC Hydro built a dam on Coquitlam lake, which flooded the traditional territory and main village of the Kwikwetlem people. Not only did the people lose their home forever, the salmon did too. The dam was blocking their way to the upper water shred and spawning grounds, so the Kwikwetlem people decided to help the salmon by carrying them up past the dam in baskets.

A poster about the story of the Strong Fish next to the house post at Noons creek

Unfortunately, their noble effort to help the salmon up the Coquitlam River was stopped by the construction of a gate. The Kwikwetlem people were no longer allowed to pass through, and the salmon never came back up the river.Over a hundred years have gone by, and the situation is still largely the same; there are very few salmon in the Coquitlam River, but the strength and spirit of the Kwikwetlem people still lives on through the Kokanee salmon (kokanee is the name given to salmon that don’t migrate) landlocked above the Coquitlam lake dam. These salmon are the ancestors of the sockeye salmon that were once transported over the dam in the peoples baskets. The people adapted, and so did the fish.

Salmon have important cultural significance in the many native bands that span across Canada. The Kwikwetlem nation is just one of them.

I came to the Noons creek hatchery to enjoy a nice walk and some fresh air, but came away with a new appreciation and reverence for the sense of duty the Kwikwetlem people have to their land.

There is no doubt that Western culture is becoming increasingly sick. We are lonelier, have more chronic diseases, have more mental health struggles, are more polarized, and the list goes on.

We have become selfish, taking from the earth to provide for all our little comforts, with nothing to give in return. We don’t appreciate nature as we should, confined indoors to our glowing screens as we look for validation from people who live across oceans. We need to stop focusing so much on ourselves, drawing more and more inward into isolation. We must start focusing outwards on how we can help each other and the earth. We cannot do everything alone. We need community. We need a sense of duty, a purpose for life other than ourselves.

I witnessed the strength of the salmon making their way upstream, and I had no doubt they will make it, but even the strongest of us needs a helping hand now and again. The strength and perseverance needed to endure hardship is a group effort.

The story of the Strong fish shows us that our culture is lacking strong communities.

Perhaps we should look to the fish for help.