Lax An Zok Meziadin Salmon Fishway

QUESTION:  Where can you score an armload of Sockeye salmon hand-smoked over a wood fire at a genuine Native American fishing camp?

ANSWER:  At the Lax An Zok Meziadin Fishway maintained by the Wilps Wii Litsxw tribe near Meziadin Lake in British Columbia!

How is a secret, because the smoked salmon was gifted to us.  We will, however, tell you the rest of the story, as follows:

The Meziadin River which drains Meziadin Lake, flows into the Nass River system approximately 110 miles from where the Nass River empties into Portland Inlet and ultimately into and on into Haida Gwai in the Inland Passage near Prince Rupert. The Meziadin River is home to wild Sockeye salmon, large Chinook, Steelhead and Coho. The Meziadin fishway was constructed to bypass a series of waterfalls known as Victoria Falls. A fishway had originally been constructed in 1910 with materials hauled up by packhorse from Stewart, BC, some 45 miles away.

Over the years, the original fishway deteriorated, and studies in the late 1950’s indicated high fish mortality was occurring due to the inability of the salmon to move past Victoria Falls.  The current Meziadin fishway was built in 1966 to provide access to existing spawning grounds above the falls, including Meziadin Lake and some of the streams that empty into the lake, and to provide a method of enumerating salmon runs and determining the spawning escapement of Sockeye salmon in the Meziadin system. It was thought that the Meziadin system produced less than 40% of the total Nass River sockeye return. Since the completion of the fishway it has been discovered that 70-80% of the Nass River sockeye run returns to the Meziadin system.

The fishway and the falls are built on Wilps Wii Litsxw tribal ground and is maintained by the tribe alongside fishing platforms that are used by the native fishing camp at the same location.  The compound and fishway are an important cultural site for the local Nass people and are the center of social activities associated with the fishing.  As it turned out, when we arrived on Friday, August 23, 2019, we had missed a big barbeque the community had held the previous weekend; but more on that later.

The Meziadin fishway was designed to operate unmanned but also to hold enumeration facilities, which are operated by support personnel from the tribal community. Since 1966, the fishway has been manned during each season. Operations usually begin in the first week of July. The exact starting date is determined by water levels, which must be low enough to allow personnel to enter the water and install trap panels at the end of the fishway.

We read about the fishway and wanted to see how it worked, so we researched its location and headed down a short forest road off the Stewart-Cassiar highway a short 7 miles or so south of Meziadin Junction:

While the road is passable to all vehicles, it is horribly pocked by potholes which were, this day, filled with muddy water.  Dusty told us s/he didn't mind getting muddy (again!) in pursuit of knowledge, so we continued down the road to a parking area described to us by a German couple we met on the way down the forest road.

From the parking area, we walked a short distance down toward the roaring Meziadin River and were greeted by this beautiful, hand-hewn wooden sign advising us that this was the Gitanyow Traditional Fishing site, also known as the historic Lax An Zok Fish Camp:

While a number of cabins for living quarters were located upstream, this part of the fishing camp boasted a kitchen and supply cabin, an outhouse, a barbeque pit and three vehicles, not to mention some flags:

Sturdy wooden picnic tables were arranged around the barbeque pit, along with a sign advising, "BBQ Today."  We thought, "Wow, we got here just in time for a barbeque!"  That wasn't quite true.  It turned out that the barbeque had been held last weekend, and the vehicles were camp workers who were here to finish cleaning up from the event.

We didn't spot the workers themselves at first, so we walked out to look at the fishway (sometimes called a fish ladder or weir).  It had been built on one edge of the river alongside the falls, to give the salmon a feasible channel to swim up on their way to spawn in Meziadin Lake (or wherever):

The falls themselves were very impressive, with a huge volume of water flying over the spillway, made all the louder and larger by the heavy rains this area has experienced during the last week:

Below the fishway, in a quite eddy along the edge of the raging river, we could see a fishing platform and trap.  Depending on the activities of the day, people could either stand on the platform and dip or floss for salmon, or they could open the trap, catch the fish, and tag them for enumeration.

Now comes the accidental, secret part.

We were just finishing our look around when we spotted some young workers, who told us they were loading a trailer with equipment and supplies from the barbeque.  The head man was inside the kitchen/supply cabin.  He came out and cheerfully explained the fishway, its purpose, the barbeque and what the community's purpose was.  Incidentally, this was also his property, so he was probably a pretty important person, although he was very nice and unassuming.

We asked about the t-shirts with gorgeous tribal art on them and purchased ones for each of us.  We also made a gift to the tribe for the fishway.  To our surprise, the boss man offered us some of the smoked salmon they had left over from the barbeque.

While we talked, he related to us the sad recent history of Sockeye salmon in the Meziadin system.  In a recent year, the enumerators only counted 300 Sockeye passing this point to swim upstream and spawn.  This is an ecological and cultural tragedy of immense proportions.  Efforts are being made to increase the spawning and fish population, but it will take several years to replenish the stock.

We left feeling sad, but educated, and thankful that these kind people shared some of their very rare fishing product with us.  We thought that we might help by putting a voodoo curse on commercial salmon fishing along the British Columbia, Washington and Oregon coasts.

Perhaps we will.