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The Independent
15-07-2025
- General
- The Independent
Native American teens kayak major US river to celebrate removal of dams and return of salmon
As bright-colored kayaks push through a thick wall of fog, voices and the beats of drums build as kayakers approach a crowd that has formed on the beach. Applause erupts as the boats land on the sandy spit that partially separates the Klamath River from the Pacific Ocean in northern California. Native American teenagers from tribes across the river basin push themselves up and out of the kayaks and begin to cross the sand, some breaking into a sprint. They kick playfully at the cold waves of the ocean they've been paddling toward over the last month — the ocean that's seen fewer and fewer salmon return to it over the last century as four hydropower dams blocked their ideal spawning grounds upstream. 'I think our ancestors would be proud because this is what they've been fighting for,' said Tasia Linwood, a 15-year-old member of the Karuk Tribe, on Thursday night, ahead of the group's final push to the end on Friday. The Klamath River is newly navigable after a decades-long effort to remove its four hydropower dams to help restore the salmon run — an ancient source of life, food and culture for these paddlers' tribes who have lived alongside the river for millennia. Youth primarily from the Yurok, Klamath, Hoopa Valley, Karuk, Quartz Valley and Warm Springs tribes paddled 310 miles (499 kilometers) over a month from the headwaters of the Wood River, a tributary to the Klamath that some tribes consider sacred, to the Pacific Ocean. The teens spent several years learning to navigate white water through Paddle Tribal Waters, a program set up by the nonprofit Rios to Rivers, to prepare local Native youth for the day this would be possible. During their last days on the water, the group of several dozen swelled to more than 100, joined by some family members and Indigenous people from Bolivia, Chile and New Zealand who face similar challenges on their home rivers. Dams built decades ago for electricity Starting in the early 1900s, power company PacifiCorp built the dams over several decades to generate electricity. But the structures, which provided 2% of the utility's power, halted the natural flow of a waterway that was once known as the third-largest salmon-producing river on the West Coast. With the dams in place, tribes lost access to a reliable source of food. The dams blocked the path to hundreds of miles of cool freshwater streams, ideal for salmon returning from the ocean to lay their eggs. Salmon numbers declined dramatically along with the water quality. In 2002, a bacterial outbreak caused by low water and warm temperatures killed more than 34,000 fish, mostly Chinook salmon. That galvanized decades of advocacy by tribes and environmental groups, culminating in 2022 when federal regulators approved a plan to remove the dams. Through protests, testimony and lawsuits, the tribes showcased the environmental devastation caused by the dams, especially to salmon. From 2023 to 2024, the four dams were dynamited and removed, freeing hundreds of miles of the Klamath. The renewable electricity lost by removing the hydropower dams was enough to power the equivalent of 70,000 homes, although PacifiCorp has since expanded its renewable sources through wind and solar projects. Two dams used for irrigation and flood control remain on the upper stretch of the river. They have 'ladders' that allow some fish to pass through, although their efficacy for adult salmon is questionable. On the journey, the paddlers got out of the river and carried their kayaks around the dams. For teens, a month of paddling and making memories The journey began June 12 with ceremonial blessings and kayaks gathered in a circle above a natural pool of springs where fresh water bubbles to the surface at the headwater of the Wood River, just upstream of the Klamath River. The youth camped in tents as they made their way across Upper Klamath Lake and down the Klamath River, jumping in the water or doing flips in their kayaks to cool down in the summer heat. A few kayakers came down with swimmer's ear, but overall everybody on the trip remained healthy. Nearly everyone had a story to share of a family's fishing cabin or a favorite swimming hole while passing through ancestral territory of the Klamath, Modoc, Shasta, Karuk and Yurok. More than 2,200 dams were removed from rivers in the United States from 1912 through 2024, most in the last couple of decades as momentum grows to restore the natural flow of rivers and the wildlife they support, according to the conservation group American Rivers. 'I believe that it was kind of symbolic of a bigger issue,' said John Acuna, member of the Hoopa Valley Tribe and a leader on the trip. Removal of dams represents end of long fight with federal government The federal government signed treaties with these tribes outlining their right to govern themselves, which is violated when they can't rely on their traditional food from the river. Acuna said these violations are familiar to many tribal communities, and included when his great-grandmother was sent to boarding school as part of a national strategy to strip culture and language from Native Americans. That history "comes with generational trauma,' he said. Their treaty-enshrined right to fish was also blatantly disregarded by regional authorities in the 1970s but later upheld by various court decisions, said Yurok council member Phillip Williams. Standing on a fog-shrouded boat ramp in the town of Requa awaiting the arrival of the youth, Williams recounted the time when it was illegal to fish here using the tribes' traditional nets. As a child, his elders were arrested and even killed for daring to defy authorities and fish in broad daylight. Fifty years later, with the hydropower dams now gone, large numbers of salmon are beginning to return and youth are paddling the length of the Klamath. 'If there's a heaviness that I feel it's because there's a lot of people that lived all in these places, all these little houses here that are no longer here no more," said Williams. 'They don't get to see what's happening today. And that's a heavy, heavy, feeling.' Even as a teen, Linwood says she feels both the pleasure of a month-long river trip with her friends and the weight of the past. 'I kind of feel guilty, like I haven't done enough to be fighting,' she said. "I gotta remember that's what our ancestors fought for. They fought for that — so that we could feel this joy with the river.' ___
Associated Press
15-07-2025
- General
- Associated Press
Native American teens kayak major US river to celebrate removal of dams and return of salmon
KLAMATH, Calif. (AP) — As bright-colored kayaks push through a thick wall of fog, voices and the beats of drums build as kayakers approach a crowd that has formed on the beach. Applause erupts as the boats land on the sandy spit that partially separates the Klamath River from the Pacific Ocean in northern California. Native American teenagers from tribes across the river basin push themselves up and out of the kayaks and begin to cross the sand, some breaking into a sprint. They kick playfully at the cold waves of the ocean they've been paddling toward over the last month — the ocean that's seen fewer and fewer salmon return to it over the last century as four hydropower dams blocked their ideal spawning grounds upstream. 'I think our ancestors would be proud because this is what they've been fighting for,' said Tasia Linwood, a 15-year-old member of the Karuk Tribe, on Thursday night, ahead of the group's final push to the end on Friday. The Klamath River is newly navigable after a decades-long effort to remove its four hydropower dams to help restore the salmon run — an ancient source of life, food and culture for these paddlers' tribes who have lived alongside the river for millennia. Youth primarily from the Yurok, Klamath, Hoopa Valley, Karuk, Quartz Valley and Warm Springs tribes paddled 310 miles (499 kilometers) over a month from the headwaters of the Wood River, a tributary to the Klamath that some tribes consider sacred, to the Pacific Ocean. The teens spent several years learning to navigate white water through Paddle Tribal Waters, a program set up by the nonprofit Rios to Rivers, to prepare local Native youth for the day this would be possible. During their last days on the water, the group of several dozen swelled to more than 100, joined by some family members and Indigenous people from Bolivia, Chile and New Zealand who face similar challenges on their home rivers. Dams built decades ago for electricity Starting in the early 1900s, power company PacifiCorp built the dams over several decades to generate electricity. But the structures, which provided 2% of the utility's power, halted the natural flow of a waterway that was once known as the third-largest salmon-producing river on the West Coast. With the dams in place, tribes lost access to a reliable source of food. The dams blocked the path to hundreds of miles of cool freshwater streams, ideal for salmon returning from the ocean to lay their eggs. Salmon numbers declined dramatically along with the water quality. In 2002, a bacterial outbreak caused by low water and warm temperatures killed more than 34,000 fish, mostly Chinook salmon. That galvanized decades of advocacy by tribes and environmental groups, culminating in 2022 when federal regulators approved a plan to remove the dams. Through protests, testimony and lawsuits, the tribes showcased the environmental devastation caused by the dams, especially to salmon. From 2023 to 2024, the four dams were dynamited and removed, freeing hundreds of miles of the Klamath. The renewable electricity lost by removing the hydropower dams was enough to power the equivalent of 70,000 homes, although PacifiCorp has since expanded its renewable sources through wind and solar projects. Two dams used for irrigation and flood control remain on the upper stretch of the river. They have 'ladders' that allow some fish to pass through, although their efficacy for adult salmon is questionable. On the journey, the paddlers got out of the river and carried their kayaks around the dams. For teens, a month of paddling and making memories The journey began June 12 with ceremonial blessings and kayaks gathered in a circle above a natural pool of springs where fresh water bubbles to the surface at the headwater of the Wood River, just upstream of the Klamath River. The youth camped in tents as they made their way across Upper Klamath Lake and down the Klamath River, jumping in the water or doing flips in their kayaks to cool down in the summer heat. A few kayakers came down with swimmer's ear, but overall everybody on the trip remained healthy. Nearly everyone had a story to share of a family's fishing cabin or a favorite swimming hole while passing through ancestral territory of the Klamath, Modoc, Shasta, Karuk and Yurok. More than 2,200 dams were removed from rivers in the United States from 1912 through 2024, most in the last couple of decades as momentum grows to restore the natural flow of rivers and the wildlife they support, according to the conservation group American Rivers. 'I believe that it was kind of symbolic of a bigger issue,' said John Acuna, member of the Hoopa Valley Tribe and a leader on the trip. Removal of dams represents end of long fight with federal government The federal government signed treaties with these tribes outlining their right to govern themselves, which is violated when they can't rely on their traditional food from the river. Acuna said these violations are familiar to many tribal communities, and included when his great-grandmother was sent to boarding school as part of a national strategy to strip culture and language from Native Americans. That history 'comes with generational trauma,' he said. Their treaty-enshrined right to fish was also blatantly disregarded by regional authorities in the 1970s but later upheld by various court decisions, said Yurok council member Phillip Williams. Standing on a fog-shrouded boat ramp in the town of Requa awaiting the arrival of the youth, Williams recounted the time when it was illegal to fish here using the tribes' traditional nets. As a child, his elders were arrested and even killed for daring to defy authorities and fish in broad daylight. Fifty years later, with the hydropower dams now gone, large numbers of salmon are beginning to return and youth are paddling the length of the Klamath. 'If there's a heaviness that I feel it's because there's a lot of people that lived all in these places, all these little houses here that are no longer here no more,' said Williams. 'They don't get to see what's happening today. And that's a heavy, heavy, feeling.' Even as a teen, Linwood says she feels both the pleasure of a month-long river trip with her friends and the weight of the past. 'I kind of feel guilty, like I haven't done enough to be fighting,' she said. 'I gotta remember that's what our ancestors fought for. They fought for that — so that we could feel this joy with the river.' ___ The Associated Press receives support from the Walton Family Foundation for coverage of water and environmental policy. The AP is solely responsible for all content. For all of AP's environmental coverage, visit
New York Times
17-06-2025
- New York Times
First Time in 100 Years: Young Kayakers on a Ride for the Ages
The remote and rugged Klamath River in Oregon and California, one of the mightiest in the American West and an ancient lifeline to Indigenous tribes, is running free again, mostly, for the first time in 100 years after the recent removal of four major dams. At the burbling aquifer near Chiloquin, Ore., that is considered the headwaters, a sacred spot for native people, a group of kayakers, mostly Indigenous youth from the river's vast basin began to paddle on Thursday. Ages 13 to 20, they had learned to kayak for this moment. Stroke by stroke, mile by mile, day by day, they plan to reach the salty water of the rugged Northern California coast, more than 300 miles away, in mid-July. If all goes as planned, the kayakers will pass the rehabilitated sites of the largest dam-removal project in U.S. history. They will pass salmon swimming upstream in places that the fish had not been able to reach since the early 1900s. They will pass through the ancient territory of their tribes — the Klamath, Shasta, Karuk, Hoopa Valley and Yurok among them. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
The Guardian
07-06-2025
- General
- The Guardian
The river that came back to life: a journey down the reborn Klamath
Bill Cross pulled his truck to the side of a dusty mountain road and jumped out to scan a stretch of rapids rippling through the hillsides below. As an expert and a guide, Cross had spent more than 40 years boating the Klamath River, etching its turns, drops and eddies into his memory. But this run was brand new. On a warm day in mid-May, he would be one of the very first to raft it with high spring flows. Last year, the final of four hydroelectric dams on the Klamath River were removed in the largest project of its kind in US history. Forged through the footprint of reservoirs that kept parts of the Klamath submerged for more than a century, the river that straddles the California-Oregon border has since been reborn. The dam removal marked the end of a decades-long campaign led by the Yurok, Karuk and Klamath tribes, along with a wide range of environmental NGOs and fishing advocacy groups, to convince owner PacifiCorp to let go of the ageing infrastructure. The immense undertaking also required buy-in from regulatory agencies, state and local governments, businesses and the communities that used to live along the shores of the bygone lakes. As the flows were released and the river found its way back to itself, a new chapter of recovery – complete with new challenges – emerged. Among the questions still being answered: how best to facilitate recreation and public connection with the Klamath while recovery continues. There are hopes for hiking trails, campgrounds and picnic spots. A wide range of stakeholders are still busy ironing out the specifics and how best to define the lines between private and public spaces. It's a delicate process. Not just the ecology is being restored; the Indigenous people whose ancestors relied on the river for both sustenance and ritual across thousands of years are also renewing their relationships with the land. More than 2,800 acres, some of which emerged from under the drained reservoirs after the dams came down, will be returned to Shasta Indian Nation, a tribe that was decimated when construction on the dams started in the early 1910s. Ready to be stewards, they are also now navigating their role as landowners in a recreation region. On 15 May, the first opening day for new access sites on the Klamath, visitors got the first real glimpse of the extensive restoration efforts since demolition began in 2023. It also served as an early trial for how the public and an eager commercial rafting community might engage with the river and the landscapes that surround it. As the sun broke through a week of cloudy weather that morning, rafters readied their gear near an access now bearing the traditional name in the Shasta language, K'účasčas (pronounced Ku-chas-chas). 'If we were here a little over a year ago, we would be standing on the edge of a reservoir,' said Thomas O'Keefe, the director of policy and science for American Whitewater, as he helped Cross and Michael Parker, a conservation biologist, ready their boat for a stretch of river above where the Iron Gate dam once stood. The Guardian joined them to try the section on opening day. O'Keefe has played a pivotal role in bridging recreation and restoration on the river. He hopes connecting people to the landscapes will encourage future care for them. 'The vast majority of people want to do the right thing,' O'Keefe said, describing the extreme care taken towards ecologically and culturally sensitive areas. 'We want to make sure we can define where that can happen.' There is still a lot of work left to do. Rustic roads that lead to the river's edge are minimally paved and laden with potholes. It's not immediately clear where visitors should park. Finishing touches are still being added on signs and infrastructure – from put-ins to picnic tables – with the completion of five new public recreation sites planned for 1 August. And for rafters, of course, the river itself must be relearned. Roughly 45 continuous miles were unleashed between the Keno and Iron Gate dams. Rapids long-dependent on artificial surges from the hydropower operations are at last being fueled by natural conditions. 'We are kind of writing the book on it,' said Bart Baldwin, the owner of Noah's River Adventures, a commercial outfit out of Ashland, Oregon, who has taken guests downriver for decades. While he admits the releases from the dams made for 'world-class' rapids, he says the loss has created new opportunities. 'The scenery is stunning and I think it's going to be special.' The waters of the Klamath have burst back to life in recent weeks, spurred by melt-off from strong winter storms. The Iron Gate run bumps and sways through a mix of class II and class III rapids, enough for a fun ride that's manageable for most experience levels. Upriver, the exciting and challenging K'íka·c'é·ki Canyon run winds through more than 2.5 miles of class IV rapids, beckoning those with more expertise. As he called out paddling orders to navigate his boat's small crew through splashy sections, Cross was relieved. In the years before the dams came out, he'd worked to outline the new river and its whitewater potential, armed with historical topographic maps, old photos and bathymetric data that showed depth and underwater terrain. Rooted in science, it requires a bit of guesswork. The volcanic geology here often comes with surprises. 'I spent the first six months sweating bullets watching the water recede and the channel scour and wondering if there was going to be a waterfall I didn't predict,' he said. Even with strong flows, there was space to breathe between more challenging sections. There were spots to beach boats for a picnic lunch, places to quietly float through the vibrant scenery. Vestiges of the recent past are still visible. Gradients of green shroud a scar left by the high-water mark of the reservoir. Columns of dried mud, remnants of the 15m cubic yards of sediment held behind the dams, are clumped along the river's edge. But there are also signs of nature's resilience. Swaying willows stand stalwart from the banks. Behind them, rolling hills splashed with orange and yellow wildflowers and ancient basalt pillars stretch to the horizon. Far from the hum of highway and roads, the silence here is broken only by the purr of the river as it rolls over rocks, accented with eagle calls or chattering sparrows who have already claimed sites along the water for their nests. Years before the dams were demolished, as teams of scientists, tribal members and landscape renovation experts tried to envision how recovery should unfold, there wasn't a guidebook to go by. There weren't records for how the heavily degraded ecosystems should look or function. 'Creating the mosaic we are currently seeing out there has been a work of educated estimation,' said Dave Coffman, a director for Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), the ecological recovery company working on the Klamath's restoration. 'There's nothing in that watershed that hasn't been touched by some sort of detrimental activity.' In less than a year's time, a dramatic reversal has taken place. Some spots have bounced back beautifully. Others had to be carefully cultivated to mimic what could have been if the dams never disrupted them. Native seeds were cast across the slopes, some by hand and others from helicopters. Heavy equipment trucked away mounds of earth. Invasive plants were plucked from around the reservoir footprint before they could spread across the barren ground. 'We are giving nature the kickstart to heal itself,' said Barry McCovey Jr, the fisheries department director for the Yurok tribe. What he calls 'massive scars' left by the dams 'aren't going to heal overnight or in a year or in 10 years', he added. Giving the large-scale process, time will be important – but a little help can go a long way. In late November last year, threatened coho salmon were seen in the upper Klamath River basin for the first time in more than 60 years. Other animals are benefiting, too, including north-western pond turtles, freshwater mussels, beavers and river took mere months for insects, algae and microscopic features of a flourishing food web to return and sprout. 'It's amazing to see river bugs in a river,' he said. They are good indicators of water quality and ecosystem health. It might seem like a happy ending. McCovey Jr said it's just the beginning. 'We are going to have ups and downs and it will take a long time to get to where we want to be,' he said. Ongoing Yurok projects will focus on making more areas 'fish-friendly' and closely monitoring aquatic invertebrates in coordination with the other tribes, researchers and advocacy organizations, and the Klamath River Renewal Corporation that was created to oversee the project. There are also far-flung parts of the watershed they are still working to restore. Close to 47,000 acres of ancestral Yurok homelands in the lower Klamath basin will be returned to the tribe this year after being owned and operated for more than a century by the industrial timber industry. Considered the largest land-back conservation deal in California history, the work there will complement and benefit from what's being done upriver. Even as recovery on the river remains perhaps at its most fragile, most people who have been part of this enormous undertaking are looking forward to welcoming the public. 'I think one of the biggest fears of this project is that it wouldn't work,' Coffman said. 'I am excited for more folks to get out here and see what we are capable of.' The work goes beyond the water line. The lands that hug this river have had their own transformation, along with the people who once called them home. 'People are really focused on dam removal and fish and recreation – and those are all great things – but it is a very personal story for us,' said Sami Jo Difuntorum, cultural preservation officer for the Shasta Indian Nation. As the tribe returns to their ancestral lands, they are envisioning ways to introduce themselves to a largely unfamiliar public. Their story is laced with tragedy, but also resilience. Shasta Indian Nation is not federally recognized, largely because they were massacred in the mid-19th century when gold-seeking settlers poured into the region. Their villages and sacred lands were drowned in the damming of the river. But the people tied to these lands have largely remained close by; many still reside in the county. As the waters of the reservoirs receded, it revealed a place held at the heart of their culture for thousands of years. 'The return of our land is the most important thing to happen for our people in my lifetime, for the generation before and the generation ahead,' Difuntorum said, standing on a quiet overlook watching the river course through the sacred K'íka·c'é·ki Canyon. This steep basalt chasm was left dewatered while the river was rerouted to the hydroelectric plant. 'There are so many things we are learning, like how to coexist as future landowners with the whitewater community, the local community, the fishermen – and then all the tribes,' she added. 'It's a lot – but it's all good stuff. It's huge for our people.' Looking ahead, plans are being made both for public use and for tribal reconnection. There will be access trails across their lands and efforts to plant traditional medicinal and ceremonial plants. Old buildings that provided electricity from the plant will be converted to an interpretive center. Places have been picked for sweat lodges, an official tribal office and the area where the first salmon ceremony will be held in more than century. Difuntorum's grandsons – ages nine and six – will be dancing in that ceremony this year. For the tribe, reconnecting to the river has provided an opportunity to reconnect to their culture and history. Part of reconnecting comes through reintroducing their language. James Sarmento, a linguist and tribal member, is helping Shasta people learn and use pronunciations for recovered places as they were once known along with the stories of creation tied to them. The public will learn them, too. 'It's about making a relationship and having conversations with the land,' Sarmento said. 'These are landscapes that we are not only working to protect – we are working to speak their names out loud.' The darker moments in the tribe's history live on. Remnants of the now-inoperable hydroelectric plant still sit solemnly on the embankment: coils of metal, enormous pipes, nests of wires that connect to nothing. A cave, tucked into the steep slopes among ancient lava fields where 50 or so Shasta people sought refuge in the mid-1800s, still bears the violent marks of a miners' raid that left five people, including women and children dead. Difuntorum said it used to be hard for her to see it all. 'I don't feel that now,' she said. 'Of all the places I have been in the world, this is where I feel the most me – out here at the water.' Cross, O'Keefe and Parker pulled up their paddles to ease into the final float of the run, gliding through the channel that once propped up the Iron Gate dam. Overhead, an osprey settled into its nest with a large fish as a throng of small birds scattered into the cloudless sky. There are sure to be challenges ahead. The climate crisis has deepened droughts and fueled a rise in catastrophic fire as this region grows hotter. Habitat loss and water wars will continue as city sprawl, agriculture and nature increasingly come into conflict. For now though, the river's recovery is a hopeful sign that a wide range of interests can align to make a positive change, even in a warming world. 'I never thought I would see the run under reservoirs be revealed,' Cross said, smiling as he packed up his boat. As a new chapter begins, the Klamath has already become a story of what's possible, fulfilling the hopes that the project could inspire others. And, after decades of advocacy and years of work, 'we have salmon and beaver and poppies,' he said. 'This river will go on forever.'
Sky News
05-06-2025
- Politics
- Sky News
'It's incredible': Seized ancestral homelands handed back to Yurok Tribe in California
Roughly 73 square miles of ancestral homelands have been returned to the Yurok Tribe in California. The move is what is known as a "land-back" deal - where homelands are returned to indigenous people through ownership or co-stewardship. The land-back conservation project along the Klamath River, a partnership between the Yurok Tribe and the Western Rivers Conservancy, is being called the largest in state history. The Yurok Tribe had 90% of its territory taken during the California Gold Rush in the mid-1800s, suffering massacres and disease from settlers. For more than a century, the land was then owned and managed by timber companies - severing the tribe's access to its homelands. However, over 73 square miles of land along Blue Creek stream and the eastern side of the lower Klamath River in northern California will now be permanently managed by the Yurok Tribe for fish, wildlife and forest health within the newly-created Blue Creek Salmon Sanctuary and Yurok Tribal Community Forest. Western Rivers Conservancy and the Yurok Tribe established a long-term partnership in 2009 to buy 47,097 acres along the lower Klamath and Blue Creek from Green Diamond Resource Company. It has cost the partnership $56million (£41m). The deal to hand back the land comes amid mounting recognition that indigenous people's traditional knowledge is critical to addressing climate change. Studies found the healthiest, most biodiverse and resilient forests are on protected native lands where indigenous people remained stewards. The tribe's plans include reintroducing fire as a forest management tool, clearing lands for prairie restoration, removing invasive species and planting trees while providing work for some of the tribe's more than 5,000 members and helping restore salmon and wildlife. The area is home to many creatures, including northern spotted owls, elk, deer and mountain lions. Galen Schuler, a vice president at Green Diamond Resource Company, the previous land owner, said the forests were sustainably managed by the firm when it managed them. Over the last decade, nearly 4,700 square miles (12,173 square kilometers) were returned to tribes in 15 states through a federal program. Barry McCovey Jr, whose ancestors were members of the Yurok Tribe, was involved in the effort to get the land returned to the tribe and said: "Snorkelling Blue Creek ... I felt the significance of that place to myself and to our people, and I knew then that we had to do whatever we could to try and get that back." Mr McCovey Jr, who is director of the Yurok Tribal Fisheries Department, would have to sneak through metal gates and hide from security guards in order to fish in the Blue Creek stream connected to the Klamath River. He said: "To go from when I was a kid and 20 years ago even, from being afraid to go out there to having it be back in tribal hands … is incredible." The tribe aims to restore the historic prairies, but members know it's going to take decades of work for the lands and waterways to heal. "And maybe all that's not going to be done in my lifetime," said Mr McCovey Jr. "But that's fine, because I'm not doing this for myself."
