Last weekend I went camping with my friend Joan and her parents. Joan's family is Yakima. That's a Native American group that's lived in Washington State for generations. Joan's mom and dad think it's important for people to leave the city and see more of nature. They often go camping in a valley that's lot like the one where their ancestors used to live. I'm sure those ancestors would be surprised by the way people use the land today.
All along the trail into the campsite, people had been dropping trash on the ground. We picked up any litter that we saw. Joan's father said that he'd been taught that everything in nature deserves respect. The Yakima depended on the wilderness, so they took care of it. The trails they made didn't harm the landscape in any way. I can’t say the same for all that plastic we picked up. I wonder why some people think it's okay just to throw their trash anywhere.
When we reached our campsite, Joan and I scrambled to put up our tent and unpack our fishing rods. We hadn't caught much by the time Joan's dad joined us. As he waded downstream, he told us that his grandfather had taken him salmon fishing many times. I asked what kind of rod his grandfather used, and he laughed.
"He didn't use a rod, Liz. He used a spear made from an alder pole. And he always caught more fish than I did with my store-bought rod and reel. I think he was trying to reach me to stay close to nature. What do you think?"
Joan's loud whoop stopped me from answering.
"I caught one!" she shouted, holding up a big steelhead salmon. "Great-grandpa might have been an expert with a spear, but I'll settle for my rod and reel."