On Sunday, October 20th, fifteen days after the powerful launch of Climate Catastrophe Ground Zero (ccg0), members of the coalition gathered for their first official event—a field trip to the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge, located on the homelands of the Nisqually people. It was a modest beginning, but one that underpins the perspective we’ll carry forward throughout the two-year plan: education, boots on the ground, common purpose, working together, and a vision of a thriving Tacoma, better than we found it.
However, neither this field trip, the refuge itself, nor the ccg0 coalition is where this story truly begins. In the grand timeline of history, we don’t have to look too far back. I like to say it all happened just two grandmothers ago. If you know an 80-year-old today, you’re halfway there—because if there had been an 80-year-old around at the time of their birth, two such people, who could have feasibly known each other, would have lived through the entire period of subjugation faced by the original peoples of this region, from the start until today. This isn’t distant history; it’s the story of grandparents and great-grandparents. People alive today knew someone from then, and many more are just a familiar family story away. We often hear tales of a great-grandfather who “built a house with his bare hands and worked the land,” but we rarely hear about how that land was violently stolen from Indigenous families, many of whom didn’t survive.
Only 160 years ago marks the treaty era, when free Indigenous people were forced to give up most of their land, losing everything except a few guarantees—the right to continue their traditional way of life on the remaining lands and to sustain themselves from their natural harvests.
Tribal Resistance
The history of the Nisqually Estuary, much like that of the Puyallup Estuary, is marked by tribal resistance and significant fights for protection. The Nisqually Tribe, along with other Coast Salish tribes, fought fiercely to maintain control over these critical waters and lands.
After the signing of the Medicine Creek Treaty in 1854—which was designed to strip tribes of their land and force them onto reservations—many tribal members opposed it but had little choice but to accept its terms. The treaty was not willingly signed; tribal leaders were coerced, and their signatures marked only with X’s beside their names. Despite this, resistance simmered, as the devastating effects of colonial encroachment rippled through the Coast Salish people. Settlers engaged in genocidal behavior, and over the next century, tribes barely survived further encroachment, forced assimilation, and relocation. That treaty was signed just a mile or so south of where we were meeting.
The Dawes Act of 1887 was a key enabler of the injustice, creating a bonafide legal framework that allowed settlers to seize tribal land. This led to widespread abuses, manipulation, fraud, and violence as strategies to force Indigenous families off their lands. By the turn of the 20th century, these policies had decimated the Coast Salish way of life to the point that surviving tribes had absorbed smaller neighborhood tribes. And yet, despite everything, the people endured.
Much of the Nisqually Estuary’s modern-day protection can be traced back to the Fish Wars of the 1960s and 70s, which brought national attention to the tribes’ treaty rights to fish in their usual and accustomed places. Activists like Janet McCloud (Tulalip), Billy Frank Jr.(Nisqually), Ramona Bennett(Puyallup), Al Bridges(Puyallup), and Hank Adams (Assinaboine) were instrumental in securing the landmark Boldt Decision in 1974. This decision not only upheld the rights of Medicine Creek treaty tribes to fish and protect their estuaries but also set legal precedents that safeguarded these rights across all treaties.
This deep history of resistance contrasts sharply with the environmental degradation of the Puyallup Estuary, but it also demonstrates that the fight to protect these lands and waters has always been led by the tribes. Today, through the work of ccg0, this battle continues. The Nisqually Estuary offers a vision of what can be preserved and restored when Indigenous-led efforts succeed.
This field trip wasn’t just about walking through the breathtaking beauty of the refuge; it was a defining moment for our coalition. It represented the collective realization of the connections we are building between our community and the land. The Nisqually Estuary, located just 20 miles from Tacoma—now a city built around the Puyallup Tribe’s homelands—serves as a sanctuary of wetlands and wildlife. But it also stands as a powerful symbol of what the Puyallup people have lost, in a place that has become industrialized, polluted, and overtaken by urban sprawl.
Always Be Humble and Ready to Learn
Our day at the Nisqually Estuary began with a welcome from Rob Satiacum (Puyallup Tribe). He grounded us in the importance of the land we stood upon, connecting us to the waters of the Nisqually and drawing a direct comparison to the waters of the Puyallup that flow through Tacoma—emphasizing how both estuaries hold deep significance for the tribes who have cared for them since time immemorial.
After Rob’s welcome, Aife took the lead to speak. As an ally to Indigenous causes and a member of Climate Alliance of the South Sound, Aife had volunteered to guide us through this foundational ccg0 event. Aife shared a perspective as an environmental science graduate from the University of Washington and spoke to the unique ecology of the Nisqually Estuary, explaining how estuaries like these serve as vital ecosystems for countless species. The teaching reminded us of the history of this land, once shaped by forces of colonization, and the ongoing efforts to heal the damage done.
We were urged to think about the connections between land, water, and people, and how vital it is to protect these spaces from the harmful impacts of industrial development. Aife spoke of the opportunity that lay before us—not just to protect the Nisqually, but to carry the lessons learned here back to Tacoma and the Puyallup Estuary, where so much has already been lost to pollution and urban sprawl. Aife’s words emphasized how, just a few miles away, these ecosystems could potentially thrive once more if we commit to fighting for them.
At this moment, however, our reflection was briefly interrupted. As we were gathering for the opening talk, the park ranger, Julia, approached us with a gentle reminder about the rules of the refuge: no loudspeakers were allowed at all (we had a microphone system), and banners were to be displayed only in designated areas and not without a permit. I took full responsibility for the oversight, knowing we had prepared to use the speaker but had not checked the specific guidelines. Julia was understanding, and after Aife finished speaking, we exchanged contact information so I could follow up. The interruption was a reminder that we must always be humble in spaces like this and respect the sanctity of areas preserved for wildlife and people alike.
The contrast between the Nisqually Estuary and the Puyallup Estuary could not be clearer. While Nisqually is a sanctuary, carefully managed with rules that protect its delicate ecosystems, Tacoma’s Puyallup Estuary tells a different story—a story of neglect and industrial exploitation. Without clear guidelines and respect for the land, the Puyallup Estuary has been degraded by pollution, toxic waste, and unchecked development. If we do not protect places like Nisqually, we risk repeating the same mistakes. The rules may seem like small inconveniences, but they are what allow this estuary to thrive, preserving it as a refuge for both wildlife and people. The alternative is a place like the Port of Tacoma—where the waters are used and abused, and where there is little room left for nature to recover.
These lessons in humility are an important reminder that even as we fight to protect the Puyallup Estuary, we must learn to respect the spaces that have been preserved and to honor the people who protect them. It gave us another opportunity to ground ourselves in the very principles of respect and stewardship that we hope to carry forward through ccg0. The Nisqually Estuary, like the Puyallup, is a place of resilience, and we learned that our journey forward must be rooted in both action and respect.
Walking Together: Literally and Figuratively
We began our walk at the trailhead, with a reminder to everyone to look out for our elders, ensuring that the pace was comfortable for all. Regular breaks were planned, and refreshments were made available, as we wanted this journey to reflect the collective care that ccg0 is built upon. As we set off, there was a very real connection—not just to the land but to each other. Walking together, we embodied the Lakota principle of Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ—the understanding that all things are connected, all related. Every step we took felt like a reflection of that connection, a reminder that the health of our communities is intertwined with the health of the land and water that sustains us.
Benita Moore (Standing Rock) who is the founder and chair of Native Daily Network, lightened the mood as we walked, sharing stories that brought smiles and laughter, including the playful “Pussy Willow song” that had everyone chuckling. It was a joyful moment, but also one of deep connection—an acknowledgment that even in serious work, there is space for joy and community.
When we reached the Nisqually River Overlook, we paused to take photos, capturing a moment that felt like the culmination of our collective journey. Standing before the flowing waters of the Nisqually River, Rob Satiacum (Puyallup Tribe) gave us a powerful lesson about the water. “This is my ministry,” he began. “The water, the saline, the fresh—all of it. We need it. We don’t just want it, we need it, and so does all life. We are oceans and rivers, the same stuff flows through us. But we are not living in accordance with the water. We are working against it, and that’s why we are where we are today.”
Reflections and Snakes and Caterpillars and Things
As we walked back, the peaceful sounds of the estuary were briefly interrupted by a flurry of excitement when a garter snake darted into the brush. Its sudden appearance startled a few, but soon the group was captivated, watching as the snake slithered away to safety. It was another reminder of the abundant wildlife thriving in this sanctuary, where creatures large and small lived freely, undisturbed by the industrial scars so common just miles away.
At one point, a lone caterpillar caught our eye, slowly making its way across the path, oblivious to the danger posed by the feet of hikers. Without a second thought, one of us pulled out a business card and gently scooped the caterpillar onto it. We carefully carried the tiny traveler to the other side of the path, giving it a free—and safe—ride away from harm. It was a small gesture, but it felt symbolic of everything the day had been about: care, attention, and the importance of ensuring that every form of life, no matter how small, has the chance to thrive.
This act of kindness seemed to echo the larger themes of our walk: the relationships between land, water, and community, and our responsibility to protect them all. Just as we made sure that the caterpillar continued its journey safely, we are working to ensure that our home in Tacoma can also thrive—free from industrial harm, with all of our relations treated with the respect they deserve.
As we approached the end of the trail, the feeling of unity among the group was palpable. This trip grounded us in the understanding of the deep, reciprocal relationships between land, water, and community. It was a reflection of Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ—the belief that we are all connected—and it solidified the vision we are working toward a future where the Puyallup Estuary can once again flow as freely and healthily as the Nisqually.
The Next Step
The next step in our journey is the Rock of Burden action at Tacoma City Hall on October 22nd, where we will present five symbolic boulders to represent the burdens carried by Tacoma’s communities, including our houseless neighbors. These boulders, like the estuaries, represent both the weight of the challenges we face and the strength of the community standing together to lift those burdens.
