Since Time Immemorial is a recurring series featuring community members whose families have been here since time immemorial. The ancestral knowledge carried by Lhaq’temish, Nooksack, and other Coast Salish peoples is knowledge about how to live in our shared home in a good, life-sustaining way. We live in a time when we need to restore our relationship with Mother Earth and with one another. We are grateful for these stories, told in the words of each featured individual.

Photograph by Julie Trimingham
Sqw-Qual-Ten Kyle Kinley is the son of Chexanexwh Larry Kinley and TahMahs Ellie Kinley, and the grandson of Jack and Gladys Solomon and Francis and Mary Kinley. He is a Lummi tribal member who fishes commercially for salmon, crab, shrimp, and halibut in the Salish Sea. He is currently a principal at Lummi Island Seagreens, a seaweed farm dedicated to providing local restaurants and businesses with sustainably grown seagreens.
“I am a fisherman in every sense. Born into it, you know, fishing family. But growing up I didn’t always want to do this, I wanted to hop off the boat and do other things. When I was a teenager I took a year off from fishing, and I missed it way more than I ever thought. That year really helped me realize how special it is, how passionate I am about fishing.”
Any good fishing memories you’re willing to share?
Maybe when I was 13, we had a really good sockeye year. The set was so big, we filled our entire hatch, and there was still so much fish left in the net. A tender came over and we started pumping fish out. We filled him up and then a second tender came over and he took about half of what was left. The set itself was only like 30 minutes and then we had eight hours of offloading the fish to other boats. That was a fun day. There have been some bad fishing years more recently. But as corny as it is, there’s the saying It’s fishing, not catching. There’s never any assurance that you’re going to go out there and catch anything at all, but you gotta do it anyway. It’s more than just fishing. There’s a sense of peace and wholeness out on the water. It feels good to do something my people have always done.
We’re out here today at Legoe Bay on Lummi Island. What’s your connection to this place?
My traditional name is connected to Legoe Bay, and my family owns reef net sites here. These are ancestral sites handed down for generations since time immemorial.
When you say reef net, what do you mean?
It’s a form of fishing in a fixed location. An artificial reef is created by placing a net between the boats. You wait for fish to come to you, you don’t go find the fish. When the fish come, the boats lift the net and harvest them. My people are Salmon People, reef net is our technology. Culturally, it’s incredibly important.
And you run a reef net gear?
My dad had a reef net built about ten years ago and we had it placed on one of our sites in Legoe Bay. We’re the only tribal reef net gear here right now. The forecast for salmon this summer is pretty bleak, though, so our gear probably won’t go in the water.
Is this where the seaweed project comes in?
Yeah, so we’re using my family’s traditional reef net sites to harvest sugar kelp instead of salmon. We seed weighted lines and, over the course of about six months, kelp grows along the lines. We’re the first fully licensed seaweed farm in Washington State.
This is seaweed for eating?
Yes. We’ve been drying some of it whole. or grinding it into pieces and drying it on sheets. Kind of like sushi seaweed or like kelp chips you can get in stores. Sweet and salty. A good crunch on most of it. If you blanche the wet stuff it’s good, kind of a spinach texture. Sugar kelp isn’t really on the palate for most people in America right now, so we’re trying to make something that a lot of people can enjoy on a regular basis.
You’re harvesting sugar kelp at your reef net site, but what about the gear itself?
The name of our reef net is the Spirit of the Sxwole. The name Swxole is the word for reef net in Xwlemi Chosen, our language.
I really hope to see more fish. I hope to see the reef net doing what it’s always done, you know, catch fish. Spend time on the water. It’s always been my belief that the boats like to work, they like to do what they were meant to do. There’s a spirit in that. A lot of people want to see reef netting done for the good of the people, because it’s what we’ve always done, it’s part of our way of life. But like I say, it’s also for the good of the reef net itself, the spirit of the reef net, to get a chance to do what it’s meant to do. The older I get, the more I realize how important that sort of thing is.
Hy’shqe, Kyle!
*the “big set” Kyle mentions was in 2010 and was 120,000 pounds of Fraser River sockeye.
About the Writer:
Julie Trimingham is grateful to make her home on traditional Lhaq’temish territory, and to work for the Sacred Lands Conservancy (SacredSea.org), an Indigenous-led 501c3 nonprofit organization dedicated to protecting the life, culture, and sanctity of the Salish Sea.