In Neah Bay, Washington, a black wooden canoe sits in the harbor, dwarfed by white motor-powered fishing boats. From the Makah Maiden Café, one of two restaurants in town, one can see this low, graceful vessel and feel the meaning it must hold for the Makah. For, as this paper will discuss, this lonely canoe signifies that Makah culture is not dead.

Neah Bay, and the rest of the Makah Indian Reservation, sits close to Cape Flattery, one of the so-called "four corners" of the United States, as it is the westernmost point on the continental U.S. From Cape Flattery, the land wraps around from the northern coast of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, to the western Pacific Coast, forming the tip of the Olympic Peninsula. According to tradition, as well as archaeology, the Makah, one of the Nuu-Chah-Nulth (formerly known as Nootka) people, have been here for 200-300 years (Ames and Maschner, 1999: 165).

Archaeological excavations at the historical Makah village of Ozette in the 1970s yielded some 55,000 artifacts that tell a detailed story of tribal life in the past. Ozette was a living village when it was covered by a massive mudslide around 1500 AD. Because of the moist conditions, organic materials which usually decay in archaeological contexts, were preserved. The archaeologists at Ozette found many carved wooden objects which offer insight into Makah artistic and cultural life heretofore unavailable archaeologically.

One of the things the Ozette site confirmed for the Makah was the central place of whaling in their culture. Whale bones were found all over the site being used as drains, being worked, carved, and used by the residents in many practical ways. Evidence for the central place of the whale in the spirituality of prehistoric Makah was also found in abundance. A large wooden box carved like a whale fin and studded with sea otter teeth was one of the site’s most stunning finds. Another find—a wooden plank carved with the image of Thunderbird lifting a whale with its talons—referred to a Makah myth still known in the community. The archaeological findings increased Makah interest in the lives of their ancestors and led to a desire to revive many ancient traditions. Modern Makah were intimately involved in the excavations at Ozette and now curate all of the artifacts in the Makah Cultural and Research Center (MCRC). In addition to caring for and exhibiting the artifacts, the Makah who work at the MCRC have implemented an extensive language preservation and learning program to keep the tongue of their ancestors alive. Research, educational programs, and traditional ceremonies all take place within the walls of the MCRC.

With the physical evidence of the importance of whaling uncovered at Ozette and the increasing community interest in ancient practices, the Makah were ready to undertake the enormous task of reviving the most sacred ritual of their ancestors. At the outset, no one could have imagined what an enormous task this would be. To hunt a whale at the end of the late twentieth century was a very different thing than it had been some 70 years earlier. Not only did the Makah need the permission of the American government, they needed to abide by the regulations of the International Whaling Commission and the humane killing techniques of animal rights legislation. At the same time, the Makah had to make the hunt traditional. They had to mold tradition to modernity and recreate an ancient practice in the present day. The intention to whale began simply enough. As Makah elder John McCarty remembers it there was an article in a local newspaper reporting that the gray whale was being taken off the endangered species list. He was on the docks of the Makah fisheries when someone said, "Hey, John! How’d you like to go for a whale hunt? (Sullivan, 1998)" Once the words were spoken, the idea took off within the community and soon the Makah had formed a committee whose purpose was to plan out the first whale hunt since the 1920s.

Although the Makah retained the right to whale, as insured by an 1855 treaty, they had willingly ceased the practice when the gray whale was put on the endangered species list. But with its removal in 1994, the Makah saw an opportunity to strengthen their community through tradition. Soon enough, however, the Makah found themselves in the center of an international debate on whaling and were forced into a global conversation on animal rights.

While the Makah, neighboring Northwest Coast peoples, and member nations of the International Whaling Commission rejoiced in this hunt (the latter for very different reasons than the former), members of animal rights groups protested the killing of the once endangered gray whale. The clash of native and environmentalist interests caused a media frenzy in the remote and unlikely town of Neah Bay.

The American public was confronted with a battle with no clear division between the good guys and the bad. Both native culture and gray whales have been mistreated; both have been endangered; and both are underdogs in American culture. The Makah embraced their underdog image and managed to convince the majority of America that their hunt was a cultural good. They asserted their right to whale in the only way they could communicate directly with the rest of the country—visually.