Reciprocal Relationship: Restoring & Receiving on the Skykomish
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View of the Skykomish River. Photos provided in this article by Paul Cereghino.
Paul Cereghino
As a Restoration Ecologist, Paul Cereghino recognizes the enormity of the challenge we’re facing in our region.
“If you think about every river and stream, every wetland, all the forested buffers, it's over 1,000,000 acres of land across the lowland Salish Sea. A lot of this landbase is degraded and needs restoration,” Paul explains.
As a NOAA employee for over 20 years, Paul’s work has focused on reforesting the riverscape, but even as he’s done so, he’s had nagging questions in the back of his mind about whether it would be enough on its own.
“We’re doing really important projects to heal large ecological wounds,” said Paul. “But it’s become obvious to me that what we may need even more is a culture that's capable of supporting and sustaining those forests over time.”
Paul wondered how he could help create opportunities for people to reintegrate with the natural world and have a sustainable, reciprocal relationship—as indigenous cultures have for thousands of years.
“We often frame conservation as saving nature by removing humans,” said Paul. “But I think what the land needs is for us to be present to support the regeneration of ecosystems.”
View of the Skykomish River on a calm misty morning
New Dimensions in Restoration
This need has been recognized by a growing number of people and is referred to as Biocultural Restoration—the science and practice of restoring not only ecosystems, but also human and cultural relationships to place. Read more about this practice.
Paul figured that one of the most straightforward ways for people to build a connection with these riverscapes was for them to spend more time there. He envisioned something beyond the standard three-hour volunteer restoration work party. Not more time for participants to work—more time for them to tune in and listen.
This was something Paul had learned many years ago, in his previous career in landscape construction installing restoration projects. He’d arrive at the site early, when there was often still a mist lingering, and take some time to just sip his coffee.
“Those moments were really important, when I was trying to make sense of what I was doing there. And then pausing at the end of the day to think about what I’d done and what's left to do.”
For Paul, these were times where science shifted to craft.
“I love my science education,” said Paul. “It’s a great tool for developing frameworks. But restoration isn’t always clear and simple—it requires craft to recognize the subtle needs of specific situations.”
A Place to Begin
During the camping weekends, participants conduct restoration efforts and cultivate and collect food, medicine, or plant materials in return.
But how do you motivate people to take the time to develop this craft? Paul found his first clue when he stumbled across a website for Ecosystem Restoration Camps in Spain.
“They were turning restoration into a recreational activity,” said Paul. “I thought, why can’t I gather a group of people to camp on a site where they could do meaningful work, learn from one another, and connect with the land?”
What seemed like a fairly simple idea turned out to be much more complicated. Finding a location wasn’t the problem, it was camping that became a roadblock for the public or private owners of the property.
“During each negotiation they backed out because the idea of bringing a crew of volunteers and sleeping on their land didn’t fit their image of conservation work.”
After four years of trying, Paul teamed up with Snohomish Conservation District’s Agroforester, Carrie Brausieck in his search for a site. After meeting with several agencies, they finally found a match with the Tulalip Tribes who were in the process of acquiring land on the Skykomish River.
“They didn't see any confusion at all about why camping and foraging might be an appropriate part of conservation,” said Paul.
Integrating Agroforestry
“We humans invest where we get value. But getting value doesn’t have to be destructive”
While Paul has supported the project at the Skykomish River site in his role at NOAA through grant writing and site design, each time he shows up to do work, he is acting as a volunteer for the Snohomish Conservation District through the agroforestry program. As a result of the partnership between the agroforestry program, Paul, and the Tulalip Tribes, one daylong design charrette event and four field station camping weekends have been held since 2022.
During the camping weekends, agroforestry is integrated by creating an intentionally reciprocal relationship—where people provide care through restoration and then also cultivate and collect food, medicine, or plant materials in return.
“We humans invest where we get value. But getting value doesn’t have to be destructive,” said Paul.
For example, mornings at the site are spent doing standard restoration work like planting projects and removing invasive species. However, they also use the abundance of native plants already present on the site, like Red Osier Dogwood and Cottonwood, to propagate cuttings for other restoration projects.
The afternoons are an opportunity for volunteers to “choose their own adventure.” Participants might learn a skill like basket weaving from plant material harvested at the site. In fact, one afternoon, a participant taught the group how to weave baskets from the invasive English Ivy they’d pulled up that morning!
They can also choose to do activities like foraging for foods such as Mushrooms or Nettles.
Campers weave baskets out of invasive English ivy that was pulled from the ground that morning.
Pictured: one of the woven baskets created from campers.
Foraging for food, like nettles, improves connection to the land.
Nettles are high in minerals and protein and make for a great foraging plant!
Foraging has been recognized as an important biocultural practice that bolsters connection with the land. It can also provide deeply nutritious food, which Paul can attest to from his own experience.
“The Nettles are so invigorating and I would say almost ‘meaty’ because of their high mineral content,” said Paul. “It feels like eating something that your body's hungry for.”
Paul also envisions opportunities to blend restoration and the cultivation of medicinal plant materials.
“If you have a sunny edge where you need to remove Himalayan Blackberry, why not grow a thicket of Cottonwood coppice? Not only does that provide stakes for other restoration projects, you could also harvest buds for medicinal purposes.”
Frequent Light Touches
The hope is that the community connection and the reciprocal relationship with the land will keep people coming back year after year, which could be a significant benefit to long-term restoration outcomes.
“Most riparian restoration grants last two to three years,” said Paul. “However, to go from a Blackberry patch to a young forest typically takes seven to ten years, and that's still a forest with low biodiversity.”
Having volunteers over a longer period allows for maintenance of existing plantings and the continued addition of new species that add biodiversity as the ecosystem evolves. It also allows for what Paul refers to as “frequent light touches” which can help keep invasive species like English Ivy in check.
“Removing Ivy is a laborious pain,” said Paul. “So having people in the forest lets them keep an eye out and pull up small patches rather than waiting for a future problem that requires a large-scale solution.”
Building a New Dream
Paul sees the biocultural model of restoration as an addition to the menu, not a replacement for the restoration work currently being done.
“When I talk to folks involved in salmon recovery, it’s like being in a hospital triage ward—they’re busy just trying to get trees in the ground,” said Paul. “But they appreciate that we’re helping to take restoration to another level.”
Paul would love the Skykomish River site to be a prototype for other locations, but he knows it faces challenges, including cultural norms around camping.
“It’s quite an intimate request when you ask a public or a private land manager if you can go sleep on their land,” explains Paul. “I had one friend who said that it's not that they don't want you to sleep on their land, it's that they don't want you to dream on their land.”
But for Paul, this project goes beyond reforesting damaged riverscapes.
“On top of all that, we seem to have disturbed the climate a little bit, so we're facing a shift in the ecological baseline that's going to cause a transformation of all of these systems in ways that we don't understand.”
Considering that, giving people the chance to spend time on the land and dream up something new may be exactly what's needed.
