My water specialist mother captured this accidental double exposure on her Canon in 1990 – a melding of toddler me with an aerial shot of the Scott River. Growing up, I rebelled against the perceived drudgery of my parent’s environmental work and threw myself into the arts, studying theatre, music, dance, and visual arts. But my mother’s photo was prescient. The Scott River would pull me back to it. 

In the summer of 2021,  I got a frantic call from my mother saying that the millions of tree seedlings my father grew in his reforestation nursery might die because of new water regulations. Water conflicts were a constant in my childhood- “Water for Fish” or “Water for Farms”— but it felt like we’d reached an inflection point. The last 20 years were the driest on record. The previously strong Chinook Salmon populations started shrinking when the threatened Coho Salmon were beginning to rebound. The nearby Klamath Dams were about to come down to increase fish access and cut down on disease. But as the river recovered, the Tribal Nations and fishing communities would depend even more on the fish from Klamath tributaries like the Scott River. This confluence of events could lead to change, destruction, rebirth, or maybe all three.

Documenting personal struggles and inviting my family and community into the public eye is both vulnerable and an immense responsibility. But part of what drove me to make this documentary was the experience of growing up with liberal views in a generally conservative community. As a child, I was encouraged to voice unpopular opinions and, in turn, I learned the power of listening to opposing views. These experiences give me hope that we can rise above the polarization of our times.

As activist Mariame Kaba asserts, "Hope is a discipline." For me, this film is an embodiment of that discipline.