Yakama Nation elder, ‘secret sauce' for Columbia River impasses, dies

Editor's note: The Seattle Times is not including an image of Yellowash or using his English name in this report out of respect for Yakama traditional laws and by request of family.

Yellowash, a Yakama Nation elder, spiritual leader and voice for the Columbia River, died last month. He was 74.

To travel the Columbia Basin and Northwest is to trace Yellowash's impact. From the cleanup of toxic pollution underway, to the annual lamprey celebration at Willamette Falls and the carefully curated halls of the Burke Museum.

Raised in the Seven Drums religion as well as the Indian Shaker Church, he was called upon to lead naming ceremonies, memorials, First Food feasts and funerals, his brother Shx-myah, also known as E. Arlen Washines, said. Yellowash's deep roots in his traditional laws and teachings also shaped his career in law enforcement spanning decades, elected leadership and fight for the health of Nch'i-Wána, the Columbia River.

He was always working, and his fight was for the next generations.

A calm, commanding presence, Yellowash was the "secret sauce" when discussions would hit an impasse, helping to advance federal commitments to toxic cleanups, and build partnerships to restore the river. He was a warm, welcoming face at annual parades and celebrations, a proud father and grandfather, a mentor, leader and speaker.

"He reminded us of who we are and where we're from, and those important parts that make us, and our role that we have within our natural world, the role we have in those commitments to salmon, commitments to healthy forests," said Phil Rigdon, director of natural resources with the Yakama Nation. "We will carry that blessing that he gave us throughout our whole lives."

Born to Lena Meninick and Edward Emmett Washines, Yellowash was a descendant of the Klickitat Tribe, one of the 14 tribes and bands that were signatories to the 1855 U.S.-Yakama Nation treaty. He was one of seven brothers and two sisters raised on the family homestead in Satus along the Yakima River, as well as Rock Creek.

He had said he first acquired the taste of the sacred food lamprey, also known as eels, through a dried tail his mother used as a pacifier. He was alive to remember a time when Celilo Falls was, too - recalling its mist and roar in a 2013 interview with The Oregonian.

He earned academic and athletic accolades, and played basketball, football and baseball at Riverside Indian School in Anadarko, Okla. Yellowash would go on to attend Southwestern Oklahoma State University, then the University of Washington, developing then his Seattle sports fandom that would continue throughout his life.

When he went home in search of work, his aunt suggested he look into a dispatcher job at the Yakama tribal police department, his brother Shx-myah said. As Yellowash would tell the story: He laughed, and told their aunt, Why would I want to be a pig?

But Yellowash did take that dispatcher job. He stuck with it and "became a pig," Shx-myah said, through a chuckle.

He approached the role with humility, Shx-myah said. He didn't treat people differently based on how they lived. Yellowash told stories of people running scared of the badge he wore. When he caught up to them, they'd say they didn't want to go to jail, Shx-myah said. He'd say, "How do you know I was going to take you to jail?"

There were many stories like this, Shx-myah said, as Yellowash worked his way up the ranks, eventually serving several stints as chief of police. Amid rising gang violence in the 90s, Yellowash looked to the root of the crisis, an obit provided by the Yakama Nation describes. He advocated for programs to reconnect youth with their cultural customs and identity, and would go on to work with the next generations at summer camps, as a guidance counselor and Yakama language instructor in the Wapato School District.

People today still remember their summers spent sleeping in the shadow of Pahto, Mt. Adams, at the youth camp Yellowash directed for several seasons, Shx-myah said. Yellowash would wake the children and gather them for a traditional song and prayer each morning.

He spent his life teaching and mentoring, his son Asa Washines said. "Even he would say that he was still learning too, and he carried that with him in his different capacities throughout his life."

Rigdon came into Yakama natural resources leadership in the mid 2000s, just as climate change was taking center stage. The Yakama Nation was still negotiating a hard-fought water plan for the Yakima River Basin and timber had an uncertain future. Yellowash was there, Rigdon said, to provide guidance through the challenging times, to celebrate the successes.

"It was really beautiful in the manner that he always recognized you by your Ichishkíin, your Yakama name," said Rigdon, also known as Shiakul. "I think that was part of the pride in telling you that you have this role to play."

A gifted storyteller, Yellowash could translate his life experiences and teachings and help non-Native people better understand traditional science and knowledge and feel empowered as allies and advocates.

In his later years, serving as a government liaison in the Yakama Nation fisheries program, he was the team's "secret sauce" and "closer," said Laura Shira, an environmental engineer with the Yakama Nation.

Yellowash would arrive at tough meetings equipped with legal references, examples, and stories that helped build connection, common ground and inspiration. "He treated every toxic cleanup site like a crime scene," Shira wrote in an email, "yet no one left feeling like a criminal - they felt empowered."

He leaned on his grandfather Chief Meninick's words from a century ago to help federal decision-makers understand that cleanup was about more than just removing contamination, said Rose Longoria, who oversees Superfund projects with Yakama Nation Fisheries. His work influenced a more aggressive Portland Harbor Superfund cleanup, Longoria said.

His leadership on the Native American Advisory Board culminated in palpable joy at the opening of the new Burke Museum in 2019, said Julie Stein, a former Burke director. He brought attributes and lessons in life that you won't learn at an institution, said Warren King George, Muckleshoot Indian Tribe historian who served alongside Yellowash on the board.

It was Yellowash's insistence that the annual lamprey celebration be revived, said Kate Brown, president of the Willamette Falls Trust and former Oregon governor. He was dedicated to restoring and rewilding the landscape, recreating public access and strengthening and renewing Indigenous connections to the site, after more than a century of industrial use of Willamette Falls.

Last year, over 900 people attended the annual celebration.

"He was our guiding light," Brown said, "and I suspect he will continue to be."

He is survived by his life partner Carmen Buck, children Andrew Washines, Asa Washines, Winonah Washines, Alyssa Buck, Josephine Buck, Michael Buck, Lawrence Buck and Crystal Buck, as well as grandkids, (though he was known by many as "grandpa"), Asa Washines said.

"My dad would say not to brag," Washines continued. "‘We've got a lot of things to be humble about.'"

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This story was originally published June 17, 2026 at 6:34 AM.