Quebec Innu seek control of fishing club frequented by wealthy Americans
'We never surrendered our rights. We don't have any treaty,' community representative says
The riverbed in front of the Moisie Salmon Club is the best place to catch salmon on the Moisie River, a remote waterway east of Sept-Îles, Que.
Here the fish rest at the bottom of tranquil pools as they prepare to confront the rapids and small waterfalls farther upstream. A fisherman can catch a salmon in less than 15 minutes.
But only the wealthy American members of the private club are allowed to fish in this choice spot of the river.
For Jean-Claude Therrien-Pinette, that privilege was stolen from the Innu First Nation of Uashat mak Mani-Utenam, who have two communities around Sept-Îles.
"We never surrendered our rights. We don't have any treaty," said Therrien-Pinette, director of the community's land rights protection office.
The Innu are restricted to one of the worst fishing spots in the river, he said. While some of them work as guides for the club's wealthy visitors, they are not themselves allowed to fish within its property.
Escalating tensions
After living with this arrangement for 100 years, the First Nations community says a change is long overdue. They want to gain possession of the club and its properties and run the operation themselves.
"We want to have access to the river. We want to manage it. We want to be able to share our culture and welcome the big shots from America," Therrien-Pinette said.
The conflict is now bubbling over.
A week ago, members of the Innu community paddled about 20 canoes into the club's exclusive waters and caught a forbidden 10-kilogram salmon. They planted a flag on an island across from the club's lodge, and ate a meal while provincial police officers and a hovering helicopter looked on.
Since then, boats of First Nation protesters have been going up and down the river every day, disrupting the club's fishing expeditions.
With the situation escalating at the onset of peak salmon-fishing season, the provincial government is under pressure to broker a peaceful solution.
Quebec Native Affairs Minister Geoffrey Kelley has scheduled a meeting with the Innu band council for this Thursday.
Hunting for the origins of century-old deal
Details are murky about how six kilometres of riverside, as well as the river itself, came to belong to a private American owner more than 100 years ago.
After asking for years to see the documentation themselves, the Innu community hired its own researchers.
Therrien-Pinette said they now have records showing the government of Quebec, treating the disputed area as Crown land, sold it in 1907 to the American businessman and professional baseball pioneer Ivers Adams for $20,000.
But the club's general manager, Yvan Létourneau, told CBC News that Adams bought the land in parcels from a variety of private owners over a number of years, and that the club still has the original paperwork.
Kelley, for his part, has asked Quebec's Ministry of Justice to pull whatever information it has on how the property changed hands. He wants more details and legal analysis before the province gets involved in the dispute.
"What the agreements were 100 years ago, that's very hard to establish," Kelley told CBC Radio's Quebec AM last week.
"Our understanding is that the land was sold to this private club and remains their property. If we were to make some sort of change, we would have to respect those property rights."
Compensation won't suffice for Innu
The Innu community wants the province to buy the Moisie Salmon Club property and return it to them.
They also want a temporary aquatic reserve, which protects 3,000 square kilometres of land near the river, to become permanent.
But if a land claim is a central part of the issue, discussions would also have to include the federal government since that is their responsibility, Kelley said.
Regardless, Therrien-Pinette categorically rejected one option that's been used to resolve land disputes in the past.
"We won't accept any money and we won't accept any compensation," he said. "We don't want to sell the river."
With files from Peter Tardif, Louis Garneau and Katy Larouche