Words by Lauren Archibald
Images by Jeremy Koreski, Graeme Owsianski & AndrewMcCurdy
We caught up with Lauren Archibald, Marketing Manager at Redd Fish Restoration Society, to talk about fieldwork, gear, and the deeper meaning of restoration. Based on the west coast of Vancouver Island, the Redd Fish team works in close collaboration with nuučaanuł Nations to restore salmon habitat and support ecosystem recovery—work that’s equal parts muddy boots, long-term restoration, and deep relationships.
Looking Ahead
2025 marks Redd Fish’s 30th anniversary—what’s on the horizon for the organization, and what are you personally excited about?
As a freediver, I love exploring the kelp forests on our coasts. Take a deep breath, dive down, and look back up. The sunlight filters through the surface, dancing patterns across the thick strands of kelp as they sway gracefully with the rhythm of the ocean. Their towering stalks rise like trees in a mature forest. Everything feels calm here even when waves are crashing above.
Since I joined the team at Redd Fish a year and a half ago, I’ve learned so much from my colleagues. I have new perspectives on kelp when I go freediving, knowing its importance and how it provides critical complex habitat for juvenile salmon to seek refuge and forage for food before they brave the open water. This is what our work is all about–inspiring an ethic of stewardship.
Climate change is making it harder for kelp to thrive—warming oceans, shifting currents, and fewer nutrients are all taking a toll. That’s why I’m especially excited that my colleague, Emily, and our partners are expanding our innovative kelp restoration project with tukʷaaʔatḥ (Toquaht) Nation Government. The team is prepping for another season of kelp restoration in Barkley Sound and expanding the work into ƛaʔuukʷiʔatḥ (Tla-o-qui-aht) First Nation territory near Tofino this year too.
How do you measure success in your work?
Some of it is measurable: putting large wood back into rivers (mimicking what old-growth trees would have done before they were clear cut to the water’s edge), creating more pools where salmon can rest, or tracking salmon populations—whether it's counting juveniles heading out to sea in the spring using a Rotary Screw Trap, or pulling on a drysuit and snorkel in October to tally the adults returning to spawn.
Oftentimes, measuring success is more complex and part of a larger story. Let’s look at trees planted for an example here – something widely used in sustainability efforts and a typical “measure of success”. We plant a lot of trees—30,114 last year in fact. But what can be harder to explain is that we also cut down and trim trees as part of restoration efforts.
In second-growth forests that regenerated naturally after logging, the trees often grow back very densely, especially western hemlock. On these monoculture hillsides, the trees are packed tightly together, all competing for light and nutrients. That kind of overcrowded forest might look green from the outside, but inside it’s dark and quiet—there’s no understory, no light, and no space for other species to thrive.
So, part of our work is thinning those stands to let light reach the forest floor. That light is what kickstarts biodiversity—encouraging shrubs, ground cover, and eventually, a healthy mix of tree species. We come in and plant a diverse group of trees to accelerate that process. We’re not managing for what looks good today—we’re thinking decades and generations out.
And true restoration must also extend beyond the ecological to include cultural practices, traditions, and relationships that sustain both people and place.
Success also comes from hiring Indigenous youth from the Nation whose territory we’re working in—giving them meaningful, hands-on experience that helps reconnect them to their lands and waters. It’s about creating relationships and opportunities for stewardship that will carry on for generations.
The Challenges We Face
What are some of the biggest challenges in salmon habitat restoration?
Funding is a big one—especially for long-term work. Restoration doesn’t stop once a log jam is built. Monitoring, stewardship, and maintenance are ongoing needs in all the watersheds we work in. But most funding comes in short cycles, so we're always trying to stitch together multi-year visions with year-to-year budgets.
Then there’s climate change. Rivers are flashier—higher highs, lower lows. That throws off the timing of fish migration and increases the risk of redd scour (where salmon nests are washed away during storms). We adapt by designing for variability—mimicking natural processes instead of trying to control them.
The Ecosystem in Action
Can you share a project that’s had a big impact?
Tranquil Creek, hands down. It's been our biggest project yet—nine years of restoration in hiłsyaqƛis within the haḥuułii (territory) of ƛaʔuukʷiʔatḥ (Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation). We’ve stabilized the hillslopes around the watershed, installed dozens of log jams, and done extensive riparian planting, restoring the floodplain connection. And we’re seeing salmon return to places that had been too degraded to support them previously. It was incredible to see cuw̓it (coho) using the new pools that formed from the engineered log jams the team built last year within a matter of days. Pretty cool.
While there’s sometimes immediate wins from our restoration work, the magic really comes from giving the river what it needs to evolve and create its own new habitat over time. Process based restoration. Check out this post on Instagram to see a before / after video from Tranquil.
You mentioned partnerships with Indigenous Nations. Can you speak to that?
Everything we do is rooted in long-standing relationships with the nuučaanuł Nations in whose territories we work. Our board of directors has a majority of representatives from the five nuučaanuł Nations in this area —ʕaaḥuusʔatḥ (Ahousaht), hiškʷiiʔatḥ (Hesquiaht), tukʷaaʔatḥ (Toquaht Nation Government), ƛaʔuukʷiʔatḥ (Tla-o-qui-aht), and yuułuʔiłʔatḥ (Ucluelet Nation Government)—and many of our staff are Indigenous.
These partnerships inform our direction and keep us grounded in place. The Nations bring deep knowledge and leadership to the work, and together we’re creating meaningful opportunities for training, employment, and capacity-building.
Restoration isn’t just about fish—it’s also about cultural renewal, youth employment, and reconnecting people to land. We’re always learning, always listening. It’s lifelong work, and we’re committed to showing up with care, reciprocity, and accountability. Reconcili-action, as we say.
Gear in the Field
Your team works in tough conditions. What’s essential gear-wise?
Fieldwork often means hiking into remote sites with caulks (boots with metal spikes so you don’t eat sh*t on slippery terrain), waders (to walk through rivers without soaking your pants), safety gear, and an inReach for when we’re out of service. You’ll also need layers for every kind of West Coast weather—often all in one day—and, of course, a whole lot of snacks.
Whenever possible, we aim to use human power to build habitat, and for this, we employ old-school hand logging techniques and tools like the humble Tirfor Winch, aka Grip Hoist, aka Hand Winch, aka Cable Puller. Check out this post for a fun tool deep dive.
How does RUX fit in?
The waterproof RUX bags have been great for hauling personal field gear—especially waders, which can snag on brush if you’re not careful. The bags are tough, lightweight, and easy to rinse after a muddy day.
The larger, classic totes have been great for hauling kelp restoration gear on the boat, and we’ve also been known to toss in a bunch of snacks and beverages for a team BBQ and surf at Long Beach in the summer.
Final Thoughts
Anything else you want to share?
Before joining Redd Fish, I worked with B Corps and other values-driven organizations—but this team is different. Everyone brings so much heart and knowledge to what they do.
If you ever find yourself in Ucluelet, come say hi and grab a coffee from our shop, or sign up to volunteer at an event. Perhaps when you come, our shop will have transitioned into a long-term dream of ours: the Stewardship Centre that will serve as a hub for education, training, and community connection.
If you’re feeling inspired to support the work, that would mean a lot too. About 90% of our funding comes from grants, so every bit of support from everyday folks like you helps keep the momentum going, especially on underfunded projects like a super exciting new restoration carbon sequestration project...
Perhaps we should catch up again soon.
