Generations ago, Kóogháa Nélíní was a gathering place. The Tagish Kwan of what’s now the southern Yukon would travel here from up and down the river, paddling canoes or poling rafts to where the current narrowed through high basalt cliffs and turned frothy as it cascaded over the rocky floor.
Under bright summer skies, the Tagish Kwan would spear salmon close to shore in the shallow sections of the rapids and hang their catch to dry on the banks. The smell of campfire smoke hung in the air as moose and bears wandered through the forest lining the cliffs.