One Year Rooted in Relationship

Reflections on My First Year with Montezuma Land Conservancy and Trees, Water & People

Nearly six months ago, I wrote about the feeling of standing on sacred ground. At the time, I was still settling into my role with Montezuma Land Conservancy (MLC) and Trees, Water & People (TWP), learning the contours of this work and the relationships that sustain it. I wrote about restoration along the Mancos River, the interconnectedness of stewardship and ceremony, and the feeling that we were standing at the edge of something transformative.

A full year into this shared role, that feeling has only deepened.

Over the past year, much of our work has focused on helping broader audiences understand why the Traditional Harvest Project matters: why Indigenous land access matters, why restoration must include cultural revitalization, and why conservation itself is being asked to evolve. At the same time, this work has pushed us to ask larger questions about what comes next — what restoration at landscape scale could look like, how conservation organizations can support Indigenous land access and rematriation, and what it means to build stewardship models designed to last generations.

Sharing the Story

One of the most meaningful developments this year has been the continued growth of Rooted: A Story of Rematriation, a short film created in partnership with MLC and TWP. The film explores the Traditional Harvest Project and restoration work happening along the Mancos River at our County Road 39 project site, highlighting how low-tech, process-based restoration can strengthen both river systems and relationships to land.

Over the past several months, Rooted has screened in Telluride, Fort Collins, Denver, Colorado Springs, and Cortez, with additional screenings planned throughout 2026. What has stood out most has been the response from audiences across the state. These screenings have become spaces for larger conversations around drought resilience, Indigenous stewardship, and the growing visibility of low-tech restoration work across the Southwest.

More than anything, the film has created space to talk about the relational side of conservation — the trust-building, cultural revitalization, and shared stewardship that often exist beneath the surface of restoration projects.

Learning in Community

In March, I attended the Stewards of the Southwest Summit hosted by TWP, where Indigenous foresters, practitioners, NGOs, and tribal and state agencies gathered from across the region. I presented a breakout session titled Rooted Futures: Culturally Informed Riverscape Restoration in Southwest Colorado.

While it was rewarding to share our work, the most meaningful part of the summit was the opportunity to listen and learn from others. During one panel discussion, Dr. Dominique David-Chavez reflected on how much intact knowledge within Indigenous communities today is women’s knowledge — and that when women are absent from projects and decision-making spaces, entire knowledge systems and datasets are absent as well. It was a powerful reminder that restoration work is never only ecological; it is also cultural and relational, shaped by whose voices and knowledge are present.

In April, I also attended Colorado Parks and Wildlife’s annual Partners in the Outdoors Conference and inaugural Tribal Summit alongside staff from MLC and TWP. The summit created space for honest dialogue around conservation, shared stewardship, Indigenous land access, and Tribal self-determination in Colorado.

I was grateful for the opportunity to contribute to two breakout sessions titled From Restoration to Rematriation: Shared Stewardship on the Mancos River and Building Beyond Access: Conservation Tools and Tribal Lands Work in Colorado. In both sessions, we shared how MLC and TWP’s work in Southwest Colorado reflects a growing movement centered around Indigenous land access, return, and shared stewardship efforts at both statewide and national levels.

The experience was further grounded by a keynote from Gemara Gifford, whose words on responsibility, relationship, and Indigenous stewardship were both deeply moving and energizing. Leaders like Dr. David-Chavez and Gemara continue expanding conversations around conservation, reminding many of us that stewardship must be rooted in accountability, reciprocity, and community.

Conservation at a Crossroads 

One of the most transformative developments this year has been the donation of 560 acres in East Weber Canyon outside of Mancos, Colorado to MLC. The landowner was inspired to make the donation through her involvement in the Traditional Harvest Project and a growing belief in the importance of Indigenous land access. Now known as East Canyon, the property creates new opportunities for restoration, cultural revitalization, Indigenous land access, and long-term stewardship partnerships.

More than a single conservation project, East Canyon represents an opportunity to move conversations around rematriation and shared stewardship into practice.

At its core, rematriation is about restoring relationships between Indigenous communities and their ancestral lands, recognizing land not simply as property, but as something deeply connected to culture, identity, and responsibility. East Canyon creates space to explore what that can look like through restoration work, cultural education, traditional harvesting, and stewardship grounded in both Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Western science.

Increasingly, conservation organizations are recognizing that ecological stewardship and social justice cannot be separated. Indigenous communities have long understood that land, culture, and wellbeing are interconnected, and conservation organizations are now being challenged to reflect that understanding more directly in their work.

Land trusts are uniquely positioned within this shift. Because private lands make up a significant portion of lands removed from Indigenous peoples, land trusts have an opportunity to help restore access, support long-term partnerships, and rethink what conservation can look like moving forward.

Honoring Regina Lopez-Whiteskunk 

As I reflect on this past year, it feels impossible to talk about this work without acknowledging Regina Lopez-Whiteskunk and the vision she has brought to it. Regina recently made the decision to step away from her role as Cross-Cultural Programs Director at MLC, and while her presence in that role will be deeply missed, her impact on this work cannot be separated from the foundation it now stands on.

Rematriation is often described as “the return of the mother,” and what a blessing it is that this work — this Traditional Harvest Project — was guided to us by a mother, a grandmother, by a Ute woman who has brought so much life, care, and vision to it.

Regina often describes herself as a little Ute girl tagging along with her parents to ceremonies and powwows, or accompanying her father as he advocated for land and water. That little Ute girl would go on to help fight for the protection of Bears Ears, influence statewide and national level policy, and become a true movement leader in this work — all while keeping her Ute people and beloved community of Towaoc at the center of it.

Over the past year, I have been incredibly fortunate to learn from Regina. In her essay The Water Carrier, published in the anthology Water Bodies: Love Letters to the Most Abundant Substance on Earth, Regina writes about becoming the water carrier for a peyote ceremony at nine years old. She describes learning that carrying water was about far more than responsibility alone — it was about stepping into relationship, stewardship, and cultural obligation.

In many ways, I feel like that nine-year-old child being asked to step forward and carry something meaningful. I can only hope to be a good steward of what Regina has helped build — to continue growing this work with the same intentionality, generosity, and commitment to reciprocity that she has modeled for so many of us. Her influence on this project and the people around her will continue to be felt for a long time to come.

Looking Ahead

Much of this past year focused on sharing our work — speaking at conferences, hosting students and community members at restoration sites, and screening Rooted throughout the region. Increasingly, though, the work is beginning to shift from sharing toward building.

Together, we are asking what the next phase of this work could look like: What does restoration at landscape scale look like across Southwest Colorado? How do we help shape broader conversations around Indigenous land access and stewardship?

Those questions can feel immense at times, but what continues to ground me is the reminder that meaningful change almost always begins through relationship — through planting days along the river, shared learning, honest conversations, and people willing to imagine a different future together.

One year into this role, I feel more certain than ever that this work matters — not because we have all the answers, but because so many people across this region continue choosing to show up for one another and for the land in deeply intentional ways.

I feel immense gratitude for the staff at MLC and TWP, whose commitment and willingness to think differently continues to make this work possible. I am equally grateful to the Ute Mountain Ute community members and partners who continue to guide this work with generosity, honesty, and care.

A Call to Action

As we move into the next phase of this work, we invite you to be part of it. The Traditional Harvest Project and the partnership between MLC and TWP are possible because of a growing community that believes conservation can be more collaborative, just, and relationship centered.

Together, we can continue building a future where ecological restoration, cultural revitalization, and shared stewardship move hand in hand. You can support this work by making a donation HERE.