When I was 8 years old, a bilingual afterschool program took me on a trip that left memories I still carry. A boat drove us into the deep canyons of Iisaxpúatahcheewilichke, Bighorn Lake. As we cruised by cliffs incised by Iisaxpúatahcheeaashe, the Bighorn River, we witnessed the power that it held: cliff sides looked as if a knife made a clean cut through a cake, except it was through sedimentary, metamorphic and igneous layers of the Earth. I will hold this day with me forever because me, my twin sister and other Apsáalooke/Crow youth saw where Uuwaatisaash was pushed off the cliffs, and where Iisaxpúatahchee Sahpua had saved him.
