Labor Day Up-River Cruise

The Labor Day weekend was a great time to poke our nose into the opening of the Columbia River Gorge .  We boarded WhiskyJack on Friday night stowing our supplies and preparing for an early morning departure on Saturday.  I left the dock at 0600 hrs with little light, and no wind, heading up the Multnomah Channel at 5.0 knots toward the Willamette River.  I hadn't gone 1/4 mile before I was in heavy fog which obscured both banks of the channel and, more importantly, all the floating "No Wake" buoys in front of the many houseboat communities.  I dropped the speed to 3.0 knots (about 2 kts SOG), and kept a close eye on the GPS.  In less than 30 minutes the sun had risen, the fog was gone, and we were chugging along at 5.0 kts.

Mt. Hood on the bow from the pilot house

We enter the Willamette River, go down stream for 3 miles, then head up the Columbia River for points unknown.  At about 1000 hrs, we anchor above the I-5 bridge on the Washington side of the river for a bite to eat.  We're underway in an hour, headed upstream at 5.0 kts (3.5 kts SOG) in clear sunny weather, but no wind.  We continue for another 4 hours and find anchorage on the south side of Lady Island.

Sunset from our anchorage at Lady Island

The "hog line" off the mouth of the Sandy River

 We're underway again at 0630 Sunday morning.  There is a lot of river traffic from small boats heading to their favorite fishing spot.  Our anchorage was near the mouth of the Sandy River and the fall run of Chinook Salmon is in full swing.  The fish congregate at the mouths of the rivers they will enter to spawn, thus these spots are favorites for fisherman.  A "hog line" is a line of boats anchored side by side, usually extending from a spot near the shore and extending toward the center of the river.

The paper mill at Camas, Washington

We pass the paper mill at the upper end of Lady Island heading up river at 5.0 kts (3.5 SOG), continuing past Reed Island and enter the Columbia River Gorge.  The Columbia River Gorge is the passage way of the river through the Cascade Mountain Range which rise steeply on each side of the river.





We have wind!  There is a light breeze starting to blow up river.  It's time for the A-sail (asymmetrical spinnaker).  By the time we get the sail rigged we have enough wind to move at hull speed with just the spinnaker.  It is peaceful and quiet moving along under this brightly colored sail.  We sail past Tunnel Point, Rooster Rock, Cape Horn, and Sand Island.  It's a glorious day!

Multnomah Falls

The wind is picking up and we drop the A-sail and hoist the jib and run under it alone.  We now pass Multnomah Falls Oregon's tallest waterfall.    Multnomah Falls has two steps, but only the first one is visible from the river.  It's a 542 foot drop into a small bowl, a gradual 9 foot drop between, then another 69 foot drop at the lower falls.

We continue upriver for another hour and decide to turn around and seek anchorage downriver as there is no protection from the wind, now blowing up stream at15 to 20 kts, or from the 1.5 to 2.0 current.  Anchoring in an exposed area like this is foolish, as the wind blows you one way and the current tugs you the other.



We anchor in the protection of Cape Horn on the Washington side of the river, tucked between two wing dams.  There was no wind and no current.  Karen was able to leisurely swim to shore for relief from the afternoon heat.

The "mouth" of the Columbia River Gorge at dawn

Monday morning we start for home.  We're underway at 0630 headed down stream at 5.0 kts (6.0 kts SOG) under cloudy sky and no wind.

The sun rises as we're passing Crown Point.  The recently renovated Vista House sits atop Crown Point.  It was built in 1916 at the same time as Highway 30, the Columbia River Highway, was built.  Highway 30 was replaced by I-84.

The Portland Fire Boat "David Campbell" sprays water on the Jantzen Beach Thunderbird Hotel

While we were away the unoccupied Jantzen Beach Thunderbird Hotel caught fire and burned.  While we were waiting for the opening of the Interstate Railroad Bridge we were fortunate to be able to watch the crews of the Portland Fire Department still at work mopping up the still smoldering fire.

Ships at anchor in the Columbia River

  As we head for the mouth of the Willamette River, and our slip on the Multnomah Channel, we thread our way through the maze of ships anchored in the Columbia River near Vancouver, Washington.  It was a fun and relaxing holiday weekend.

A Trip Down the River, Part II (aka: the Beauty & the Beast)

A dingy on a boat at the Westport Marina

We left Anunde Island via Wallace Slough and found anchorage for the evening in Westport Slough above the power lines.  The following morning, after a leisurely breakfast, we again head down river, taking Cliffton Channel between the Oregon Shore and Tenasillahe Island, past the relics of the abandoned communities of Bradwood and Cliffton.  We are bound for, what for me, is one of the most peaceful, serine, and beautiful places in this world.  Is is the Lewis & Clarke National Wildlife Refuge which encompasses 35,000 acres of tideland, marshes, and sandbars in the Columbia River estuary about 25 miles upstream from the sea.

Looking west toward Tongue Point

We pass through the Devil's Elbow into Prairie Channel, following it between Karlson and Marsh Islands and anchor in a spot about 1 mile west of Blind Slough.  (See NOAA Chart 18523.)

Here, we are surrounded by water and low lying islands for a radius of over a mile with the western foothills of the Coast Range lying beyond that.  For 360 degrees a vista of nothing but water, trees, hills, and islands.  And no sound of man.  Nothing but the sound of the water lapping at the hull and a symphony from some of thousands of birds that occupy this place.  

Looking east.

While the sound of an individual bird may not be so very loud, when hundreds all sing together, it can be deafening.  I lay in the warm sun on my back on the trunk cabin, my eyes are closed, the warm breeze is blowing over my body and I am listening for the solo runs from the individual members of this avian choir.  What are they singing about?

Marsh Island

 This peace and beauty calms my soul.  This is my special place to unwind; to rejuvenate myself.  We spend the afternoon here but time has a different meaning in this place.  It doesn't pass fast, or slow.  There is so much to drink in, so many acts that pass over Nature's stage, that it seems surreal.  The setting and a breeze that has been picking up over the hours remind us that we need to seek a more sheltered anchorage and prepare our evening meal.  Reluctantly we leave, retiring to protected anchorage in Knappa Slough.  Tomorrow is going to be Karen's big day.  A day to poke around the shops in Astoria.

I awake early, it is just beginning to get light.  I go over the chart and plot a course through this maze of islands to Astoria.  For some still unknown reason, I think it is good to catch a ride on the ebb tide.  When you ride along in a vessel that makes only 5 knots, catching an additional 2 to 3 knots of current makes the trip to Astoria a 2 hour event, while have a 2 knot current "on you nose" makes the trip a 5 hour one.  Wouldn't it be nice to get Karen to Astoria in the early morning rather than in the afternoon?  Well, yes!

With Karen comfortably sleeping in the V-berth, I start the engine, weigh anchor, and head west in Prairie Channel, following the course that I have drawn on the chart and entered into the GPS.  I pass the place where we spent the previous afternoon and all of the memories of the day come flooding back.  I'm drunk with the serenity of it all.  I make the turn south, slowing because it has been years since I have been through here.  The water begins to shallow and I slow even more.  The channel is not where it is supposed to be.  (It might be well to mention here that these small channels are not sounded often meanin the data on the charts is often 20, 30, or 40 years old.)  The water continues to shallow and I am getting nervous.  Reluctantly, I turn around and follow my reciprocal course, deciding that another route to Astoria will need to be found.  I throttle up a bit to 3 knots, the all of a sudden it happened.

Not a happy camper!

I feel the boat rise slightly as it slows to a stop.  From the fore-cabin:  "What's wrong?  What just happened?" OMG!  We're aground!  Whose idea was it to explore on a falling tide?  I know that time is of the essence and I quickly put the anchor into the dingy and paddle astern hoping I can kedge off.  No luck!  In just the few minutes that it takes to row the anchor astern, the boat as already starting to list to starboard.  This is not good.  Thoughts are running through my mind.  I can let the boat go onto it's beam.  I quickly form a plan.  Again I get into the dingy, but this time I row the anchor out as far as I can toward the deepest water which is off the port beam.  I drop the anchor, row back to WhiskyJack, and get a purchase as high on the mast as I can reach from the deck.  I haul against the anchor and begin to pull the boat back upright, stopping when I get it to about 5 degrees heel to starboard.

Birds sitting on the anchor rode

Then we wait.  Any movement of us on the boat from one side to the other causes the boat to heel more or less.  We cannot let the vessel go to port, she must stay with a slight starboard heel because there is no line on the starboard side to prevent a roll to port.  For about 30 minutes it's a balancing act.  Stand slightly to starboard, if the boat starts to move to port, I move to starboard, and visa-versa.  I do not know just how much force it will take for the anchor to drag, and it if does we're done.  Finally, the boat settles slightly into the muddy bottom and becomes stable.

The tide fell, making bare some of the land around the boat.  When it does, the channel becomes apparent.  It is 50 yards to the west of where is was charted.  And, what about the First Mate.  To say she was not happy might be understating the emotions.  And I can understand her point of view.  How is it to be awakened from peaceful sleep into the chaos of a grounding.  How helpless we feel at the mercy of the tide.

Sunset, just east of Astoria near Tongue Point

  "And, what about my day in Astoria?", she asks.  Needless to say when I explain that high tide isn't until 1500 hrs, that we won't float until about 1300 hours, that the trip to Astoria against the flood tide is now estimated to about 5 hours, my mate's response was less than  joyful.  The best that I could offer as a "light at the end of the tunnel" was that we would be arriving about dinner time and that I would be happy to buy her dinner with wine and dessert (and anything else she wanted).  And it didn't hurt that I explained that we had an extra day in our itinerary and that it would be spend in Astoria.

So ends this story of the Beauty of the Estuary and the Beast of Grounding.

A trip down the river like no other

Having WhiskyJack at our doorstep (almost) was wonderful.  After a winter of the northwest's dreary and rainy weather, we were ready for an extended trip down river.  So in the summer of 2005 we headed down river for a week.  With an outgoing tide we ran from Scappoose to Beaver Slough in just over 8 hours.

WhiskyJack at the Point Adams Receiving Station

We had scheduled to meet up with Bill and Darlene, a couple that we met a few months earlier in St. Helens, Oregon, to look at the restoration they had done on on of the old fish Receiving Stations.  In this area, it is (or at least was) illegal for a fisherman to off-load fish from his boat at a place other than a cannery.  In other words, he could not throw the fish into his truck and drive them to the cannery he had to take them there in his boat.  Many of the fisherman fished areas that were many miles from a cannery, and thus a good part of the time that they had to spend on the water was the time necessary to run from the fishing grounds to the cannery and back.  The canneries were sympathetic to this and would have "receiving stations" strategically placed up and down the river.  The cannery company then trucked the fish to Astoria (in this case) for processing.

The boat repair shed

Bill and Darlene had purchased an old Point Adams Receiving Station on Anunde Island in the Beaver Slough region where the Clatskanie River enters the Columbia River.  Most of this receiving station had been built by a co-op of Finnish fisherman.  They had a large barn-like shed with hoist where they could repair their boats.  They had a net drying shed at the water's edge where they could bring up the nets out of their boats for drying and repair.  Remember that the nets were not made of synthetic material at that time and drying was essential to keep them from rotting.

The "Longhouse" on the left and net drying shed on the right

But most impressive (to me) was a building the fisherman built to house themselves while they were fishing.  The fisherman in the co-op did not all fish at the same time.  The co-op had a portion of the river that they exclusively maintained and fished.  Not all of the fisherman could fish this area at once, so they had a method of allotting times for each of the members.  So while one member was fishing another would be sleeping, eating, repairing nets, etc.  The co-op build a long building divided into identical rooms.  Each room had a bed, a wood stove, and a table.  There were 9 or 10 of these rooms in this "long house."  In front of this building was the net drying shed with the area in front of each room being the drying space for the member that occupied that room.  Bill and Darlene used this building as their house with one room for a kitchen, one for a living room, one for the bedroom, one for a guest bedroom, one for storage, etc.  And they used the net drying shed as their " front porch."

The "front porch" with net drying racks in the background

From their "front porch", Bill and Darlene had a commanding view of Beaver Slough, Wallace Island, and the Eagle Cliff area on the Washington side of the river.  Bill would sit here and watch the river traffic and the wild life.  If you were a friend, he could see you coming while you were miles away and would come out and greet you in his skiff.  "Follow me in," he would say.

The view (north) from the "porch" with another net shed in the background

We spent a wonderful afternoon with Bill and Darlene.  The buildings had been left without maintenance for some time and were in a state of disrepair.  And according to Bill, the co-op members only did the repairs necessary to get by another season with no attention to long range planning.  Some of the structures were beyond saving and had to be demolished, but what remained had the look and feel of something out of another century.

A great book that provides a glimpse of the life on the river in the early 1900's is "Reach of Tide, Ring of History" by the late Sam McKinney.  McKinney spent time in his youth in one of the now abandoned villages--Chinookville, Frankfort, Knappton, and Cliffton.  He built a small, wooden boat and beginning at the mouth of the Columbia, travels up river as far as the tidal influence (Bonneville) telling the story of his youth and his memories of the past.

This was just the first part of a week's vacation filled with surprises.  Next:  The "Beauty and the Beast."  (One of the most beautiful places on earth and a dastardly error.)