LEWIS AND CLARK ON THE LOWER COLUMBIA RIVER

The Lewis and Clark expedition floated what is now the Portland to Astoria portion of the Columbia River in early November of 1805 on their way to the Pacific Ocean. OK, so they did it 205 years before Dry Bag Dave and Paddlin' Paul did it - big deal! They had a lot of help; we were just two older guys.

The river has changed in many significant ways since 1805 as a result of European settlement and development. There are, however, moments on the river that take me back in time. In very specific locations, usually during winter or early spring when there are very few people recreating on the river, a landscape view and a lack of modern human noises ushers me into history. One of these favorite locations for me is just upstream of Cathlamet, along the Washington shore, where spring runoff creates a seasonal waterfall off a high basalt cliff. If I position my kayak so the waterfall is behind me, my view across the river to the Oregon side has nothing modern in it; no buildings, highway, towers or other signs of civilization. The waterfall sound covers any faint modern background noise. I am transported back in time, seeing the landforms that the Lewis and Clark party saw; a scene that was home for the native people of the river.

Lewis & Clark map, 1805. The mouth of the Willamette
River is at the bottom right of the map, Wapato
Island on the map is the present day Sauvie Island.
Clusters of small triangles indicate villiages of native
people. Downstream is towards the top of the map. 

The Lewis and Clark party left their camp on what is now Government Island on the morning of November 4, 1805 and paddled downstream along the shore of "Wappato Island," now known as Sauvie Island (note that I'll use modern names for places on the river, unless I specifically refer to a name used by Lewis and Clark). They noted 8 villages with about 2,500 residents on the island, and the Indians introduced the travelers to the root of the wapato plant, something Lewis and Clark noted were like potatoes. The expedition also traded with Indians for dogs, which they used for fresh meat. They camped that night on the Washington shore at RM95, across from Wappato Island, near a small bottomland lake now called Post Office Lake in the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge. It was not a restful night, as Clark observed in his journal (first draft): "I could not Sleep for the noise kept by the Swans, Geese, white & black brant, Ducks &c. on a opposit base, & Sand hill Crane, they were emensely numerous and their noise horrid."

On November 5 they passed the Lewis River, dined on Deer Island ("crouded with Indians"), and camped downstream from the mouth of the Kalama River near Prescott Beach, on the Oregon side, at about RM71. The expedition camped on a narrow stone beach just downstream of Cape Horn, at RM48 for the night of November 6. The night of November 7 was spent on the Washington side in sight of Pillar Rock, at about RM 27. The men thought they had reached the ocean, and wrote this in their journals. What they really were seeing was the very wide lower estuary and Grays Bay of the Columbia River.

From November 8 until November 25, the expedition was on the Washington side of the lower river, basically trapped on that side by weather and rough water in the estuary. They had some miserable and dangerous times during that period, but worked their way to the ocean. The expedition set up camp at Station Camp, about RM10, just downstream of where the Astoria-Megler Bridge is located today. They used Station Camp for 10 nights. Captain Lewis and 4 men made their way from Station Camp to the Pacific Ocean, and upon their return Captain Clark and 11 men took their turn to the ocean, where they traveled north a short way up the coast.

On the evening of November 24, at Station Camp, the expedition voted on whether to stay on the north (Washington) side or south side for the winter. The south, or Oregon side won, and the expedition went back upriver to their Pillar Rock campsite, where they could safely cross the river to the south side. Once across the river, they camped along the south channel of Cathlamet Bay, between RM19 and 20 for the night of November 26.

Lewis & Clark map, 1805. Tongue Point, lower Columbia River.
Present day Astoria is to the left of Tongue Point; the mouth of
the Columbia River at the Pacific Ocean is to the far left. 

From November 27 until December 6 the expedition camped on the leeward (upstream) side of Tongue Point, RM18. The water around the tip of the point was very rough, as noted in the men's journals. During that period, Captain Lewis and 5 men traveled downstream looking for a winter camp, and the expedition finally moved to their winter quarters at Fort Clatsop on December 7, 1805. They stayed the winter at Fort Clatsop and began the journey back home in March, 1806. The expedition camped in 7 different locations on their way back upriver between Astoria and Portland.

Dry Bag and I made similar distances downriver per day as the Lewis and Clark expedition. We spent our third night at Vista Park, near Skamokawa, Washington, about RM33, approximately 6 miles upstream from the Lewis and Clark camp near Pillar Rock. We knew that the estuary widened below that area, and that trying to cross to the Oregon side further downstream would be difficult and possibly dangerous because of wind and waves. Lewis and Clark had to discover this themselves. So on our fourth morning, Bag and I crossed the river just downstream of Vista Park and entered the wide, island-filled southern part of the Columbia River Estuary.

We fought the falling tide, strong currents and wind for a few hours, finally crossing Cathlamet Bay to the east, or lee side of Tongue Point. I'll write about this grueling crossing in my next post, but we finally made land on Tongue Point and wolfed down our lunch, not far from the site where Lewis and Clark camped for ten nights.

Many things have changed along the lower Columbia River since Lewis and Clark and their companions made their journey. The landscape is different now, and the river itself has been altered by dredging and filling. Even the natural rhythms of the river are different because of upstream dams. But some things have not changed. The 2 daily tidal changes, the wind patterns, the landforms and geology, many of the fish and wildlife are the same as those experienced by the members of the Lewis and Clark expedition. Dry Bag and I know this from experience, and in that way we and the expedition members are brothers.

In fact, Dry Bag Dave is a relative, on his mother's side, of one of the members of the Lewis and Clark expedition, Private Hugh Hall. It is known that Hall had a tendency to drink to excess, and received lashings at least twice for infractions of the rules. Little is known of him after the expedition; however, he might be implicated in one of the great academic mysteries of the expedition. There is some evidence that Hugh Hall kept a journal during the expedition, and this might be the "missing 7th journal" that scholars have theorized about. A story has it that an old journal written by Hugh Hall was passed down in the family, eventually being passed on to Hall's great grandson, John Hall, by John's great aunt. When John Hall was stricken with polio, his mother got possession of the book. and it was destroyed when her home burned to the ground in the great 1961 Bel-Aire fire in Los Angeles.

Fortunately, Dry Bag never drank to excess on our journey, and there was no need for me to give him lashes!

---

Sources:
The Lewis and Clark Journals:  http://lewisandclarkjournals.unl.edu/index.html
Lewis and Clark expedition campsites: http://columbiariverimages.com/Regions/campsites.html
Nautical Chart image:  http://www.charts.noaa.gov/OnLineViewer/PacificCoastViewerTable.shtml

Derelicts on the Columbia: Day 2 - June 14, 2010

Day 2. June 14, 2010. Launched from Sand Island at 0730 AM.

The interior of the Superdome in New Orleans has a volume of 125 million cubic feet. The amount of water flowing in the Columbia River during the four days of our great adventure was 500 thousand cubic feet per second, plus or minus. At this flow, called discharge by hydrologists, the Columbia River would fill the Superdome with water in 4.2 minutes.

Dry Bag and I selected the dates for our paddling trip to coincide with high flows in the river, as well as high tides. The lower Columbia River, from Bonneville Dam to the Pacific Ocean, a distance of about 145 miles, has two tidal cycles per day. Our plan was to be on the water every morning at high tide so we could ride the outgoing tide downstream. The river was very high in June of 2010.

To the casual observer on shore, a large river looks fairly placid, especially if the wind is calm and the water surface smooth. Sitting in a kayak, however, is a different perspective altogether. Paddling a river that is at flood stage, meaning that it is overtopping it's banks in places, combined with sets of very high and low tides, is akin to riding on the back of a wild beast. Add a strong wind blowing in your face, with associated waves up to three feet tall, and there are some thrilling moments!

Discharge and Stage at USGS gage, Beaver Depot, Oregon (RM 53.8).
Stage is water surface elevation, and fluctuates twice daily with ocean tides.

We saddled up and pushed our kayaks away from Sand Island at 7:30 in the morning. High tide had been at about 4 AM and was already 2 feet lower. River discharge, the volume of water moving past a fixed point per unit of time, is lowest at high tide and increases as the tide goes out (see the graph). Discharge at high tide  on the  morning of June 14 was about 375,000 cubic feet per second (cfs), and had increased to about 500,000 cfs by the time we launched from Sand Island. Discharge increased from then to about 520,000 cfs; needless to say, we made good time that morning! By about 1030 AM, when we stopped for a break on a beach near Coffin Rock, we had raced downstream about 12 miles, past Goat Island and Sandy Island, in 3 hours. We passed under the Lewis and Clark Bridge between Longview, Washington and Rainier, Oregon at noon, and put in on Lord Island for a lunch break just before 1 PM.

Sand Island downstream to Lord Island

The blue diamond is my GPS point for our lunch spot on Lord Island.

lunching on Lord Island

Gull Island is at river mile 55, and we made our final landfall of the day there just before 5:00PM. We traveled 30 miles down river from our camp on Sand Island, and although it had been a long day of more than 9 hours on the river, we were back on schedule to make Astoria in 4 days.

Gull Island, unlabeled, is near the blue dot in the upper right corner of the image, next to Crims Island.

We camped on Gull Island in a moss-covered meadow above the river. Dry Bag prepared a lovely meal, which we ate with much gusto. We were alone on the island, and the quiet was remarkable, other than the chirping chorus frogs in the nearby woods. I took a short walk on the beach, reveling in the solitude as day turned to dusk. There is very little river traffic this time of year; ocean-going vessels go by in both directions (paddlers need to know where the shipping lane is in the river), and there are a few fisher-persons on the river.

Dry Bag preparing his famous camp meal.

Mmmm...warm goodness, and great with a spork!

Dry Bag Dave at Gull Island

Paddlin' Paul at Gull Island

Gull Island beach solitude

Gull Island moss carpet

Dry Bag crawled into his tent earlier than I did, and I walked away from camp to the edge of the woods and stood for awhile listening to the frogs. I crawled into my tent as the sky was darkening, and slept very deeply after our long day of paddling.

Woods and meadow on Gull Island

Some highlights from Day 2.

Another derelict vessel. In the morning of Day 2 we passed an old derelict vessel that looked like a paddle-wheeler. This was near Goble, Oregon. Here's a video clip.

Coffin Rock (RM 73).  In 1792 Lt. Broughton, sailing with the Captain George Vancouver Expedition, wrote in his log: several canoes covered the top of this islet, in which dead bodies were deposited." He was referring to what is now known as Coffin Rock. Some Northwest coast and Columbia River tribes placed their dead in canoes in special places, such as what we now call Coffin Rock and nearby Coffin Mountain. An account of this practice is here.

Lewis and Clark Bridge between Longview, Washington and Rainier, Oregon (RM 66). This bridge was designed by Joseph Strauss, who also designed the Golden Gate Bridge, and opened to traffic in 1930. At the time of it's opening, it was the longest cantilever bridge at 8,288 ft, and the highest, at 210 ft vertical clearance. When Bag and I paddled under the bridge, we went past one of the two bridge piers that was wrapped because of work being done (I assume it was being sand blasted and painted). At the end of the following video clip you can get a sense of the river velocity by looking at the large steel buoy we passed.

Mayger Fish Station, Oregon (RM 57.5). The fish station was built and opened in around 1910. It had a net shed where fishermen built, repaired and stored their nets, and a station where fish were purchased, packed in ice and shipped to canneries. The river was calm and there was a break in the weather when we stopped there to look and take photos, being careful not to get under this derelict structure. The net shed section, about 300 ft long, collapsed into the river in August, 2012.

---

Derelicts on the Columbia: Day 1 - June 13, 2010

June 13, 2010; 0805 AM. Columbia Slough ramp at Lombard Avenue.

Dry Bag Dave (left) and Paddlin' Paul at the Columbia Slough ramp,
wondering if they really remembered everything.

We pushed off from the muddy base of the small ramp into the murky water of Columbia Slough. Dry Bag and I had planned the trip to take advantage of very large tides in the river and the spring freshet. We hoped to start each day in the early morning on either the high slack or the beginning of the tidal ebb in order to opportunistically hitchhike downstream on the river's flow. Our wives, being the very patient women they are, had gone along with our planning and driven us, our kayaks, and all our gear and supplies to the very out-of-the-way boat ramp not far upstream from the mouth of the WIllamette River in Portland. With hugs, kisses, and a few "good lucks" thrown in, they wished us bon voyage and, being careful not to step into the mud, waved us off on our great adventure.

I had turned 66 years old in April that year, and Dryden D. is six years my junior. We're both in good shape, relatively, and feel very much at home in our kayaks. I don't think either of us had any trepidation about this trip, only a sense of adventure and of doing something we'd both wanted to do for some time. And so we set off down the slough, past a number of strange-looking log structures (fish habitat created by the City), and made a right turn into the Willamette River where we were met by a stiff headwind. We looked at each other and smiled that knowing smile; the Columbia River wind was already blowing.

We've paddled many sections of the lower Columbia River, the section below Bonneville Dam at river mile (RM) 146. (One convention used by people on the river is to reference distance upstream from the river's mouth as river mile. The mouth of the Willamette River, where it flows into the Columbia River, is at RM 101; the city of Astoria, Oregon is at RM 13.) The words "wind" and "Columbia River" are never far apart on a page. The wind blows in from the ocean, or upstream, and often starts around mid-morning and builds quickly. So it was a bit of a surprise that we were already paddling into a stiff wind at about 830 in the morning, but it felt good, and the river carried us.

Sauvie Island in the Columbia River

We paddled on the Oregon side of the river, along the shore of Sauvie Island, one of the largest river islands in the United States (larger than Manhattan!). We spent our first morning racing along the Oregon side of the island, about 15 miles from the mouth of the Willamette to the downstream end. The river was high, as we had planned, from the spring freshet, and the tide was racing downhill towards the ocean. It was an exhilarating and fun ride!

Since I was a boy playing along, and sometimes in, the Chicago River, one of my greatest joys has been exploring and studying nature. Kayaking a river that is seasonally high, and therefore occupying it's floodplain, offers a large menu of such opportunities.

At one point, I saw something in the flooded woodland that caught my attention, and I went to investigate. I immediately called out to Dry Bag to come over. There, nestled into the trees in an area that is usually out of water, was what looked like a UFO!

Upon closer examination, we determined that the UFO was really a derelict vessel, the SS Kbar, that must have been carried into the woods during a flood event and remains there to this day. Sometime after our trip I searched the internet and found photos and discussions about the Kbar by people who had hiked through the woods to view it. All I can say is - what the...?

We moved on from the SS Kbar, and at a point perhaps half-way along the island shore, I took advantage of an opportunity to paddle through the flooded floodplain woodland that had a foot or so of water over it. Dry Bag decided to stay in the channel just outside the trees, and we caught glimpses of each other as we kept pace. I poked around, mindful not to get too far behind Dry Bag, looking at the vegetation, listening for birds, watching for signs of fish. After some distance, I headed back to the channel through the trees. Ahead of me, anchored just offshore, was a group of very nice small yachts; I wondered what the occasion was. As I cleared the trees, the shore opened up to a beach area, and I was between the anchored boats and the shore. There, on the beach, was a fairly large group of people age 60+ - all stark naked! They were playing games, sitting in beach chairs, drinking, talking, and waving at me! OK...a bit awkward, but I smiled, nodded my head in their direction, and paddled on. (Sorry, no pix.)

The downstream end of Sauvie Island is known as Warrior Point. A short distance upstream from the point is Warrior Rock, on which sits the Warrior Rock lighthouse, a rather unimpressive structure that has stood since the 1930's. (Note 1) I made a mental note of the time as we paddled past the lighthouse, about 1 o'clock in the afternoon. We had made our way along the length of Sauvie Island, about 15 miles from the Willamette River mouth to Warrior Point, in 5 hours. Our target for the first day was Goat Island at river mile 80, within reach if we kept up our pace of about 3 miles per hour. But the Columbia River has it's own ideas, a truism learned only by experience.

As we passed Warrior Rock, the river channel changed direction by about 30 degrees to the west, and we were suddenly straining at our paddles into a strong westerly wind and large swells. This is a typical pattern on the lower Columbia, and combined with a very strong ebbing tide the river was suddenly a living thing upon whose bucking back we were riding. Ahead of us on the left, the Oregon shore, lay the town of St. Helens.

We crossed the open water between Warrior Point and St. Helens, a distance of about 2 miles, in a state of intense concentration. The current was so strong that we could have easily been swept past the town. The strong head wind and big swells challenged our skills on what would be a leisurely paddle on many other days. We were using every ounce of strength and every nuance of paddling skill to make the crossing.

There is a large marina in St. Helens, and we planned to hold up at one of the outer docks to rest a bit and decide how to proceed. The marina raced towards us (a paddler's perspective about moving and stationary objects is different from that of land lubbers). Dry Bag was ahead of me, and he grabbed hold of a dock cleat. I was on a course to get to the dock just downstream of Dry Bag, and I shouted something to him as I raced by, wondering what the funny look on his face was about. I immediately understood his expression when I turned my gaze to the front and saw the next dock, one that sticks out perpendicular to the flow, racing towards me at a very high speed (there's that paddlers perspective again). My gaze lingered on the roiling interface of water and lumber where the mighty river crashed into and slid under the dock. Uh-oh.

An experienced paddler has synapses that are lacking in the nervous systems of non-paddlers. My upper body immediately switched gear into a back-paddle, with subtle movements that pointed the stern of the kayak away from shore, executing what we call a back-ferry that moved the boat sideways towards the middle of the channel. As I raced past the end of the dock, I took a quick glance over my shoulder and saw that Dry Bag had also headed out into the channel. We were back into the belly of the beast, and could tell that the wind was gathering more strength and the swells were getting higher. We had a short shouted discussion about our situation, and agreed that Goat Island was now not within easy reach.

Sand Island sits in the river across from St. Helens, and solid ground under our butts felt awfully good once we had pulled our boats up the shore and sat for a brief rest. The island has picnic and camping facilities, including a small building with bathrooms. It is a popular spot during summer, but this was early June, and the weather was still chilly and rainy, so we had the island almost to ourselves. We scouted out a good camp spot, hauled the boats and gear up from the river, set up our tents and camp kitchen, and settled in for the evening. We both felt good, but we both knew that making only 15 miles on the first day was a major problem.

St. Helens, Oregon on the left; Sand Island on the right. Our route is shown in blue (GPS track).
Map Data 2013 (c) Google

It was mid-afternoon when we finished setting up our camp, and the weather was very pleasant - cool and partly-cloudy. We explored the island, on foot of course. Most of the island is wooded with typical bottomland trees, mostly black cottonwood, and shrubs. Like most Columbia River islands, Sand Island is an elongated oval with the long axis parallel with the river channel. A long sand beach occupies the northern side, perfect for walking, looking at the river, and finding interesting bits of stranded debris. The south side of the island faces the town of St. Helens, and this, too, was a pleasant view in the changing light of the horizon rising to meet the sun.

The chilling air and time of day made us realize that we were really hungry; we had stopped once from about 11:00 to 11:30 in the morning for a pee break and a snack. And so I started to assemble the evening meal, a simple menu of corned beef and potato pancakes. These were left-overs from a party a few days previous, and once the food was heated on the little camp stoves, it was truly a fine hot meal.

We crawled into our tents at some point after dinner, and both slept like old, worn drift logs stranded on a high beach.

---
Notes:
(1) How Warrior Rock got it's name: On October 28, 1792, an advance party from Captain George Vancouver's Columbia River expedition set foot on a rocky point at the north end of Sauvie Island. Shortly thereafter, Lieutenant William Broughton and his men were surrounded by twenty-three canoes carrying war-clad Chinooks. Broughton prudently decided to make peace rather than fight and called the place "Warrior Rock."   The original lighthouse and bell structure was built in 1889. The entire history is told here. 

Derelicts on the Columbia: Introduction

My right shoulder is mostly feeling ok, and I "graduated" from physical therapy a couple of weeks ago. Every medical person who has reviewed the file on my rotator cuff surgery has exclaimed, with raised eyebrows, something like "wow, they did a lot of work in there!" I've suffered quietly with bad shoulders for a number of years, but it was the Derelicts on the Columbia River trip of 2010 that did me in.

Dry Bag Dave, or sometimes Dryden. D. "Drybag" Dave, is my paddling buddy. Paddlin' Paul is my on-water moniker for our adventures. We had talked for many years about paddling the Columbia River from Portland downriver to Astoria, near the river's mouth, a distance of about 90 miles. One day in early 2010 Dry Bag mentioned that he was thinking seriously about paddling from Portland to Astoria that spring. I informed Dry Bag that he surely wasn't going to do such a trip alone, and that, after all, we had been talking about it for years. And so we began to plan together.

the lower Columbia River, Portland to Astoria, Oregon
Map Data 2013 (c) Google

Overview of Columbia River from Portlsnd, Oregon to the Pacific Ocean. The flag "COLUMBIASL" is the starting location for the trip (Columbia Slough ramp) near the mouth of the Willamette River. Other flags are waypoints entered into my GPS along the way (see other posts). In this image, north is to the right, west is at the top. The Columbia River flows north/northwest from Portland until it turns westward (past SANDY ISLA in the image).
screenshot of Google Earth image
(c) 2013 Google
Image (c) 2013 TerraMetrics