The Columbia Part III

     In my last post I was lamenting the decline of salmon in the Columbia River.  The dams on the river prevent the salmon from returning to their birthplace to spawn. There are special salmon ladders in each dam but only a fraction of the fish make it up the ladder.  As we approached the first dam someone pointed out a water pipe carrying baby salmon into the river. A sprinkler sprayed water to keep hungry birds away to give the little fish a chance to get into deeper water.

Low impact salmon fishing

  There is no longer commercial salmon fishing on the Columbia, but sport fishing is popular. So where did all the salmon served on the cruise boat every night come from? Two thirds of all salmon is now commercially farmed, mostly in Norway and Chile. The wild-caught salmon comes from the Pacific, mostly from Alaska. Wild caught is supposed to be better.

  Once through the lock, we were in the eighty mile long Gorge of the Columbia River. The Cascade Mountains towered thousands of feet above on either side. This is the part of the river shown in the ads. Waterfalls drop down the wooded hillsides. The higher mountains were snow capped 

 

Into the Gorge

  Our boat's competitor was tied up at the pier in Stevenson, Washington so we got a bonus cruise up the gorge while we waited for them to leave. Next morning Teresa and I were finally in the mood for a museum. After breakfast we hiked through Stevenson's small downtown and on another mile to the Columbia Gorge Interpretive Center. 

  The Center is an impressive building containing displays on the geology of the area, the indigenous peoples, Lewis and Clark, and the logging and salmon fishing industries. There was a full sized replica of a salmon fishing wheel. This ingenious machine uses the current of the river to scoop up salmon and deposit them into a holding tank. These wheels came close to wiping out salmon in the river till they were banned in the 1930s.

How to wipe out a natural resource. 

  There was an odd exhibit on the second floor. We came across eight tall wooden cabinets containing hundreds and thousands of rosary beads. One of the founders of the local historical society back in the 1930s had a hobby of collecting rosary beads. Once people hear you're interested in a certain thing they start giving you that thing. John F. Kennedy's rosary beads got their own wooden case.  The pamphlet about the collection said, "Please don't send any more rosary beads. We have enough already."

  That night we sailed upriver to The Dalles, Oregon. We were now east of the Cascades. This mountain range blocks much of the moisture from the Pacific. Juniper and tumbleweed replaced the giant Douglas fir and  Sitka spruce. We were now in the semi-arid high plains.

  We heard about a Lewis and Clark campsite a mile downstream from the boat pier and hiked over there. The sign said this “might” have been one of Lewis and Clark's many campsites. Based on journal entries and celestial sightings, they camped right here, or at a different spot forty miles away. Historians are still arguing.

Lewis and Clark may or may not have slept here.

  Four days into the cruise, we were just getting into the free museum thing. After the Lewis and Clark campsite we hiked to a park overlooking the city, then visited a pioneer cabin that had been moved twelve miles to the city, followed by a  tour of the remaining house at old Fort Dalles. There were guides in these places to explain how things used to be.

  We steamed up river that evening, passing through another lock in the middle of the night. Only the insomniacs witnessed that passage. In the morning the Columbia turned north leaving Oregon behind. We tied up in the city of Richland where the Snake River joins the Columbia. I had never heard of this place, but Richland along with its sister cities of  Kennewick and Pasco has a population of 100,000.

  We finally had a warm sunny day. We borrowed a couple of the boat's bikes and headed to The Reach, another interpretive center five miles upriver. The paved bike trail followed the river past marinas and condos, and across the Yakima River delta. Part of the route paralleled the freeway with its litter clogged fences. That was not so nice.

  Richland was a tiny town until WWII when the government decided to make plutonium here to help put an end to the war. Richland never looked back. The Reach was another impressive building. It was appropriate we were there because it was Earth Day. It was a Saturday and most of greater Richland was also celebrating Earth Day there. We didn't stay long and were soon on our way back to the boat and lunch. 

  Sunday was our final day on the river. On Saturday evening we left Richland and headed up the Snake River towards the Idaho border, passing through three more locks enroute.  By mid-morning Sunday we were in Clarkston, Washington. We hiked along the river a mile or so then back to the boat.  We were ready to be done cruising. Can too much time on a river induce claustrophobia? 

  Most of the other passengers had opted for the jet boat up the Snake River premium excursion.   The big cruise boat bus sat idling on the pier with only the driver and a local guide, Nick, aboard. There was nothing else to do. We hopped aboard the bus and got a personal tour of the environs. We got dropped off across the river in the much larger town of Lewiston, Idaho and idled away the afternoon in this pleasant old town then caught the bus back to the boat.

  We were invited to the entertainment lounge to say goodby to our crew. We happily toasted them as they marched by for they had done an excellent job. Next morning we got up early for breakfast and a two hour bus ride to the Spokane airport where we had left our car. We were offered a final premium tour in Spokane: a visit to Bing Crosby's boyhood home. We declined. We had to get to the Pacific by supper time.   

The best part of cruising