Columbia River
Draped cables supported by graceful arches are more than architectural components of the St. Johns Bridge. Spanning the Willamette River, it combines cables of steel with a graceful line to form a link, a physical connection with outlying communities. We share this sculptured connection with you in the photo above. There is a plaque near the base of this bridge which informs the inquiring reader of a short excursion up the Willamette made by William Clark in the spring of 1806. This plaque commemorates our first link, our first of many threads of connection with the Corps of Discovery as we follow the Willamette River to its confluence with the Columbia and head eastward.
Short tresses of gold hued grasses covered the basaltic hillsides upstream of The Dalles lock and dam. Amongst these hillsides, we strained our binoculared eyes seeking mule deer and later, Rocky mountain bighorn sheep. Eventually we found both, just as Meriwether Lewis had. In his journal Lewis gave a thorough description of the mule deer, including a measurement of the ear at eleven inches long. He was intimately familiar with eastern species of mammals, birds, fish, and flora. A new specimen would instantly have Lewis examining, comparing, writing and preserving his new found treasure in preparation to present it to Thomas Jefferson.
Later in the morning and further upstream, we found American white pelicans paddling, preening and otherwise engaging in pelican-like endeavors. While this species was not new to western science, Meriwether Lewis did procure a specimen and proceeded to measure and subsequently record that the pouch of the bird could hold five gallons of water. With these morning observations we wove into our connection with the Corps two more threads of commonality, deers’ ears and pelican pouches.
Reflected in the afternoon sun, silken streamers of spider webs trailed off our ship’s antennas (as well as a few of us!) as we stood on the bow basking in the warmth of this balmy autumn day. These threads reminded us of fall, the time when the Corps of Discovery traveled these western waters. Did they notice as they navigated through rapids, getting repeatedly doused and attempting to avoid rocks in the river rapids that webs were catching on their clothes or hats or canoes? It would be a safe bet that Meriwether would have, and if the spider were still attached to its temporary sail, he most likely would have scrutinized it and wrote perhaps a hundred words or more describing it.
The magnetism of still waters, a three quarter moon and a glowing horizon was stronger than the draw to go inside. We gathered on deck for an evening recap of our day and shared our different perceptions and expectations of our journey thus far. What we have experienced and what we expected have not meshed completely. However, we all agreed the strands we have gathered and thus far woven to create this experience have been delightful to the eye and, as a result of our specialty foods tasting event this evening, pleasant to the palette as well.
Draped cables supported by graceful arches are more than architectural components of the St. Johns Bridge. Spanning the Willamette River, it combines cables of steel with a graceful line to form a link, a physical connection with outlying communities. We share this sculptured connection with you in the photo above. There is a plaque near the base of this bridge which informs the inquiring reader of a short excursion up the Willamette made by William Clark in the spring of 1806. This plaque commemorates our first link, our first of many threads of connection with the Corps of Discovery as we follow the Willamette River to its confluence with the Columbia and head eastward.
Short tresses of gold hued grasses covered the basaltic hillsides upstream of The Dalles lock and dam. Amongst these hillsides, we strained our binoculared eyes seeking mule deer and later, Rocky mountain bighorn sheep. Eventually we found both, just as Meriwether Lewis had. In his journal Lewis gave a thorough description of the mule deer, including a measurement of the ear at eleven inches long. He was intimately familiar with eastern species of mammals, birds, fish, and flora. A new specimen would instantly have Lewis examining, comparing, writing and preserving his new found treasure in preparation to present it to Thomas Jefferson.
Later in the morning and further upstream, we found American white pelicans paddling, preening and otherwise engaging in pelican-like endeavors. While this species was not new to western science, Meriwether Lewis did procure a specimen and proceeded to measure and subsequently record that the pouch of the bird could hold five gallons of water. With these morning observations we wove into our connection with the Corps two more threads of commonality, deers’ ears and pelican pouches.
Reflected in the afternoon sun, silken streamers of spider webs trailed off our ship’s antennas (as well as a few of us!) as we stood on the bow basking in the warmth of this balmy autumn day. These threads reminded us of fall, the time when the Corps of Discovery traveled these western waters. Did they notice as they navigated through rapids, getting repeatedly doused and attempting to avoid rocks in the river rapids that webs were catching on their clothes or hats or canoes? It would be a safe bet that Meriwether would have, and if the spider were still attached to its temporary sail, he most likely would have scrutinized it and wrote perhaps a hundred words or more describing it.
The magnetism of still waters, a three quarter moon and a glowing horizon was stronger than the draw to go inside. We gathered on deck for an evening recap of our day and shared our different perceptions and expectations of our journey thus far. What we have experienced and what we expected have not meshed completely. However, we all agreed the strands we have gathered and thus far woven to create this experience have been delightful to the eye and, as a result of our specialty foods tasting event this evening, pleasant to the palette as well.
