Columbia River, traveling East
We left the temperate rainforest of the Willamette Valley last night. Today, we have been moving over the glassy waters of the Columbia River with a clear and cloudless sky overhead, bald and brown rolling hills on either side. We are traveling through the dry plains of interior Oregon and Washington. The occasional green orchard, vineyard and settlement are passed by quietly, with thoughts of irrigation and its cost in the big scheme of things.
Although the Sea Lion “locked up” twice during the night, John Day lock and dam was the first we had a chance of seeing in daylight, and we transited right after breakfast. The dripping guillotine gate of over 700 tons in weight loomed overhead. The ship slipped into place and the gate was lowered oh-so-slowly. Soon the water started to flood from below and we rose to meet the bright morning light streaming over our heads. As our heads topped the uppermost concrete parapet, we saw Mt. Hood glowing palely in the west, behind the first bluffs of Columbia River basalt.
A river joining the Columbia in this area was named after an Astor-Hunt overland party member, John Day, who had a series of unfortunate events conspire against him back in 1812. In turn the lock and dam took on the name of this modest fellow, now an eternal part of Columbia River history. McNary lock and dam followed later, waterfowl and mule deer along the bank. Lewis and Clark were introduced to us, and the history of the region began to permeate our vision and understanding of our place in space and time. Modern day with the past intermingled.
As the sun began its descent in the west, we sailed through Wallula Gap, perhaps one of the most important geologic points in the entire Columbia River basin, yet our understanding of its significance still lies in the future, upriver. Some 15,000 years ago, this area was a bottleneck for the waters escaping the Lake Missoula floodwaters. Across the waters the “Twin Sisters” stand guard. These are two immense towers of basaltic lava which in Native American legend have Coyote turning some lovely young girls into towers for safekeeping (of a sort).
As we make our turn into the Snake River, we taste the wines born on the Steppes of Oregon and Washington as the sunset colors sweep the open skies.
We left the temperate rainforest of the Willamette Valley last night. Today, we have been moving over the glassy waters of the Columbia River with a clear and cloudless sky overhead, bald and brown rolling hills on either side. We are traveling through the dry plains of interior Oregon and Washington. The occasional green orchard, vineyard and settlement are passed by quietly, with thoughts of irrigation and its cost in the big scheme of things.
Although the Sea Lion “locked up” twice during the night, John Day lock and dam was the first we had a chance of seeing in daylight, and we transited right after breakfast. The dripping guillotine gate of over 700 tons in weight loomed overhead. The ship slipped into place and the gate was lowered oh-so-slowly. Soon the water started to flood from below and we rose to meet the bright morning light streaming over our heads. As our heads topped the uppermost concrete parapet, we saw Mt. Hood glowing palely in the west, behind the first bluffs of Columbia River basalt.
A river joining the Columbia in this area was named after an Astor-Hunt overland party member, John Day, who had a series of unfortunate events conspire against him back in 1812. In turn the lock and dam took on the name of this modest fellow, now an eternal part of Columbia River history. McNary lock and dam followed later, waterfowl and mule deer along the bank. Lewis and Clark were introduced to us, and the history of the region began to permeate our vision and understanding of our place in space and time. Modern day with the past intermingled.
As the sun began its descent in the west, we sailed through Wallula Gap, perhaps one of the most important geologic points in the entire Columbia River basin, yet our understanding of its significance still lies in the future, upriver. Some 15,000 years ago, this area was a bottleneck for the waters escaping the Lake Missoula floodwaters. Across the waters the “Twin Sisters” stand guard. These are two immense towers of basaltic lava which in Native American legend have Coyote turning some lovely young girls into towers for safekeeping (of a sort).
As we make our turn into the Snake River, we taste the wines born on the Steppes of Oregon and Washington as the sunset colors sweep the open skies.
