[Paddlewise] Desdemona Sands

The Columbia River is four miles wide at its narrow point here.  Upstream and
downstream, it spreads out. forming silty side bays and shallow sands in its
center.  The only two deep channels are against the opposing shores. I've
paddled all the deep stuff and most of the silty bays, but had not explored
the sandy center.  From a distance, the sand looks pretty boring, and it's
tough to access without a lot of work.  To top things off, when it blows, the
shallow shoals are a maelstorm of short, vicious chop.

But, a cool, calm morning beckoned, and I exit Youngs Bay below my house on a
falling tide, determined to -- at least -- set foot on Desdemona Sands, the
largest midriver shoal.  Desdemona has a history, being the first "inside"
obstacle after sailing ships transited the Columbia River bar, before jetties
and dredging channelized the river flow into reliable courses.  There was
even a lighthouse at its downstream tip.  Horse seining for salmon was run
off Desdemona;  piling forests stand as silent reminders of horse barns and
of bunkhouses for the seine crews.

Hitting the main shipping channel, I pick up a couple knots of ebb, angling
45 degrees upstream to counter its effect.  A sailboat churns upstream, its
small engine barely winning the contest, as a freighter takes the channel and
convinces smaller vessels to its edges.  Across the shipping channel and the
strongest current, I slip along Desdemona in lesser headcurrent, working my
way above the big bridge to Washington, stopping a half mile up.

Wheew!  This is hard work, especially for a guy whose paddling muscles are
not in the best of shape.  Two hours of labor, and I stand on sand recently
vacated by hundreds of seabirds, off the commercial district of Astoria, but
made invisible by the mile or so separating me from the ten thousand pairs of
eyes on shore.  Coffee provides relief coming and going, I guess, as I pee
onto the sand.  Way less impact than hundreds of bird poops, I hope.

The river sands shift so much and so often that charts for the center of the
river are useless.  Even so, I am surprised to find a large channel running
back downriver, cutting across the sands towards the WA shore.  Years ago,
there was dry sand here, making many square miles of it where now there are
only strips.  I can't resist, so I head down it, following the fading ebb,
now on the other side of the old piling site.

Terns skrawk at me, gulls meep, and cormorants mildly groan.  Here and there
a spit edges out and I have to gorilla walk a bit.  But, the tide should be
turning, so I can't get stranded, right?  What's that in the distance?  Pale
tan lumps on the sandbar?  My God, it's harbor seals ... and not just a few.
Standing off some 300 yards, I try to edge by without disturbing them, but
their sentinels are too alert, and they all pile off to surround me, ogling
my stern for spare fish.  Further down are two more haulouts, somewhat more
distant, and the seals stay put.

By now, my fading arms and the remnants of the ebb have put me at Hammond,
and the terminus of the Sands, some 5-6 miles from home.  So, I make the turn
to rejoin "my" side of the river and slowly shuffle "upstream" over slack
water past buoys, one in use by a couple dozen sailboats racing in light air.
Power boats buzz past, probably wondering what the lone kayaker is doing way
out here two miles from any shore.

I fade fast as I reenter my bay, hitting the coffee shop at Smith Point for
two rounds of espresso stimulation and half an hour of profound collapse
before I reenter the water for the last mile and a half to my car.

Desdemona Sands:  refuge for birds and pinnipeds ... and me.

--
Dave Kruger
Astoria, OR

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