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From: Dave Kruger <kdruger_at_pacifier.com>
subject: [Paddlewise] TR: An Ebb and Flood Shuffle on the Columbia River
Date: Thu, 22 Jul 2004 19:39:27 -0700
The tidal flow regime the last few days here has been ideal for
down-with-the-ebb / back-with-the-flood excursions, and yesterday's was a
real winner.  Longtime paddling buddy Jan and I copped a beautiful day on the
Columbia River, launching from Aldrich Point some 25 miles east of Astoria,
dipping some 7-8 miles down-river and cross-river to the upper end of Miller
Sands, and returning via a backwaterish, shallower route tailored to make use
of building tailwinds.

Aldrich Point is an out of the way bit of local weirdness:  on private land,
"leased" by the County for a boat ramp and tiny sandy beach, on the dike, and
across a railroad in repose ... at the very end of Aldrich Point Road.  It is
frequented by duck hunters and sport fishers with the now and then gaggle of
tots-and-moms/dads splashing in the current.  But paddlers?  Nope.

Yesterday was a scorcher, and we eased gratefully into the cool surface of
the ebb, muscling our way above Tronsen Island to skirt Goose and Woody
Islands enroute towards the WA shore, grounding once or twice and scaring
geese.  A half hour later, we were eying a freighter wake, wondering if our
particular bunch of shallow draft ground would go "off" like the ones a
hundred yards away.  Nope, no minibreakers (darn!), so it was off to Jim Crow
Creek and the defunct townsite of Brookfield, WA.  Brookfield is now a Social
Security haven for steelheaders, most morose, but one happily tending his
legal catch.  Used to be a metropolis of some 300 souls, with no landward
access, but its own post office, saloon, hotel, mansion, and fleet of
gillnetters.

We drifted with the tide up to a monster cliff on the upstream side of Jim
Crow Point, surprised by a pair of USCG surf boats, the cool 47-footers
normally seen on the bar, who flirted with our wakes and scanned the cliffs
for practice areas, and later turned and ran back to Cape Disappointment, 20
miles away.  The ebb sucked us around the point, Jan through the rough stuff
off the point, and both of us across a sharp eddyline into the eddy below the
point.

A pee break turned into a long conversation with the crowd of steelheaders
there, joshing about common acquaintances, but the ebb beckoned, and we were
off.

Below, Pillar Rock loomed, a fine place to practice crossing eddylines (we
did that), after which we ambled over to the adjacent cannery, the sole
remnant of four dozen which were scattered on these shores a century ago.
The cannery site is in cranky local ownership, but their pup did not know
that, side-wiggling his way down to the water's edge for a neck scratch ...
and What's this?  ... a short ride on the back deck!  Must be a water dog.

More ebb summoned us to the channel, dodging an upbound barge combo, and we
finally alighted on Miller Sands for an hour of lazing and trudging over bird
residues, spying on the eagle roosts and a huge lagoon, winter home for scads
of birds (and a SECRET -- don't tell anyone!).

Sticks tossed into the shallows showed some flood, so the old guys slid back
in, and headed upriver, easing over the shallows separating Miller Sands from
Jim Crow Sands onto the flats above the Snag Islands.  These islands are
themselves relics of days before channelization routed most of the river flow
into one route.  "Snag" refers to what happens to a gill net on unclean
drifts, and these were unclean, mandating divers each season to clear them of
snags.  Now, this area is prime windwave surf zone when the westerly breezes
blow, and yesterday they did ... gently ... making the pair of old guys work
hard for their rides.

Eventually, we glided/surfed past the outsides of Marsh and Horseshoe
Islands, and entered the cross-channel separating Woody Island from
Horseshoe.  Float houses there are in fine repair, with one owner busy
humping two by fours to enhance the interior by the thump of a generator.
Onward, onward, tiring as we paddle, into a backchannel adjacent to the
Prairie Channel, and another short stint in the open to Aldrich Point, to
load boats onto an oven of a pickup and to hit the slithery road back to
Highway 30.

I've been paddling out of Aldrich Point some 14 seasons, winter, summer, you
name it, and it stuns me how little use it gets from the paddling community.
Back in the early 1990's I confabulated its location and the places we
paddled, fearing an onslaught of Gore-texed flatlanders ... and they never
came.  I still see nobody else out there save the odd canoeist or guided
group from across the river.  I guess if there were orca, we'd have hordes.
I'm happy.

--
Dave Kruger
Astoria, OR
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