Fog Horns & Wedding Bells: Married On The Columbia River

He went down on one knee, with ring in hand. "Now I'm going to ask you something and I want you to think very carefully before you answer. Will you marry me?"

I knew he was the one for me! I didn't need to think about it - my answer was on the tip of my tongue. But because he said he wanted me to think about it, I didn't answer right away. I waited a good 30 seconds.

Later in our marriage he would tell people that those 30 seconds were the longest seconds of his entire life. I loved teasing him that the fault was all his and he would just shake his head and agree.

My husband-to-be, (HB), loved to fish. He had spent many years boating and fishing on the Columbia River and had told me of his many adventures on the famous river.

One day, while listening to the "one-that-got-away" fish story for the ump-teenth time, I had an epiphany! He loves the water, I love the water. He loves to fish, I love to fish. He loves the Columbia River and I had never been on the Columbia River. Why didn't we get married on a boat on the Columbia River?

After all, people get married on horseback; in airplanes; on the beach; in parks; on Harleys; just about anywhere these days. Why not get married on a boat!

We searched the newspapers for just the right boat. Finally one day in February we found a 27' Bayliner for sale. We went to look at it and it was just perfect. Small enough to trailer easily and big enough to live on comfortably for weeks at a time. Perfect!

We agreed: the ceremony would be on Memorial Day and the maiden voyage (for us) on our new boat would be our honeymoon on the Columbia River!

I have heard people say, "A boat is a big hole in the water into which you throw your money." I think I know what they mean - but I also think that after all is said and done, buying a boat is money well spent! The cost of fantastic memories? Priceless!

(Picture: Marina at the Port of Kalama, courtesy of the Port of Kalama - thank you, Mindi!)

It took several weeks of hard scrubbing and detailing to get our honeymoon vessel back into tip-top shape. The Bayliner Cruiser was a couple of years old, and had been run in the salt water of the Puget Sound. We wanted to make sure everything, from stem to stern was clean and working properly.

The full canvas had protected the seat cushions and dashboards but showed a little wear and tear of its own. We pulled it off and had it completely replaced. Removing the aluminum umbrella braces was quite a job! Reassembling them and then stretching the new canvas over them took a tremendous amount of effort. We decided then and there that we would probably leave the canvas on. The clear windows all the way around the canvas made for clear vision and the sides and end rolled up easily for air flow - and of course, fishing!

We enlisted family and friends and in no time at all the entire cabin and hull sparkled from washing and waxing. No barnacles would find a home on this ship!

The boat trailer had some rust but steel brushes and lots of elbow grease removed it With a little primer and a new coat of paint, the trailer looked as shiny as the boat herself. The tires weren't too bad, and we planned to trailer our boat to port and leave her there, so new tires could wait for the time being.

The boat would not be used until the wedding. I'm not sure how wise this was since the engines could only be tested for a few minutes while the propellers churned up the water in big cleaned-out oil drums. If either one of us had concerns, neither one of us mentioned them. It may have been a little naive, but not stating worries out loud seemed to give us the confidence that everything would be fine.

Our final task was naming the boat. Some people believe that changing the name on a boat is bad luck, but we were lucky in the fact that our new boat did not have a name yet. Why HB suggested we name the boat after me will always be a mystery, but, in all humility, I finally agreed. She would be called the Jenny G.

I asked him once if it was his way of remembering his wife's name....or, if he thought I was as big as a boat. But he would just smile and say it was a good name for the two most beautiful women in his life. I'd say that he epitomized tactfulness and could easily run for President - and get elected.

Kalama, Washington, population approximately 2,500, is a little town situated on the Columbia River between Longview and Vancouver, Washington, just north of Portland, Oregon.

The Kalama River, named after native Hawaiian John Kalama, empties into the Columbia River. It seems that John Kalama settled at the river site after finding that a life at sea was not for him.

(PICTURE: A bird's-eye view of the Port of Kalama on the Columbia River - courtesy of the Port of Kalama, Washington. Thank you, POK!)

John picked a good spot to settle because the city of Kalama, named after the Kalama River, became popular when the Northern Pacific Railway picked the settlement to establish its railroad ferry. The city was unofficially incorporated in 1871 .

The final rails of the Northern Pacific Railway, stretching from Tacoma to Kalama, were laid in 1874. To complete the rail route to Portland, the railroad ran the ferry across the Columbia River from Kalama, Washington to Goble, Oregon. This ferry ran from 1883 until 1909 when the rail bridges in Portland were finally completed.

In 1920, the people of Kalama voted to establish the Port of Kalama along seven miles of Columbia riverfront property. This major port runs adjacent to the federally maintained Columbia River deep draft navigation channel.

Located at the port are the Burlington Northern/Santa Fe and Union Pacific railroads as well as over 20 industries employing over 1,000 people. Industries include marine terminals, grain terminal, buildings, RV park, and a marine refueling station.

Many people enjoy camping, swimming, windsurfing, hiking, boating, and fishing.There are 222 slips at the recreational marina and the RV Park sports the largest totem pole in the Pacific Northwest.

The Port of Kalama was the perfect place for our wedding - and for the launching of our honeymoon vessel.

The affordable slips at the Port of Kalama are well protected from the Columbia River currents and from the often unpredictable Pacific Northwest storms. The Port is well maintained and offers great security for life and property.

Kalama was the best middle-of-the-river-route marina for our purposes. There are 40 miles, as the crow flies, (36 nautical miles) from Kalama, Washington to Gresham, Oregon and 49 miles, as the crow flies, (42 nautical miles) from Kalama, Wa. to Astoria, Oregon. Gresham was about as far up river as we wanted to go and Astoria is almost at the mouth of the river. We figured that whatever direction we went, up river or down river, the Port of Kalama would be a good place to start.

(Even though it takes twice as long to get upstream as to get downstream - especially if they release water from Bonneville Dam - it's still a pretty middle-of-the-river place to be!)

The authorities at the Port of Kalama were friendly and helpful and provided us with all the information and applications we needed to secure a slip for the Jenny G.

We secured the Jenny G. tightly onto her trailer, hooked her up to our Jeep pickup and pulled her the 106 miles from our home in Tacoma to our slip in the marina at the Port of Kalama.

Convincing a minister to perform a wedding on a boat is not hard. Convincing him to do it without getting to go for a boat ride isn't so easy. We were committed to being the first and only ones to ride in the Jenny G for our honeymoon. Inviting anyone on a boat trip on our wedding day was out of the question.

Fortunately for us, we found just the right man. He served the little Methodist Church in Kalama, was a boat-owner himself, and graciously accepted our request to marry us. His beautiful wife agreed to be a witness for us and they quickly penciled in the date on their calendars.

It would not be a big wedding. After all, how many people would fit on the deck of a 27' Bayliner? The two of us, our immediate family, the minister and his wife made nine. Nine people stood in an area smaller than most people's bathrooms and watched us share our marriage vows. Instead of throwing the bouquet, I just turned around and handed it to the closest single person behind me.

I wore a Hawaiian moo-moo. A white carnation lei surrounded my shoulders. He wore a white turtleneck, marine blue jacket with a captains hat atop his head. The Jenny G. was covered in fresh red and white flowers and red, white and blue ribbons. The wedding cake shared the marine theme with red, white and blue anchors and chains, with a tiny bronze ship's bell on top.

After sharing cake and champagne we bid an appreciative farewell to our guests, changed into proper boating gear (cut off jeans and t-shirts) and fired up the Jenny G's engine.

UN-DOCKING & DOCKING PROCEDURE

As my new husband warmed her up, I untied the bow lines of the Jenny G at the dock and then threw them onto the bow. From the dock, I stepped onto the stern, stepped past the helm, down through the galley and then between the twin bow-bunks, I pulled myself up through the bow hatch. I secured the bowlines and dropped back down through the hatch into the bow, back through the galley and up onto the helm where I joined my husband who sat at the wheel monitoring engine gauges. This was the Un-docking procedure.

Reverse this process and you have the Docking Procedure.

I can tell you I became extremely proficient at these Docking and Un-docking procedures as I would repeat them every day, sometimes six or seven times a day, for the next two weeks, and for years after that.

We tied up at the gas dock (the docking procedure), filled the gas tanks with gas, untied from the gas dock (the un-docking procedure), and then we pointed our vessel past the loading ramp and out of the narrow port access area.

It was a short, simple, calm wedding and we were looking forward to two weeks of a long, simple, calm boating and fishing experience!

Because the water had been so calm and peaceful inside the Port's marina, I guess we assumed it was calm and peaceful outside the Port's marina. Boy, were we wrong!

The magnificent Columbia River flows from British Columbia through Washington State and forms much of the Washington-Oregon border before emptying into the Pacific. It is the largest river in the Pacific Northwest and flows for 1,243 miles.

(I took this picture from the top of the Astoria Column, high above the town of Astoria, Oregon. It captures the vastness of the Columbia River where it empties into the Pacific Ocean. This is the fourth largest river in the United States! The Astoria-Megler bridge stretches 4.1 miles across the Columbia River from Astoria, Oregon to Point Megler, Washington.)

The Columbia was named after the first ship to navigate its waters, the 230-ton COLUMBIA REDIVIVA. In 1792, the American Captain of the COLUMBIA REDIVIVA, Robert Gray, first entered the Columbia River between Point Adams (now Oregon) and Cape Disappointment (now Washington).

Just west of Astoria lies what's known as the Columbia Bar - one of the most hazardous waterways in the world. The sand at the bar shifts unpredictably where the Columbia river surges out into the sea, and the powerful sea tides attempt to push the river back again.

In 1926 Astorians started a ferry system to cross from Oregon to Washington, however, the ferry trip took about a half hour to complete and only ran in good weather.

The Astoria-Megler Bridge, the longest continuous truss bridge in North America, took four years to build and was completed in 1966, at the cost of $24 million. This sizable amount was to be paid from toll passage revenue collected from locals crossing from Oregon to Washington. as well as travelers continuing their journey along the famous coastal Hwy 101.

The bridge's 4.1 mile span across the Columbia River completed the final missing link in the Mexico to Canada highway.

There were many critics of the "bridge to nowhere", as it was labeled. People who thought the bridge was a bad idea were convinced that the bridge would never pay for itself. When the toll booths were removed in December, 1993, two years earlier than projected, it had turned out to be a pretty good idea.

RIVER FLOW FROM THE BONNEVILLE LOCK AND DAM TO ASTORIA

The Columbia River Bonneville Lock and Dam, are located about 40 miles east of Portland. It is run by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and power is distributed by the Bonneville Power Administration (BPA).

In 1896, the Cascade Locks and Canal were built to lift ships up a few "river steps" to get past the Cascades Rapids, several miles up river of Bonneville.

In 1934, as part of our Country's Depression recovery plan, the Army Corps of Engineers constructed a new lock and a powerhouse on the Oregon side and a spillway on the Washington side.

1938 saw the opening of the original navigation lock at Bonneville. At that time it was the largest single-lift lock in the world.

The old lock and the Cascades were submerged by the Bonneville Reservoir, or Lake Bonneville, the waters collected behind the dam.

Interestingly, in an attempt to popularize the post-depression era work on the dam, the BPA hired singer/song writer Woody Guthrie to memorialize stories about the mighty Columbia River and set them to music. These songs became known as "The Columbia River Ballads".

Especially memorable is the Guthrie song "Roll On, Columbia, Roll On" which memorialized the taming of the Columbia River and was adopted as the Washington State official folk song in 1987. His music and songs captured the lure and magic of the Columbia River.

Construction on a second powerhouse was completed in 1982 and then in 1993 the new Bonneville Lock was completed.

The dam stopped the white sturgeon migration to upstream spawning areas, however, Sturgeon still spawn below the dam. There are a few white sturgeon in various upstream regions.

The water flow-rate below Bonneville is affected by diversions for irrigation and by the reverse flow created from Pacific Ocean tides.

Seasonally, water is released through the Bonneville Dam, creating a flood of water to rush down the Columbia, increasing river flow significantly!

There are many natural wonders located along the Columbia River and through the Columbia River Gorge. Interstate Highway 84 snakes its way along 80 miles of the river until the highway continues east where the river bends to the North through Washington.

To get off the beaten track, travel the Columbia River Gorge Scenic Highway. It offers breathtaking views of the Columbia River and surrounding natural wonders.

(For more cool information about the Gorge, check out http://www.crgva.org/)

Travelers from around the world have come to visit Multnomah Falls on the Oregon side of the Columbia a few miles east of Troutdale, Oregon. From the top of Larch Mountain, Multnomah Falls drops 620 feet and is the second tallest year-around waterfall in the nation . There is a steep hiking trail up to the mid-section of the falls, where the powerful water has worn out an amazing natural amphitheater. The trail then bridges the waters and continues up the mountainside east of the falls. There are breathtaking views from almost every angle!

Just below the falls, the Visitor Center offers shops and food and rest facilities. A museum run by The Friends of Multnomah Falls volunteers and the U.S. Forestry Service shares rich local history and critter information. They offer frequent special presentations on the local habitat and are happy to answer questions.

On our last visit we learned about the magnificent Osprey - a large bird that nests near the Columbia. In winter they fly South, some to Florida and some as far south as to the southern tip of South America. Then they usually return each year to the same nest.

There is an Osprey platform nest (they are about six feet plus in diameter!) located on the river side of the Interstate 84, about a quarter of a mile east of Multnomah Falls, and a NEW Osprey tree nest about a half mile west of the Falls.

Our official guide mentioned that the experts were very surprised to see the new tree nest as they are evidently very unusual. The Osprey normally like to nest on platforms.

Interestingly, he said, the Osprey mate for life, however, each year they take separate vacations! If one of them does not show up at their nest within two weeks of the designated time the following year, a new mate is found.

Now isn't that just fickle - and exciting. Almost as fickle and exciting as I have found the river herself to be. You never know how she will treat you from one day to the next.

By the time our wedding celebration ended it was late afternoon. According to the tide tables (we had countless river charts, maps and tide tables aboard) the ocean tides were not hindering the flow of water out of the Columbia.

(Picture: Water rushing from Bonneville Dam )

Along with the normally swift down-river current, the powers-to-be were releasing water from the Bonneville Dam. This torrent of additional water causes massive waves and wakes on the Columbia. The rise in the river causes several boating hazards. Fallen logs and stumps from upstream are washed off shore and race down river like fired torpedos. This was not going to be a calm honeymoon boat ride.

Thankfully, HB had years of experience navigating the Columbia River and he was not surprised at its current condition (pun intended). My job entailed watching for "floaters" - logs and other things that could potentially ram and sink our boat. I also kept a close eye out for smaller boats (I wondered who in their right mind would sail in a smaller boat on a river in this condition?). I learned to keep my captain-husband aware of the location of the many channel buoys as well.

These buoys have red markings on one side. Something like the yellow line down the center of the road, these buoys helped keep boat traffic in the deep channel. A boat should be on the red side of the buoy when traveling up stream. The buoy should be on the left side of the boat when following the current down stream. The rule of thumb was "Red on the Right Returning, (meaning "returning from sea" - or traveling up stream).

(For more interesting information about "Red on the Right Returning" check out the site http://www.redrightreturning.net/about-2/red-right-returning)

Keeping the buoy on the correct side of the boat is vitally important, especially in smaller channels where you can easily be grounded on a sandbar. The Columbia River has many sandbars - I know! I found out that my new husband's middle name was "Sandbar"!

With all this new information under my belt, I felt like an experienced river navigator. Of course, I still had an enormous amount to learn about the Columbia River.

WE CHOSE UP RIVER

Why we chose to head toward Portland, and eventually Gresham, Oregon, is a mystery to me. With all that water pushing down river, the Jenny G's engines were put to the test to head up river. She performed amazingly.

It only took four hours to make it to Portland (normally an hour trip). To say we were tired would be an understatement. We had used most of our gas and decided to fill up the tanks so we would be ready to go in the morning.

Docking procedure, gassing up, and un-docking procedure accomplished, we found a slip in a nice little marina at Jantzen Beach. The marina had a security gate which appealed to us. We had two weeks worth of gear aboard the Jenny G. and didn't want to lose any of it to river pirates. The marina office gave us a four digit code to release the security gate lock in case we wanted to leave the marina.

Dining at the nearby large hotel restaurant looked inviting so we donned our dining attire. We made sure the marina security gate closed securely and walked to the restaurant.

Though the clock said 9pm, the host at the restaurant informed us there would be an hour wait for a table. We agreed to wait the hour, thinking we would just sit and rest. Our stomachs were growling with hunger but one more hour was do-able.

An hour and a half later we still had not been given a table and the chances to get one soon weren't promising. We decided to go back to the Jenny G, heat up some canned chow mien with crispy noodles and hit the sack. A day that had begun at 4am had taken its toll on us physically and mentally.

Reaching the marina security gate, HB entered the four digit security code. Nothing. He waited a few minutes and tried again. The gate remained locked. He gave me the code and I tried it. Still no use. Almost midnight and we could not get back to our boat. What were we to do?

We discussed going back to the hotel and getting a room - but we decided that with our luck they wouldn't have any vacancies. Just about the time we thought about looking for an emergency number on the marina office door another couple approached the gate.

They looked at us wearily. Thankfully, we convinced them we were not river pirates. They unlocked the door and walked us to our boat. Once they could see we were indeed the owners of the Jenny G, they said good night and continued to their own boat.

Canned chow mien remains a special feast at our house still today. Not that it was ever our favorite meal. It's just that eating canned chow mien always brings special memories of a perfect wedding day, an exciting voyage up the river and a strange honeymoon meal.

My husband and I are both early risers. We are morning people. The sun comes up, we wake up - anything less is burning daylight. So, even after getting to bed well after mid-night the night before, we showered, dressed and un-docked by first light. (The showering took no time at all! The head doubled as the shower and was so small you could sit on the head, turn on the shower and brush your teeth in the sink all at the same time.)

(Picture: Early morning calm - my favorite time of day on the river.)

When I rolled up the sides of the canvas and saw the river it took my breath away. The water that surrounded us was as smooth as glass. No breeze, no sounds - only the occasional jump of a fish and the faint chirp of a bird in a distance tree.

I couldn't believe my eyes. The river that had been a raging torrent of liquid the day before, flowed lazily downstream. I took special care to be very quiet in my un-docking procedure. It seemed like any noise would have disturbed a religiously sacred moment. My husband let the Jenny G idle quietly as the v of the hull glided effortlessly through the tranquil liquid.

Early morning on the river will always be the most perfect time of day for me; the sound of a boat, cutting a trough out of the water as easily as a hot knife slipping through butter. Liquid splitting gracefully, almost silently and then folding back together once traversed.

Once into the main channel of the mighty Columbia we headed east, toward Bonneville Dam. We had fishing licenses for both Washington and Oregon so knew we were ok to fish on either side of the river. My husband knew of a great fishing hole on the Washington side. It wasn't near as far as Bonneville but just about straight across from Gresham (east of Portland).

Within about an hour we had arrived at his secret fishing hole. You know, all fishermen have secret fishing holes. They are probably all the same secret fishing holes of every other fishermen, but there be curses upon any fisherman who tells the location of his special fishing hole. (Sometimes fishing holes are only 7-10 feet deep!)

We tied up to a log raft (boom). I've been told that lumber companies season their cut logs in the Columbia River by tying them into rafts and then letting them sit and soak, but I'm not sure if that's the real reason. There are metal rings attached to some logs, and then chains connect those logs together to form diamond shaped frames. Then the diamond shapes are filled with other logs. Kinda of like jigsaw puzzle pieces. These huge rafts are then attached to solid pilings, both front and end and can be five or six rafts wide from shore.

For boats, these rings on the outside logs are great places to tie the bow and stern ropes - bow headed upstream, of course - then throw a couple of bumpers over the side to protect the boat from log rubbing. We found some of the best fishing holes near these log rafts. I'm not sure of the legalities of tying to these rafts, but it was many years ago and at that time no one seemed to mind.

It was a good thing that we tied both bow and stern lines to the log raft as by noon the water was rushing out of the dam like the day before. The strong current tugged at the lines and the bumpers were taking quite a beating.

Between the thrashing current and a brisk wind we were forced to give up fishing and decided to head back downstream and see if the fishing improved below Kalama.

I stayed on the bow while my husband climbed out onto the log raft and untied the bow line. He doubled it through the ring and handed me both ends so I could hold the boat in place until he could get the stern line untied, the engine started and the Jenny G put into gear. We were concerned that the current would grab the boat and swing her around before we were prepared. It took all my strength to hold her against the raft.

He untied the stern, jumped into the boat, started it up and put it into forward gear to give me some slack. The engine purred as usual but there was no slack. She should have moved forward once in gear - but she didn't move.

HB put her in and out of gear several times in hopes, by miracle, everything would eventually work. No chance. In the meantime, my arms were weakening from holding the lines. The current's pull on the boat gained momentum.

Gripping both ends of the rope with every ounce of strength I could muster, I sat down on the bow and put my feet up against the bow railing to brace myself. I closed my eyes, and prayed.

About the time I didn't think I could hold it any longer I felt a couple of tugs on the rope. HB finally realized the predicament I was in and jumped back on the log raft to tie the bow again.

With aching arms, I hopped down the bow hatch, scrambled through the galley and met him on deck. He flipped a switch on the dashboard (it raised the propeller assembly in the rear), then leaned over the stern to check the prop. Later he explained to me that since we had power, but no forward or reverse gear, he had calculated that there must be a problem with the propeller. That made sense.....right?

Well, his diagnosis was close....it was a propeller problem - we had NO propeller. Somehow, somewhere our propeller had fallen off. It was a miracle we were tied to something when it happened or we would have been washed down stream with the wild Columbia River current ending in whatever fate befell us!

In the movie "Six Days, Seven Nights" Anne Heche asks Harrison Ford if he isn't that kind of guy that "they send into the jungle with a pocket knife and he builds you a shopping mall?" Proudly I declare here and now, my husband is THAT guy! You can send him to the river in a boat with no propeller and he will make a propeller out of tin cans and pickle jar lids!

He fixed us up enough that we could get across the river to some boathouses. There we met the most wonderful fellow. He lived on the river and had two vehicles: a pickup truck and a 25' Bayliner Cruiser. He loaned us his pickup truck to go to town and get a new propeller and assembly hardware.

We will forever be grateful for his compassion and trust. River people are like that - fun-loving, kind and helpful.

Once our new propeller was on good and tight, we bid a fond farewell to our new friends and headed down river toward Kalama. We slid into our slip at the Port of Kalama well after dark with the feeling that we'd been gone a month instead of just two days.

Back at Kalama, HB and I agreed that it would be nice to just lazily sit and fish for a day or two - far from the rushing current of the Columbia.

About a quarter of a mile upstream from the Port, a little waterway called Martin Slough curved around a small island. HB had a little history of fishing success in this slough, so we pointed the Jenny G upstream once more.

(Picture: We were used to seeing huge cargo ships but this gigantic Navy vessel took us by surprise!)

The river waves jumped and the current surged as it had the previous two days, but the water level was not as high as it had been. We could tell because of the exposed land on the shores. Also, some pilings from an old dock peeked their water logged heads out of the water near the entrance to the slough.

Tying to log rafts again, we fished for a few hours deep within the Slough. The weather cooperated all day - warm with a slightly cooler breeze. The boat sat quietly once off of the swift river current.

But our fishing lines sat quietly too. There were no fish biting in the slough that day. We decided to see if fishing closer to the channel would produce better results.

We went back to the entrance to the slough, where the old dock pilings were lined out from the island about 10 feet out into the river. We didn't want to set anchor because of the river's current. I balanced myself on the bow while HB drove the boat toward the piling (driving against the current!) and I would throw the looped bow line at the piling in hopes I could catch it securely. It took several tries but we finally made it.

The boat swung like a pendulum - left to right, right to left - what a ride! We knew if we threw our fishing lines out toward the river here, the bait would be in Astoria before we could set the reels! Not a good place to fish!!

I climbed back up the bow hatch, ready to release the lines and happened to notice a ship heading up river. Great monstrous container ships were commonly seen everyday,creeping up and sliding back down the deep river channel every day. We were very careful to stay out of the channel - and out of their way! But the ship I saw that day was not a cargo ship, or a tug with a barge, or anything else like we had seen cruising up and down the river before. It was a gigantic U.S. Navy vessel!

I scurried back down the bow hatch, ran through the galley and up to the helm to get HB's attention. He had spotted it too and stood speechless. We both sat back in our deck chairs and watched a most impressive parade of ships cruise by us!

Every year in June Portland throws a great celebration - The Portland Rose Festival. Activities include a Grand Floral Parade, Junior Parade, Starlight Parade, Floral Walk, Music Fest, Queen's Coronation, Rose Cup Races, and many more events, including a Fleet Parade.

See http://www.rosegardenstore.org/rosefestivalhistory.cfm for a lot more information about the rich history of Portland Rose Festival!

The Fleet Parade includes a grand display of marine vessels; Navy and Coast Guard, and various impressive boats and ships of all sizes have been part of the watery parade since 1907. Among visitors have been The USS Charleton, the U.S. Cruiser San Francisco, the U.S. Battleship Oregon, just to throw some big names around!

Today, more than twenty ships arrive for a spectacular ceremony. United States ships, Canadian ships and occasionally ships from Japan or other countries come and dock at the Westside Seawall of the Willamette River. Amazingly, these ships have welcomed visitors for personal, chance-of-a-lifetime, on-board tours.

For all the boaters and fisherman along the Columbia, from Astoria to Portland, these magnificent ships give a grand pre-festival parade of their own as they cruise up river toward the Portland.

The sight of the grand U.S. Fleet ships parading by seemed to swell up the pride within us. How impressive!

Approximately 25 miles west of Kalama is the little town of Cathlamet. In 1846, it was originally called Birnie's Retreat, established by James Birnie, a retired Hudson Bay employee. He and his wife and ten children settled the area as a trading post. It was then incorporated on February 4, 1907 when Cathlamet's docks thrived with commercial fishing, canneries and logging. Today the docks are used by fishing companies, tugboat operations and recreational boaters.

(Picture: Sturgeon! Possibly hiding under the Julia Butler Hansen Bridge! (or not?) Picture courtesy of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sturgeon)

There is a bridge connecting Cathlamet, Washington to Puget Island called the Julia Butler Hansen Bridge, named after the first woman democratic elected to the House of Representatives in the state of Washington. There is also a ferry that has been running since 1926 that carries foot passengers and bicyclists across the river.

Beneath the Julia Butler Hansen bridge flows a northern branch of the Columbia River. This branch breaks away from the main channel of the Columbia about four miles from Cathlamet and joins the main channel again just downstream from Cathlamet.

HEADING DOWN STREAM

After the amazing parade of ships, HB and I headed for port to fill our bait bucket. The fish in the Columbia were getting fat on our bait and we needed to stock up. We met a fellow at the bait shop in Kalama who told us there could be some pretty good fishing under the bridge at Cathlamet. He mentioned there were some sandbars, but if we could find the holes just under the bridge we could have some good luck.

HB and I both dreamed about Sturgeon all night. Early the next morning we untied, refueled and headed down stream toward Cathlamet. It amazed me how easy it was going downstream! For the past three days we had to power up to make any head-way. Going down stream was a breeze!

We took the branch that cut away from the main channel and made good time to the Julia Butler Hansen bridge. When we left the main channel it meant we no longer had channel buoys to help us stay in deep water. This is where a depth sounder comes in handy.

A depth sounder makes a beeping or buzzing noise when it detects the river bottom getting too close to the bottom of your boat. It can be set to however many feet you want.

The Jenny G drew three feet of water - the draft, or the amount of distance covered by the water displaced by the boat. So HB set the depth sounder to three feet. Unfortunately this is like a six foot bungee jumper buying rope that stretches 36 feet, for a 30 foot jump.

The water under the bridge is far greater than three feet deep but of course, we didn't stay in one spot very long. The depth sounder beeped aggressively every time we tried a new fishing hole.

This is when I discovered that my husbands middle name was "Sandbar". As changed locations, the depth sounder would beep, and the boat would slide to a stop as it had run aground on a sandbar. If HB couldn't rock the boat, forward, reverse, forward, reverse, off of the sandbar, then plan B took over.

Plan B meant I climbed down into the galley, changed into my swimming suit, stepped down the stern ladder and dug the propeller out of the sand. Once I dug a good sized hole and freed up the prop, I climbed back up the ladder, HB backed off the sandbar and I sat on the deck wrapped in a towel waiting for the next sandbar.

I didn't mind doing this at all. Why? Well, for one thing, I love to swim so any chance to get in the water felt great. Also, we did manage learn where all the sandbars were!

One of us, (I don't remember who but it was more than likely me), suggested that we move the depth sounder to four feet, at least. That would have made sense because, at by the time it beeped we would have had a little time to steer in another direction (like - miss a sandbar completely?). Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference - we'll never know.

Just before sunset we pulled into the little marina in Cathlamet. There were a lot of boats from all up and down the river. We met people from Portland, Astoria and even above Bonneville. All boaters, having a GREAT time - rafted two and three deep there were lots of bar-b-ques and parties going on. I can tell you one thing for sure - even with all the noise I slept very good that night!

The next morning we walked into town - a short, brisk uphill jaunt and we found the nicest little restaurant. HB said it was the BEST Ham and eggs he had ever tasted, and my omelet was superb, and the service was absolutely top-notch. We went back many times - even once or twice by car. I don't believe it is there anymore - and that's a shame. I'll have to go back and see.......

Note: Cathlamet is far more than "sandbars and great breakfasts". Be sure to search for and read more about this great little town!)

It rains a lot in Oregon and Washington. In Tacoma we used to say "if you can see Mt. Rainier it's going to rain - and if you can't see it, it's raining". Guess that would go for Mt. Hood in Oregon.

The Columbia River, and the Gorge, are famous for violent, savage storms. The winds have been known to blow 130 mph through the Columbia River Gorge. As a natural wind tunnel the winds can typically run anywhere between 15-20mph to 35-50 mph on average seasonally.

(This picture of storm clouds forming above the Columbia River Gorge is courtesy of Danny Burk. Visit "www.dannyburk.com for fine photographic prints, galleries, information and reviews, drum scanning and instructional field and Photoshop workshops" Thank you, Danny!)

And the lower Columbia is mentioned many times throughout history for the devastating results of sunken ships and lives lost during violent storms.

From the results of a Google Search of Storm History for the Columbia River:

"Jan 13, 1936 - GALE BALKS ATTEMPTS AT RESCUE. Storm Crew. Wrecks Ship;. of 34:::Men Lost. Times staff artist s sketch shows location of Peacock Spit at the mouth of the Columbia River, where the freighter Iowa ran aground and broke up yesterday. Her entire crew of thirty-four apparently drowned. ... "
pqasb.pqarchiver.com/latimes/access/396095381 ...

"Dec 6, 1901 - She crossed the Columbia .River bar a week ago to-night, and before she had gone a great distance she encountered a severe storm, and was roughly handled. Her cargo of wheat shifted, causing her to list to starboard. She was picked up by the tug Wallula, and an effort was made to tow ...
From THE SHIP NELSON SAFE.; Towed Into Puget Sound After a Marvelous ....."

"Jan 10, 1980 - Along the Oregon-Washington border, blizzard conditions in the Columbia River Gorge brought to a halt, and about 125 boats sank under the weight of ice and snow ... More than a foot was reported at Vancouver, Wash., just across the river from Portland."

(http://www.google.com/search?q=Storm+history+on+Columbia+River)

HB and I had enjoyed excellent weather since our reciting our nuptial vows and departing Kalama. Other than the raging river currents, we were blessed with sunshine and slight winds.

So far we were able to tie the bow to log rafts and fish from the stern. The option of anchoring on the river would have produced scant fishing. Anchored, the Jenny G would be pulled side to side by the currents. A fishing line is hard to track in this situation - not to mention the possibility of the anchor slipping and perhaps snagging on something on the river bottom.

As HB and I left the Cathlamet branch of the river and headed for a small tributary called Deep River, we noticed the storm clouds forming in the West but didn't pay much attention to them. HB had spent a lot of time on Deep River - cat fishing mainly. He wanted to share this little river with me and I was anxious to see it.

This smaller river is located on the Washington side of the river, approximately across from the Tongue Point/Astoria, Oregon side.

As we headed west out of the Cathlamet channel, we returned to the deep channel and followed the buoys. This part of the Columbia River is very wide and is known for its many sandbars.

Approximately twenty river miles west we broke off from the channel and headed toward Grays Bay, a shortcut to Deep River. We could have followed the deep river channel west toward Astoria and then cut directly north to Deep River where the channels were more defined. HB said the channel route would have taken quite a bit longer and that he had taken the shortcut many times before.

In this Grays Bay shortcut section of the river, there are times, when the tide is low, you could actually walk quite a ways from sandbar to sandbar. Maneuvering a boat carefully through the small channels along HB's shortcut was possible, but I wouldn't want to try it with a boat that drew much more than three feet.

We kept the depth sounder on and it did help some. When it started to beep, HB would change direction until it quit beeping. Many times I stretched over the stern rail and watched the prop churn up sandy/muddy water. Luckily Plan B did not have to come into play. It reminded me of climbing a mountain on switch-back roads. We switched directions constantly while keeping our focus on the goal - Deep River.

By the time we zig-zagged across Grays Bay, the storm clouds were billowing up pretty well. Dark and foreboding, it seemed like it might be a good time to turn on the radio and see if there were any river storm warnings. These river storms have been known to chew up boats and spit them back out. It was our fervent hope that this would not happen to the Jenny G.

Sure enough! A storm warning had been issued. We had just enough time to scramble from the mouth of Deep River, straight south across the Columbia to Astoria. Taking our time-saving shortcut was all for naught. Thankfully, the tide was coming in so we didn't have to waste much time watching out for sandbars anymore. As it turned out we made it to Astoria just ahead of the storm.

There is a super-nice marina at Astoria. It shelters boats from the river fairly well. Almost every slip was taken by other boats looking for shelter from the coming storm. We managed to secure one of the very last slips, right off a dock that ran parallel to the shore.

Once the Jenny G was tied and secure, we showered, changed and went to town for a relaxing dinner. It was quite a hike to downtown Astoria and by the time we hit the main stores it had begun to rain. We stopped at a department store and purchased 2 waterproof raincoats, thinking they would keep us dry. Ha! I never imagined that rain flew horizontally - so hard - so fast - and for so long!

After drying out at dinner, we headed back to the marina, but the wind was so strong we could barely walk upright. We decided to splurge on a taxi ride.

Once back at the Jenny G, we battened down the hatches! The wind continued to howl, the water rose and fell. Determined to ride it out, we eventually fell asleep, exhausted. What a night!

Things had pretty well calmed down by morning - but something just wasn't quite right. The boat listed. "Listed" means "tilted". It's what usually happens when you have more weight on one side of the boat than the other - making the boat tilt toward the heavy side. But we hadn't changed our cargo at all - why would it be tilted?

You guess it - we were aground. The tide went out - and took the water right out from under us. No wonder that slip was available! Everyone else knew not to take it!

Sitting like a beached whale we waited for the tide to come back in. Thankfully, being aground had not caused any running gear problems and we eagerly slipped out of the marina, back across the Columbia and finally to Deep River!

Astoria, located at the western end of the Lewis and Clark Trail in Oregon, is a nationally significant historic region. Astoria is the oldest American settlement west of the Rockies. A New Yorker, John Jacob Astor, sent fur traders west to establish a trading post, and in 1811 Fort Astoria was built. The site in downtown Astoria, still stands as a monument to this historic place where the Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean.

Well over 200 major shipwrecks have occurred near the mouth of the Columbia River near the Astoria/Warrenton area. As mentioned earlier, this area has been known for over a hundred years as "The Graveyard of the Pacific." One 1906 shipwreck, the Peter Iredale, is still visible on the beach at Fort Stevens State Park.

The 125 foot tall Astoria Column, (picture right) built in 1926, stands as a beacon at 600 feet above sea level, high atop Coxcomb Hill in Astoria. It is the only "large piece of memorial architecture made of reinforced concrete with a pictorial frieze in sgraffito technique" in the world! (See http://www.astoria-usa.com/astoria_column.shtml) Uniquely patterned after "the Trajan Column in Rome, the column depicts the amazing stories of: Captain Gray's discovery of the Columbia River, western migration,Northwest Territorial claims, and the Great Northern Railway arrival.

Countless visitors made the harrowing climb up the 184 cast iron spiral steps winding through the center of the column. The steps narrowed at the center and widening to the outside. I hiked this spiral staircase several times and I can tell you first hand that the climb was challenging!

The stairs led to a spectacular perch that circled the very top of the column and the magnificent 360 degree view made the scary climb worthwhile. It felt like you could see all the way south to Mexico and north to Canada! The trek winding around and around upward (the right side or wider outside steps) took great stamina, but the trek down on the narrow inside steps made me VERY nervous. Add a few hundred people going up and going down at the same time, and I can't imagine how the steps withstood the beating for as long as they did!

In 2007 the stairs were closed due to age and wear and tear. In June 2009, the top of the column was taken off and the old stairs were amazingly pulled up and out through the open top. I'm looking forward to trying out the new stairs.

The Oregon coast is a favorite movie location for film producers. The particular beauty and unique qualities of Astoria have been seen in movies such as, "Free Willy", "Free Willy II", "Into the Wild", "Short Circuit", "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III", "Goonies" and "Kindergarten Cop". John Jacob Astor Elementary School in Astoria was the location for a majority of the film "Kindergarten Cop" with Arnold Schwarzenegger.

There is plenty to do and see in Astoria, Oregon and whether you head north or south from there, you'll find the Oregon and Washington coastal beaches and towns welcoming and friendly. If you decide to go East, be sure to take the jog south down Interstate 5 and then head East through the Columbia River Gorge!

Deep River is a small river that runs into Grays Bay, off the Columbia River on the Washington shore. It is about two miles downstream from Grays River, which also empties into Grays Bay. The lower channel of Deep River is on average 8 feet deep and there are homes, private houseboats and docks along the inner channel.

(Picture: Working on the river.)

In 1875, Finnish emigrants settled in the area, calling their town Deep River, after the river. By the 1890s the logging community sported a post office, stores, a steamboat landing and a school but only the river landing pilings remain today.

As we left the Columbia, maneuvered through Grays Bay and entered Deep River, I got a sense of something out of Mark Twain. Little docks pointed their fingers into the quiet water. All kinds of boats snuggled up to them in secure safety.

Tall grass blanketed fields and little houses dotted both sides of shore. Mouths wide, fish jumped as bugs skittered across the glassy water. The Jenny G glided the river's curves like a knife spreading icing on a birthday cake.

Every so often log rafts, sometimes three and four rafts together, narrowed the river's width. The diamond shaped ends of the log rafts made perfect V shaped births. We chose a quiet little spot between two log rafts, tied off the bow and the stern and relished the peace.

Sleeping on a boat is the closest thing I can think of to sleeping as a baby in your mother's rocking arms. There's a gentle sway - an easy, almost hypnotic rise and fall, to and fro, a graceful dance of slumber-enticing rhythms.

The stress of the day's activities, the deep focused concentration of navigating sandbars and the over-abundance of fresh air and sunshine zapped our bodies and minds of every ounce of their strength.

By the time the stern & bow were tied securely, and pb&j sandwiches were devoured, the sun hid itself behind the hills that cradled Deep River.

I don't think I've slept any better than I did that night - before or since! We slept all night without stirring. Pirates could have fired their cannons, boarded the Jenny G., pillaged, plundered and set us adrift, we would never have even noticed.

By the time the first rays of the sun crept across the water toward us, we awoke, refreshed and rejuvenated. With a welcomed cup of coffee warming my fingers in the early morning chill, I headed for the stern to roll up the canvas.

The rear canvas was the hardest to roll as it had a big plastic window in it so I rolled up both sides first. Then I tackled the rear canvas. Once secure, I grabbed my coffee and stood to appreciate the brand new day. That's when I discovered, we were not alone!

Bobbing and dipping, a skillful operator maneuvered a little mini-tug back and forth just 50 feet from us. The little tug was about the size of a small fork-lift and reminded me of bumper cars at the county fair. The bow and sides were wrapped in rubber. As the tiny vessel tipped up and back, to and fro like a cork in water I was amazed to see he directed logs from one large log-raft into another smaller raft.

It was poetry in motion! The little tug operator knew exactly when to dip and when to turn. Like in a square dance, he do-si-doed forward, bouncing backward off the log spinning it expertly into place.

HB joined me at the stern and we watched in rapt amusement for over an hour. We enjoyed watching him so much, and laughed as his antics so hard I had tears in my eyes. We were doubled up in joy, envious of the fun he was having.

He finally noticed us watching him and he smiled and waved. He escorted a log as a jigsaw puzzle piece into the raft, and bounced his watery rig in our direction.

"Good Morning!" we all said at the same time!

We asked if we were in the way and if he needed us to move. He assured us we were just fine where we were and were not hindering his work. We shared our coffee with him and praised his fancy "footwork". It looked like so much fun!

He told us he did indeed enjoy his "work", and missed the "job" when he had to take weekends off. Now, to me, that is the perfect example of "when you enjoy your job, you'll never work a day in your life!"

We didn't see him again after that morning, but we will never forget the kind, friendly, happy Deep River worker and his fast and funny tug-dance with the logs.

We spent another three days in Deep River, heading out under the Astoria bridge during the day to fish, and then back again to our little log birth in Deep River for a good night's rest.

HB & I decided to spend the last day of our two-week honeymoon just fishing. We love to fish, especially for sturgeon. Sturgeon are huge fish! The delicate, boneless meat of one fish can feed HB and I for a long, long time. For this reason we try to catch one good "keeper" and then catch and release any others that happen to gobble up our bait and give us a good fight.

(Picture courtesy of Kevin Newell, Total Fisherman Guide Service, Check it out at www.totalfisherman.com - Thanks Kevin, see you on the river!)

Sturgeon are great fun to catch, taking patience and skill to hook (barb-less hooks, of course), and lots of stamina to reel to the boat. Once they get close enough to see the boat, (and the crazy people trying to pull them in), they kick it into high gear and head for deep water!

I've fought for over thirty minutes to get a sturgeon close to the boat, only to have him turn around and pull 3/4 of my line back out again. Now you just have to respect a fish like that!

My in-laws back east brag and send pictures of the bass they catch back there. I always love to tease them that the fish in their pictures look about the same size as our sturgeon bait! I've never been bass fishing but I bet they're fun to catch too. (I have to say that - - my sister-in-law might be reading this).

It seems like a lot of people love fishing on the Columbia because there were times when it felt like you could walk all the way across the river, stepping from boat to boat, and never get your feet wet. It always amazed us how the big cargo ships managed to weave their way up and down river without running into one of the many little fishing boats anchored off each side of the deep channel route!

Some people think sturgeon are strange looking. I've seen the green sturgeon in the Delta off of San Francisco Bay and I would agree that they are very different. But HB and I think the white Sturgeon of the Columbia River are absolutely beautiful. They have a silvery color, a graceful tail - and several rows of barbs along the long body. The sturgeon can free themselves by rolling and cutting fishing line with those barbs.

Sturgeon have changed little since the time of the dinosaurs. Referred to as "ancient survivors", they can weigh more than 1,500 pounds, grow to over 14 feet long and live to be well over 100 years old.

Biologists have studied the river salmon in detail but have spent far less time studying the populations and habits of sturgeon. Sturgeon are probably one of the most popular (in Oregon, at least), yet mysterious fish around.

Michael Parsley, a research fisheries biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey's Columbia River Research Laboratory in Cook, Washington says, "They're the woolly mammoth, the saber-tooth tiger or the lion of the Columbia River." Parsley said. "There's just still a lot to be learned about them."

(Above quoted from "Sturgeons' strange behavior at Bonneville Dam surprises biologists", Posted by Michael Milstein, The Oregonian May 15, 2008 19:37PM - Michael Milstein; michaelmilstein@news.oregonian.com)

Early in the morning of our last honeymoon day, we crept silently out of port and headed up river. The water wasn't nearly as choppy as it had been over the last two weeks but I still kept close watch for "floaters" (potential boat-sinking, floating logs). I did notice some things floating in the water, but they weren't logs. HB steered the boat toward them and we gasp at what we saw.

We couldn't believe our eyes. For thirty minutes we kept the prop running just fast enough to keep us from drifting down-stream. We counted 60 dead sturgeon, just floating past us -big sturgeon, little sturgeon, silently slipping by the Jenny G. It was a massive funeral flow of sorts - limp, still, lifeless bodies of beautiful white Sturgeon - once proud and noble, exciting, energetic, magnificent creatures, were now solemn, quiet, dead - with expressionless eyes staring at us as they floated downstream out of sight.

We couldn't help the tears that fell own our cheeks. How could this happen? Then we were outraged! Something upstream was killing these fish and we had to stop it! HB got on the marine radio (pre-cellphone days) and got the Coast Guard on the line. They had been in touch with the U.S. Wildlife authorities and said they thought they knew what had happened.

They said, it seemed, that some fishing nets,far up river, were left unattended overnight. The sturgeon had been caught up in the nets and had died. Unbelievable! We were SO angry - and SO sad. I've heard of tragedy on the high seas but this indeed was a tragedy of major proportions, on the Columbia River. The voice on the other end of the radio assured us that the nets were cleared and that there were still plenty of sturgeon in the river.

HB & I knelt together and said two prayers: a request for forgiveness for the carelessness of our species, and another prayer of thanks for the gift of all of God's magnificent creations. We'll never know how many more sturgeon were slowly carried downriver toward the open sea - but we just couldn't watch anymore.

HB and I decided not to drop our lines; enough fish had been taken from the river that day. In all reality, the sea lions, sea gulls and other meat eaters would not have to work hard for a good meal for once. We threw our bait out into the river and headed for port.

Although the memory of this day would never be erased from our minds, we still love to fish for sturgeon. I think now we are a little more appreciative of them, and we hope that other people are too.

We scrubbed up the Jenny G, packed up our dirty laundry and headed for home to continue our new life together as husband and wife.

I've only touched on a few highlights of our times on the Columbia River. We have lots of fishing and river stories to tell our grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren for years to come.

(Picture: Wind surfers take advantage of high winds in the Columbia River Gorge.)

In good times we cruised up and down the Columbia, tying to log booms, anchoring off the deep channel, snuggled in some tributary somewhere swimming, catching/releasing fish, relaxing or just basking in the peace and tranquility of river life.

In bad times, we sold the Jenny G. and fished off the mighty Columbia's banks from lawn chairs. We've rowed our baited lines out to the middle and rowed back to fish off the bank. We've chartered boats, we've borrowed boats, and we've visited our favorite places along her shore. She just keeps drawing us back to her - over and over again.

HB and I are just two drops in the bucket when it comes to the number of people who live, love and work on the Columbia. Everyone we meet on the river has had extraordinary experiences to share! For us, I can truly say we have lived life to the fullest on the Columbia River.

There are many spectacular things to do and see in the great Pacific Northwest. I hope you have the good fortune to experience the beauty, fun and excitement that is available for all to enjoy on the Columbia River.

Oh, and by the way, just to set the record straight, it really does get foggy on the Columbia River - and the huge ships in the deep channel really do blow their fog horns! But then, that's a story for another lens . . .