A special moment to be on the Columbia
We were adrift on the waters of the Columbia, summer’s end nearing like the next bend, slowly coming into sight. I was attune to the river’s inherent wildness. I took note of the seasonal changes to occur, as, with any wild river, low water subsequent to the high.
I had a profound realization. In nearly 28 years of life, growing up downstream, I had, not once, seen the Columbia fluctuate in flow. Surely you have, you just never noticed! Well, most likely yes, but never in accordance with the seasons. The Columbia where I grew up changed when the dams decided it was time for a change, by the human hand. For the first time, I witnessed the seasonal fluctuation of the Columbia River. I thought it to be...Remarkable.
Noticing bends in the river, swaying around large gravel bars, and the waterways which we used to explore. It was all different. No longer could we paddle down the overgrown and narrow channel, sure to be stopped by a log jam. Reeds and grasses which we would gently skim over now stood two meters overhead. Wildlife, particularly beavers, escorted us downriver, tail slapping and creating sprays welcoming us to their home (Beavers definitely do not do this, but it’s a nice thought). The Columbia, for once, felt wild.
September 2nd, snow lingers in the alpine. The exposed bank displaying the water level fluctuation.
Sat face to face, tethered bow to bow and stern to stern, we floated the lazy Columbia. A salad containing assortments of fruits and vegetables was served as dinner, complemented by a small charcuterie. Washing down the exquisite cuisine was none other than “Alexander Keith’s: the original craft beer”, as I believe it is called.
Is there a finer way to experience such a unique area, passing through without a trace or trail, enjoying the company of friends both new and old? The recognition of wilderness leaves me noticing that I had never thought of the Columbia as wild. I am thankful to experience the sleepy untamed waterway. It is not far, perhaps a day's float, where the wild Columbia succumbs to the works of man, a wild river is tamed, a reservoir born, and the songs of motorboats replace that of the birds.