Today, spent on the water, was possibly my favorite day. I was outside as much as the hot day allowed enjoying the beautiful scenery and the pin-drop silence of our surroundings. The low rolling hills looked like honey-colored velvet from a distance and the clouds continuously morphed into interesting shapes. We passed a few grain silos, could see long trains in the distance, and went through four dams that took us up an additional 400 feet. Each dam had a special system that assisted baby salmon headed downstream. I enjoyed two cookie breaks, read, chatted with Zoe and the cook at the grill, and when I couldn’t put it off any longer, I reluctantly packed.

This afternoon’s lecture was a perfect compliment to this evening’s entertainment: the Nez Perce. The lecturer told the disheartening story of the 1855 treaty that forced all Indians in this area onto large reservations. Things deteriorated further for the Indians, custodians of the land for millennia, when the Gold Rush continued to bring uncontrolled numbers of bound-and-determined prospectors to the area and the government took away 90% of the reservation that had been guaranteed by the treaty! Cindy explained all of this to us as well as the role that Chief Joseph, an eloquent speaker and writer, played in trying to broker an awareness and sensitivity on the part of white citizens to the plight of their fellow citizens, Indians. No happy ending there.

On the flip side, our entertainment tonight was uplifting. Maurice “Pistol Pete” Wilson, an Indian dressed in beautiful traditional garb, introduced himself, spoke briefly about the pride Indians have in their heritage, and highlighted his pride in having served in the Navy. He then honored a veteran in the group with an Indian blessing. Pistol Pete passed the mic to a young Nez Perce woman dressed in traditional Indian regalia who explained her beautiful outfit. Her dress was made out of two 75-year-old bighorn sheep hides; her necklace and other adornments incorporated numerous porcupine quills; her woven hat looked like a basket turned upside down on her head; her striking moccasins were heavily beaded; and her beautifully beaded bag, 58 years old, was passed from her grandmother to her mother and is now in her care. She danced for us and spoke of the hope she has for the future of all Indian tribes. It was the perfect end to the official part of the cruise.

By bedtime we were tied up in Clarkston, our final destination, but slept onboard.

… For What Its Worth …

The Snake, 1,078 miles long, is the largest tributary of the Columbia River.

Oregon is now home to nine federally recognized tribal nations, plus several unrecognized tribes.

Eight tribes own casinos in Oregon. 

Clarkston is named for Clark of the famous and oft-mentioned expedition.

We are now at a beautifully landscaped dock slash public park 200 miles inland at the confluence of the Yakima and Columbia Rivers. Like many of our stops on the cruise, we are 200+ years behind Lewis and Clark and Sacagawea, the Indian wife of their French Canadian, fur trapper interpreter. We enjoyed the small interpretive center and public park named in her honor. It is on the site where the expedition camped in October of 1805 and again on their return trip in 1806. We learned that she crammed a lot of living into a short life. Born into a Shoshoni chief’s family in Idaho, she was kidnapped by Hidatsa Indians and taken to North Dakota where she was given the name we know her by today, purchased along with another captive to be one of the fur trapper’s wives, and then chosen to accompany the expedition because she would be useful when the group traveled through Shoshoni territory. Sacagawea, a brand new mom, was estimated to have been about 16 at the time. #indispensible.

Although we are very close to being museum-ed out, our FOMO took over and we went to yet another one: the beautifully designed REACH Museum. We were not sorry. We strolled through the Native American gallery pretty fast because of the other things we had seen; learned a lot about the Ice Age floods that created the landscape we marvel at today; saw a baby wholly mammoth skeleton and an adult mammoth’s tuck and molars; pretended to comprehend the intricacies of hydropower in the Columbia Basin; appreciated the ingenuity and artistry of the Solar Stage with its two arches that are perfectly placed to cast precise shadows on the summer and winter solstices; and were flummoxed by the fountain made out of an old fuel cell assembly.

So, what did fascinate us: Richland’s role in the Manhattan Project. The CliffsNotes go something like this. Richland was a small farm town when the army purchased 640 square miles of land in the summer of 1943. Three hundred locals were evicted and a federally sponsored planned community called Hanford Camp was created for construction workers, scientists, support staff, and their families. First came tents, then barracks, then homes and community buildings like theaters, schools, churches, a swimming pool, and baseball field. At its height there were 1,200 buildings and 50,000 people living and working there. It had bragging rights for having the largest general delivery post office in the world and it was the largest voting precinct in the U.S. It had a bit of Old West flavor with more than its fair share of drunkenness, gambling, and prostitution as well as loneliness and homesickness. The real purpose of the work being done here was top secret, so counter-intelligence agents kept tabs on residents, background checks were done, local police had keys for every house, photographs had to be approved, phone lines were tapped, and outgoing mail was checked.

By early 1945, a mere two years later, all the reactors, separation plants, roads, and railroads were built and functioning and there was no need for all the folks that the construction phase demanded. By that time all permanent party and their families lived in Richland, so just like that Hanford Camp was quickly and completely dismantled! The scientists succeeded in their mission to produce plutonium, atomic bombs were dropped on Japan, and the war ended. But Richland did not dry up and blow away like Hanford Camp, it continued to be a center of production and research into nuclear energy and related technology through the Cold War and Korean Conflict. In fact operations did not cease at the complex until 1990.

The museum has a bus and a trailer on display. The refurbished 1954 GMC bus was used to transport Hanford workers to the work site and is fully functional today. The 1947 Vagabond Trailer was designed for luxury camping but was used as a 137-square-feet home. There were 3,600 trailers organized into the world’s largest trailer camp. It would be pretty tight quarters for, on average, 3.7 people with a living room, kitchen, and one bedroom. A combo laundry/bathhouse was provided for every 30 trailers as well as a meeting /party/gathering place.

We were back on the boat in time for cookies and the afternoon lecture on foods of the Northwest. Cindy, our resident lecturer, covered the expected berries, fish, and cherries but moved on to fun products like liquors we have never heard of, Tater Tots, SpoKandy, Harry and David, Oberto, Aplets & Cotlets, and Brown & Haley. At the end of her presentation we helped ourselves to as many samples of as many treats as we wanted. A just reward for attempting to understand nuclear reactors and for persevering in 102 degree heat.

.… Really? … Really.

Check YouTube for funny Oberto jerky commercials.

Richland High School’s sports teams are called the Bombers; their logo is a mushroom cloud.

Richland is home to both the largest refrigerated warehouse and the largest automated freezer on earth.

The Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory (LIGO) is the world’s largest gravitational wave observatory. One of LIGO’s two gigantic laser interferometers is located right up the road in Hanford.

It’s no surprise that waste management is a challenges here.
It’s actually the largest environmental cleanup in the U.S.

Today was a little different. Not only were we headed for a 98 degree day, we chose to leave the boat when it stopped briefly in Umatilla and board a bus headed to Pendleton, home to woolen mills still making their famous blankets and the Pendleton Round-Up. We drove past water intensive crops like potatoes, alfalfa, hay, and corn while near the water. As we drove further inland we noticed feed lots, World War II bunkers, wind farms, winter wheat, and corn fermenting in long white plastic tubes sealed until it was ready to be used as food for the cows.

Our first stop was at the pristine Pendleton Round-Up Stadium with the only grass field left in rodeo. To this day no advertisements are allowed in the arena that hosts 11 events in which cowboys and cowgirls from all over the United States and Canada compete once a year. The rodeo was the brainchild of local ranchers in 1910 and less cancellations in 1943, 1944, and 2020 it has been held every year since. Today it brings roughly 50,000 people to the city.

We learned of the sad but predictable outcome of the 1911 world championship bronc riding event where three men competed for the top spot. George Fletcher, deputy sheriff, horse breeder, and an adoptee into the local Indian tribe, was the first Black to compete in a championship rodeo. He went up against a white competitor whose name was not mentioned and Jackson Sundown, an Indian horseman from a Montana reservation and a ferocious competitor. The color barrier, being as prevalent in sports as elsewhere at the time, dictated that the white rider be declared the winner of the big money and silver saddle in spite of a massive uproar from the spectators. Thankfully there are two uplifting sidebars to the story. Number one: George’s hat was cut into pieces and sold to the enthusiast and supportive crowd, the proceeds from which got him more money than he would have gotten had he won. In 1969 he became one of ten people inducted into the first class of the Pendleton Round-Up Hall of Fame and in 2001 he was inducted into the National Cowboy Hall of Fame. Number two: In 1916 Jackson Sundown, 53 (!!!) years old at the time, became the first and only full-blood American Indian to win a professional rodeo world championship. He got the prize money and the coveted silver saddle.

With Let ‘Er Buck, short for bring on the bronco and let her buck, on our lips we changed it up completely and went from rodeo to Indian customs and culture at the very impressive Tamastslikt Cultural Institute. Westward expansion from the perspective of indigenous people is explored in the only tribally-owned interpretive center on both the Lewis & Clark and Oregon National Historic Trails. Lengthy introductory remarks were made by a local elder who dressed the part and captivated us with his attitude about the past, hope for the future, and explanations of traditional ways and beliefs. We learned about the ‘seasonal round’ which is a guide to what Mother Nature brings forth by month and season and Indians’ reverence for the natural world, ceremony, and kinship. The museum had beautiful exhibits highlighting everything from beadwork to basketmaking to furs and skins.

We were ready for lunch when the time came and Hamley Steakhouse did not disappoint. It is currently owned by the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation. The food was good but what really captured our imaginations were the huge tiffany ceiling lamp, long horned steer trophy, 18th century mahogany bar taken from a building in Atlanta, and the teller windows from a First National Bank that was robbed back in the day by Butch Cassidy! Or was it Billy the Kid?

Like other boomtowns off the beaten path, Pendleton was one wild and crazy place back in the day with opium dens, 32 bars, and 18 bordellos…all in a four block radius! By 1953 all but one of the madams and their ladies were relocated. Stella Darby, however, was allowed to manage the Cozy Rooms until 1967! We saw her statue in the middle of town. Her popularity was due in part to her belief in educating her girls and encouraging them to aspire to a better life once they could afford it and had the skills.

Like elsewhere Chinese immigrants, many recruited to built the transcontinental railroad, were forced into Chinatowns. Pendleton’s flourished in spite of harsh treatment, racial prejudice, lack of advancement opportunity, and absolutely no chance of participating in mainstream society. Our last stop before heading to the boat was to visit what are referred to as the tunnels. They are actually a series of center city basements that are connected by doors, some secret and others obvious, to create a little underground world. Because Sun Downer Laws forbade Chinese from being on the streets after a certain hour, it is believed that they gathered there in the evenings. Some lived there. Others, like Hop Sing, operated businesses. In his case, a successful laundry for 30 years. Our tour took us through a labyrinth with each room decorated to show how the rooms were used over time. We saw Hop Sing’s laundry, a card room, ice cream parlor, saloon, meat market, duck pin bowling alley, and Chinese living quarters. We were surprised to hear that moth balls in small cotton pouches were tied to the heating pipes to disguise the smell of illegal liquor during prohibition. We also learned about the alert system when law enforcement was in the vicinity and the secret passage that got the drinkers out of sight before the law arrived.

Sheep were plentiful here in the 1800s, so the raw material for a mill was at hand. Pendleton Woolen Mills made blankets for Indians forced onto reservations. We saw one that had four black slashes woven into it. Slashes indicated trade value. One pelt for one black slash. We had a quick stop at the mill on our way out of town for anyone wanting to purchase a blanket. Seconds and flawed items are available for those folks shopping for people they don’t really like.

Most folks dozed on the way to meet the boat, but I watched a short interview with former Marine, saddle maker, and leather braider Duff Severe. He has been recognized by the National Endowment for the Arts, the Smithsonian, and National Geographic Magazine. It was fun to picture this cute little man, who lived in a log house he built himself, posing for Wrangler Jeans, making a special rawhide cane for President Reagan, and attending President Clinton’s inauguration. To boot he was inducted into the Pendleton Round-Up Hall of Fame in 1992. When we were waiting for our tour of the basements to begin I enjoyed seeing a few of his miniature saddles that were on display.

Quite a day we’ve had! Long, full, but very interesting. We caught up to the boat, which had sailed on without us, right at dinner time. We went from the bus to the dining room without missing a beat.

… Oh Really … 

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was filmed here.

I just happen to be reading The Last Cowboy: A Pioneer Family in the New West
which is about a contemporary rodeo family in Utah.
Low and behold one (of seven) of the sons in the book is listed on the side of the arena
as the big winner at the Round-Up a few time in the last few years.

The Triple Nickles, the first all Black parachute infantry battalion, arrived in Pendleton in May 1945.
After training with the U.S. Forest Service they became the military’s first smokejumpers.
They deactivated balloon bombs, and put out wildfires.

A group of soldiers stationed in Pendleton comprised the 80-member Doolittle Raiders who bravely flew a one-way bombing mission to Tokyo in response to the Pearl Harbor attacks. 

Although we are only 80 miles east of Portland, it is like day and night. The landscape has transitioned from lush green to lots of green with a little brown to considerably more brown than green. The landscape reminds me of the Western Slope in Colorado. I wonder what awaits us upriver.

Every minute of every hour on the Columbia River so far has been peaceful and serene, even when we were tied up at the various docks. That is, until we got here. A six-lane highway runs right past the dock and is Very Noisy, in part, no doubt, because there is no vegetation barrier. The dock is within walking distance of town and we have wonderful views of Mount Hood and Mount Adams as small compensation. No quiet nap for me on the upper deck this afternoon.

Once known as the Gateway to the Inland Empire, The Dalles became a jumping-off spot for pioneers, soldiers, gold miners, trappers, and adventurers. The Oregon trail ended here. It became the Las Vegas of the Old West where living large and loose was all part of the vibrant, lawless atmosphere. As a throwback to those days, our tour bus was met by a costumed ‘floozie’ who gave us a warm welcome to her fine town and said there were plenty of women of questionable intent waiting to get acquainted with fine folk like us. The saloons of days gone by are hard to spot, but large red dots are on some second story windows marking where women known for their negotiable affection use to corrupt those passing through. French-Canadian fur trappers in the 1820s gave the town its unique name which is pronounced The Dal-z. Rhymes with gals. Lewis and Clark camped one night just out of town at what is now called Fort Rock. White men were lured West by the promise of 320 acres if they were single and 640 if married. There was no mention by our government of the fact that they were doling out land that had been the domain of local Indians for millennia.

Modern The Dalles, with a population of 16,000, is the land of maraschino cherries, a Google server farm, basalt retaining walls, biking, fishing, wineries, birding, and kiteboarding. We passed on all of those and chose to visit the Discovery Center which we thoroughly enjoyed. We spent most of our time learning about Lewis and Clark as well as the 30 men who went along on the expedition and became known as The Corps of Volunteers for the Northwest Discovery. We saw a large medicine chest like the two that accompanied the men and a huge clyster used to administer enemas! We learned that the group made camp 600 times in the 863 days they were gone and that on average, each man ate eight to nine pounds of meat A Day! A chart telling how many of each animal was consumed by the group ranged from 1,169 deer down to a single fox. It included the expected elk (392) and bison (259) as well as the unexpected dog (190), bear (28), horse (12), porcupine (5), and 20 other meat sources. The expedition encountered 50 Indian tribes, so we learned about gift exchange protocols and trade items. The exhibits made the lectures we had attended on board ship come alive.

The small Discovery Center highlighted the Oregon trail also and had a life-size mockup of a covered wagon on a raft. Its wheels were removed for the dangerous trip necessitated by the mountains that were smack dab in the way. The Columbia River, not yet damned, was a dangerous white water river back then, so count me out. Indian fishing platforms were explained with pictures to illustrate. We have seen them along the river already (as you know) and there are more here, but we left knowing how dangerous it was to construct them and how equally dangerous it was to fish from them. We learned about forts that were built to protect and assist pioneers coming West on the Oregon Trial. All that remains of the one built here in the 1850s are a couple of buildings that are now part of Fort Dalles Museum. This particular fort was put in place to keep the peace just in case the locals decided to take the side of the South in the Civil War. They didn’t and the fort eventually faded away.

Our attention did a 360 when we went from there to the National Neon Sign Museum. A short film explained how glass tubing is bent into interesting shapes, how the tubes are electrified, where the color comes from, and how to separate words, letters, and shapes in a sign. It was fascinating. A docent guided us through the museum and explained where this wild idea came from and how it changed advertising, branding, and signage forever. There is an impressive collection of old signs lit up which were doubly impressive now that we knew how complicated they were to make. Cleone and I were drawn to the Buster Brown sign in particular since we had recently visited Buster Brown’s grave in Hugo, OK.

It was an easy stroll through town, with one stop at the oldest bookstore in Oregon, to get to the boat where lunch was our first priority followed by a bit of downtime and a lecture on the medicines of Lewis and Clark.

From the sounds of it those guys, one gal, and a baby were lucky to have lived through their two-year ordeal. It was a common practice to ‘get the bad stuff out’ by blood letting and forced sweating, vomiting, and purging of the bowels. Medicine from all over the world consisted of live plants and herbals, mercury-infused tonics, spices, and opioids. Lewis and Clark had so much faith in the thunderclapper, a pill used to purge the bowels, that they left with 50 dozen of them! No thank you. There was no actual doctor in the group, so it was left to Lewis and Clark, as the leaders, to doctor those who fell ill from anything from venereal disease to poison ivy to malaria. It’s hard to believe that only one man died, and he fell ill early on before the going got rough.

We skipped happy hour and had an early dinner and later entertainment. Another wonderful, if noisy, day. Between dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow morning we’ll go through three more locks raising us an additional 273 feet.

…Trivia…

There is no sales tax in Oregon.

The first neon sign in the United States was orange and blue and spelled out PACKARD.
The year was 1923.

In 1984, The Dalles was the site of the first and single largest bioterrorism attack in U.S. history.
Hoping to incapacitate a significant number of the voting population in the upcoming election, followers of Rajneesh deliberately contaminated the salad bars at ten local restaurants with salmonella.
As a result 751 people got sick; 45 were hospitalized; none died.

The Indians living near The Dalles were forcibly relocated by the U.S. Army
to an Indian reservation elsewhere in the state.

Dutch Brothers coffee is from Oregon.

Situated at the confluence of the Hood and Columbia Rivers in the heart of the gorge sits the only city in Oregon where the consumption of alcohol on sidewalks and in parks is totally unrestricted. What used to be a trading post is now a thriving riverbank city of breweries, wineries, art galleries, and local crafts stores. Before we called it a day, we strolled in and out of stores on the seven-block stretch of historic buildings on Oak Street. Just out of town are thriving fruit orchards connected by a meandering road affectionately referred to as The Fruit Loop. Thirty miles south is the perpetually snowcapped Mount Hood. In fact as soon as I pulled back the curtains this morning I could see it in all its glory off in the distance.

Our main event for the day was a visit to the Western Antique Aeroplane and Automobile Museum (WAAAM). With more than a little reluctance, we decided to at least poke our heads in before we dismissed it completely. We ended up walking the entire 3.5 acres of well designed indoor displays. The big deal with this private-collection-turned-nonprofit museum is that all 350 of its collectables have been refurbished and are still driven or flown today including the oldest flying Boeing in the world. There was also a car show on the large front lawn where private owners shared their priced possessions. Walter was in his glory as the previous owner of a refurbished 1952 Ford truck. In the distance supervising all this was majestic Mount Adams shown to its best advantage in the bright sun.

I had the best nap this afternoon. As decoys, I brought a bottle of water, book, and sun hat to the upper deck. I set them aside and then laid down on one of the couches in the shade of a canopy. A soft breeze and the warm afternoon temperatures did their magic so well that I slept through the first half of the lecture on the Oregon Trail.

Speaking of soft breezes, if your preference is something more in line with WIND and you love river sports, then Hood River might be your cup of tea because it is the perfect place to windsurf. In fact it’s the windsurfing capital of the world! From our balcony we could see at least 60 daredevils (known as boardheads) enjoying themselves.

During dinner we continued east and almost immediately noticed the change in the landscape: shorter trees, fewer trees, more brown, and it was easier to see the train that parallels the river. No doubt the temperatures will reflect these changes in the coming days.

… In Case You Were Wondering …

Mount Adams has not had a major eruption in 1,400 years.

Hood River County leads the world in Anjou pear production.

The Oregon Trail is considered responsible for one of the greatest migrations in history
not caused by war. It is credited with the settlement of the Pacific Northwest
which helped determine that Washington and Oregon would not belong to Great Britain.

We woke up to the sad news that Ross, father of three of my nieces and nephews and a friend for 59 years, died of cancer early this morning. Eerie timing for me because I texted him a couple days ago telling him he would enjoy this part of the country because of his love for all things western.

His death came as a surprise and cast a soft shadow over the warm, breezy, beautiful day ahead. After reaching out to family with our condolences and to mutual friends with the sad news we took on the day, as planned.

Multnomah Falls, our main attraction today, is the tallest waterfall in Oregon and the second tallest year-round waterfall in the United States. We saw it from the river yesterday and up close today. Plummeting 620 feet, in two different sections, Multnomah Falls is the most-visited natural recreation site in the Pacific Northwest. It is considerably more impressive up close than from the water. The lush green of the natural landscape and sheer mountains show it off nicely. I especially liked the moss covered trees. Unlike Spanish moss, this variety clings to the tree trunks as well as the branches.

We drove over the Bridge of the Gods to get to the falls. In Lewis and Clark’s day the toll was $0.02 and today it is $3.00. We looked down from the bridge to see small platforms that look like tiny docks where Indians have exclusive rights to fish anytime of the year. Speaking of fishing, I watched a fisherman in a small boat pulling in gill nets with a special drum built onto the deck of his boat. A fellow passenger did a great job of explaining the while process to me.

We shopped the tiny berg of Stevenson, enjoyed watching numerous kiteboarders having a blast on the river, and poked our heads in the Skunk Brothers Moonshine Distillery before calling it a day.

In memory of Ross, Dan found a pilsner named Roger’s which he enjoyed during happy hour. Ross lived in the small city of Rogers in Northwest Arkansas for a few years, died there, and still has family there. Cleone and Walter met Ross through us, so we toasted him over dinner and shared fun memories.

Back in the room for a quick break before the entertainment started, we were surprised with a cute tray of sweet treats with a Happy Retirement greeting written in chocolate! Another sweet surprise: Zoe, a cruise line employee I met last night when I was writing, brought me a glass of ice water and shared her love of writing poetry.

Entertainment: the resident piano player played lively, foot stomping Honky Tonk tunes.

Time to head further upriver through the gorge. I like to say it is, was, and will hopefully always be gorge-ous! (Get it?)

… Sidebars …

After one to seven years in the ocean, adult salmon return to the Columbia River and head for their home streams. Once there the females make nests in the clean gravel and deposit thousands of eggs.
Along come the males to fertilize the eggs.

For 300 years Spain, France, England, France, and Russia competed with the United States
for what is now Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and parts of Montana and Wyoming.

Japan released 9,000 balloon bombs into the jet stream during WW II, each about 33 feet in diameter.
The hope was they would land in the United States, start forest fires, and cause panic.
The only one that claimed lives landed in Oregon killing a woman and five children.

Dan and Cleone discovered that ice cream bars of various kinds are available throughout the day.
This could be their downfall.

Now tell me this isn’t a crying shame: I beat Walter up, a shock because he is always first on his feet. We could have slept until noon, but by 7:00 I was up, dressed, and having coffee and breakfast: smoked salmon on a toasted bagel. Not the slippery kind but the dry yummy kind.

Today was special because we began our cruise, slowly but surely, through the 85-mile-long Columbia River Gorge, the largest Federally Protected Scenic Area in the country. Because we are going upriver, Washington is to our left and Oregon to our right. We saw the first of 14 major peaks and cinder cones that form the Cascade Range including Mount Hood that clocks in at 11,245 feet and Mount Adams, a show off at 12,276 feet. The western gorge, with 75 plus or minus inches of rain a year, is lush and green with misty mountains, old growth forests, and more than 40 waterfalls. In contrasts, the eastern gorge is a region of rocky bluffs, rolling hills, desert wildflowers, and wide open spaces thanks to its mere 15 inches of precipitation.

The day passed quickly as we glided upriver. My favorite part besides the abundance of beautiful green in every direction and one waterfall after the next was how quiet it is. The warm sun popped in and out of the clouds which was perfect after the cool temps of the last couple days. We saw our first draw bridge; it does not go up and down, but opens and shuts like a door. We were alone on the water less a couple of sail boats, an empty barge, and one lone windsurfer.

This afternoon’s lectures were on the geology of the river, very well done but a tad out of my sphere of interest, and the expedition of Lewis and Clark which reinforced what we have already learned about the of the significance of the expedition.

We stopped for the night just past Bonneville Lock and Dam, the first dam built on the Columbia. It is 145 miles from Astoria and lifted us up 60 feet. One lock down…seven to go. They are all free of charge, by the way.

Tonight’s entertainment: Dave and Bo. They played requests, shared stories of the famous folks Bo has worked with, and closed with a salute to our military.

… Did You Know …

The gorge is home to Google, Tofurky, and Insitu.

You can drive the gorge on the Columbia River Highway if cruising is not your style.
At 100 years old, it is our first Scenic Byway!

Mt Hood is the highest point in Oregon …and… the second most climbed
glaciated mountain in the world after Mount Fuji.
Surprise: Dan and I hiked Mt. Fuji in the early 1970s. You bet cha.

At 1,200 miles, the Columbia River is the second longest river in North American.

Now that we are at the mouth of the river, we turned around and headed upstream stopping halfway back to Portland (where we stared). Incorporated in 1890, Kalama (Ku-lamb-uh) is served by the railroad, is one of the deepest points on the Columbia River, and is on Interstate 5 which gives it the advantage of being “where highway, rail, and water meet.” This is a plus for trade, tourism, adventure seekers, and scientists keen to better understand the volcano that permanently altered the landscape 42 years ago.

Sadly Mother Nature dropped the ball today. After an hour’s ride, a 45 minute stop at the Mount Saint Helens orientation center, and an additional hour’s ride … it was STILL foggy with clouds shrouding the object of our fascination. We traveled the only scenic byway in the United States that enters a volcanic blast zone. On the morning of May 18, 1980, after weeks of small tremors, 2,000 feet blew off the top of Mount Saint Helens when a magnitude 5.1 earthquake triggered an enormous eruption. Winds reached 670 miles per hour! Temperatures of 800 degrees scorched 234 square miles of forest. A dramatic end to 123 years of hibernation. Two new lakes were formed; mud flows wiped out everything in their paths; forests were striped naked. Today we saw an eco system rebuilding itself.

Eighty-three year old Harry Truman got a lot of press leading up to the eruption when he decided not to leave his lodge which was located in the red zone. Ultimately he become one of 57 people who lost their lives, some in the red zone and others outside of it. Books and movies have made him a folk hero.

We had a fabulous tour guide who did a great job of making sense of all things related to eruptions: the shifting of tectonic plates, the friction caused by these shifts, types of volcanos, steam, red zones, super-hearted air, calderas, ash clouds, pyroclastic flow, and so much more. He used the TV monitors on the bus to show us an excellent video and slides that illustrated his various points. He mentioned that Mount Saint Helens, one of 1,500 active volcanos on the earth’s surface, is the youngest volcano in the Ring of Fire.

Our drive took us past acres and acres of felled trees, mostly Douglas fir, in lumber yards near the river. An average annual rainfall of 46 inches is surely a plus in growing these impressively straight trees. We went through eruption-devastated areas which are into year 42 of their new normal as well as dense, lush unaffected forests, clear-cut areas, and replanted forests. From all indications, lumber remains king.

We were back on board in time for lunch; Dan and I ate in the dining room and W&C ate at the grill. Then we strolled the main (and basically only) street downtown, visited the small interpretive center, enjoyed seeing the giant lollipops around town announcing the Kalama Fair this weekend, took a look at the totem poles near the dock, and got a giggle out of the one-stop shop that functions as a laundromat, coffee shop, and deli.

This afternoon’s lecture centered on Seaman, Meriwether Lewis’ Newfoundland dog that accompanied the group on their expedition. From the sounds of it, he was a much-loved, hardworking member of the group. It is safe to say Dan and Walter slept through most of it, but I was interested to learn that Seaman was a terrific alarm system when bison and bear got too close to camp; he learned how to swim after beaver, squirrels, and young antelope and deer and bring them to shore for dinner; and thankfully he was retrieved after her was stolen.

We had just enough time to get cleaned up for cocktails which is where we met Melvin and Debra, retired farmers from South Dakota. We invited them to join us for dinner and really enjoyed their company. Now I want to explore eastern South Dakota in general and the Corn Palace in particular. Debra, an avid quilter, commented that she often orders half portions of a couple offering on the menu which inspired me to have crab cakes and duck. A great idea!

Frank Chase, our resident piano player, was on top of his game tonight and had us all stomping our feet, singing along, and laughing as he entertained us with favorites from New Orleans.

… Really? …

Why were beaver pelts so sought after?
They were traded in China where the fur was made into felt and then used in top hats.
No self respecting gentleman of any social prominence would be without one.

What pelt was the most sought after? Sea otter.
It has the densest fur in the world with one million hairs per square inch.

Kalama is named after a trusted, well respected Hawaiian who arrived in 1837 and decided to stay.
He later married the daughter of an Indian chief.

The movie Twilight was filmed here.

Almost half of Oregon’s population live in the Portland metropolitan area.

We woke to fog, chances of rain, cool temps, and soft breezes. It looked like the Northwest had decided to end our streak of perfect weather, but less some very light rain, we were not bothered at all. We put on a couple layers of clothes and headed off to breakfast before exploring this small city located on the south shore of the Columbia River—right where it flows into the Pacific Ocean. Get this: it was founded in 1811 and is the oldest city in the state of Oregon and the first American settlement west of the Rocky Mountains. News to me! It is now a charming city of about 11,000 people.

After a light breakfast we four headed to the 125 foot tall Astoria Column situated atop Coxcomb Hill on a 30-acre site. It is a combo monument and work of art in my opinion. Here’s the backstory: The president of the Great Northern Railroad erected a monument or historical marker at each of the 12 stops along the rail route from St. Paul, Minnesota, to Astoria. Either because he was out of clever ideas, money, or focus, he proposed having a flag installed on the hill and calling it a day. Enter the Astors again. Great grandson Vincent thought something imposing should be at the end of line, so he paid for the column which was completed in 1926. Easily the tallest thing in town, it is covered in painted and plaster-carved murals (a technique called sgraffito, a Renaissance art form) that spiral from the base to the top and tell the story of the natural riches of the Pacific Northwest; the people who lived, worked, and explored the area; and 22 significant historical events that took place between 1792 when the mouth of the river was discovered and the coming of the railroad in the 1880s.

We four took up the challenge and climbed the 164 steps and flew small balsa wood airplanes from the top. Dan won the aviation challenge with a long, graceful flight. The views were amazing.

It was no effort at all to get to the Columbia River Maritime Museum since it is located on the dock adjacent to the ship. It is fantastic, well laid out, and does a great job of describing the rich history of this area. Displays, text, and videos walked us through the importance of the fur trade; the value of maps (the oldest one in the museum is 460 [ ! ] years old) and how they improved over time; the science of storms; naval history; fishing and canning; and towing.

Ann and John had told us a bit about the bar and as it ends up it fascinated me the most. It is where the river meets the ocean. Sounds pretty standard, right? Add westerly winds to the lack of a river delta and then add the focused, fire-hose current of the river. Pile on unpredictable fog, shallow, shifting sandbars, and finally the waves, swells, and tide of the Pacific Ocean. It’s a recipe for anything from perfectly calm to instantly treacherous and deadly surface conditions. Here’s the bottom line: its nickname is the Graveyard of the Pacific! Three miles wide and six miles long, it is widely accepted as one of the most dangerous bar crossings in the world. It is estimated that 2,000 ships, large and small, have sunk and 700 people have lost their lives in and around the Columbia Bar since 1792! Solution: bar pilots. Earning in the high six figures, approximately 16 pilots guide ships across the bar, boarding ships by helicopter or specifically designed 73 foot high speed boats.

Besides the bar, I was amazed by the global scope of the fur trade. Once it became known that Chinese traders would pay enormous sums for sea otter pelts and good-to-great money for other pelts, a trading network was set up. It involved ships full of supplies and trade goods going from New York around the tip of South America up to Hawaii and then on to Astoria. Furs were exchanged for these items and then loaded onto ships bound for Canton, China. Furs were dropped off and beautiful things picked up for the trip around the tip of Africa to London. The loop was complete when European and Asian goods arrived back in New York. This went on for 70 years starting in the early 1800s.

We gave our brains a rest and enjoyed an el fresco lunch on board before venturing downtown (spitting distance from the dock) to wander the streets and stroll in and out of stores. The shopkeepers were all friendly and helpful and the whole area was clean with an interesting mixture of architecture popular in days gone by. The locals must have a good sense of humor because their rubbish bins are painted to look like giant cans of sea food. We walked past the first JC Penny and the first shoe store west of the Mississippi. Who knew? Astoria boasts the first post office west of the Mississippi also, but we did not see it. The city is built on a hill and is proud of its 70+ impressive Victorian homes, some of which were visible from downtown. We stopped to see the Nordic Heritage Park which honors the contributions of Scandinavians who came to work and decided to stay and make their homes here. It was surprising to see that whimsical gnomes were included in the park. There is a similar park honoring the very poorly treated, mistreated, and abused Chinese who made such a positive difference in the labor force here.

Our focus on the fireworks last night caused us to miss the fact that we are docked right next to a small Coast Guard Station. One of the two boats off our stern is 50-year-old Steadfast. This trusty cutter, still in use today, has completed 220 search and rescue cases, seized 1.6 million pounds of marijuana and 164,000 pounds of cocaine.

Our resident lecturer, a self proclaimed bird nerd, spoke on her favorite subject this afternoon. Walter attended while the rest of us took a walk (Dan), wrote (who, me?), napped (Cleone), and enjoyed the 3:00 PM cookie break. Before we knew it, it was time to clean up for cocktails, have dinner, and enjoy this evening’s entertainer, Stan Corlis, who performed pop, country, and what he calls roots rock & roll.

…Astoria Trivia…

The city is named for John Jacob Astor.

The Lewis and Clark Expedition spent the winter of 1805–1806 at Fort Clatsop, a small
log enclave southwest of town. Tempting had we had more time.

Thanks to the abundance of salmon, some weighing up to 80 pounds, Astoria
used to be the canning capitol of the world!

Winter storms at the bar can create waves as high as 40 feet tall!

Parts or all of fifty movies have been short in and around here. Think Goonies, Kindergarten Cop, Into the Wild, Free Willy, The Black Stallion, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III.

We planned our own pre-cruise adventure which we centered around two fun things: a reunion with Ann and John, old friends and our bowling partners in Japan in the early 1970s; and dinner with the son and future daughter-in-law, Pete and Rebecca, of our old friend Pat who we first met in Fort Lee, Virginia, right after we left Japan.

Ann and John met us at the airport the night of July 1, no small feat considering we arrived an hour and a half late into a zoo of a crowd at the airport, no doubt fellow July 4 travelers. Ann and John slept us, fed us, and showed us around the beautiful Portland area. They took us to three overlooks where we got beautiful views of the river we’d soon be cruising. The best part of the visit was looking at Ann’s photo albums of Japan, seeing their oriental keepsakes, and laughing and reminiscing about all the fun we had had all those years ago. One story lead to the next; one memory brought on another. Besides being bowling partners, Ann and I taught English as a second language at a Japanese junior college, substitute taught at the high school, and taught GIs basic skills at the Army’s education center on post. We have kept up via Christmas letters all these years with just one in-person visit when they came East some 25 or so years ago.

We met our traveling buddies, Walter and Cleone, and Pete and Rebecca in the hotel lobby at 4:00 for a drink the afternoon of the 3rd. Once Walter and Cleone’s old friends arrived to join them for dinner, they broke away and went to eat. We had never met Rebecca and had only met Pete three times before, so it was brave of them to accept our invitation. We had a nice dinner downtown and enjoyed hearing about how they met, their upcoming wedding, careers, future plans, and travels.

Today, July 4, was get-this-party-started day. We cruisers had all been in-processed at our Hayden Island hotel yesterday afternoon, so today it was just a matter of transferring to the vessel, American Cruise Line’s American Harmony, which involved walking out the side door of the hotel and right onto the vessel. Easy Peasy. Our room is large and bright with plenty of room to tuck away all our things. Walter and Cleone are right across the hall, so it will be effortless to coordinate and clarify plans.

We pushed off around 2:00 after a nice lunch in the dining room and then spent a relaxing afternoon with mandatory safety drills, a lecture on the Astorians, a briefing on tomorrow’s itinerary, cocktails, dinner, and entertainment (a tribute to Ray Charles). Sunshine, soft breezes, and gorgeous scenery were icing on the cake.

We docked in Astoria around 9:00 PM and waited for it to be dark enough for the fireworks that just happened to be organized on a barge right off the stern (back end) of our vessel! Talk about a memorable way to end the holiday weekend!

… Bits and Bobs …

Our vessel was launched in 2019, has 102 rooms, and a capacity of 190 passengers.
There are around 140 passengers this cruise.

Hayden Island is one of four main islands in the Portland metro area.

The Astorians, BTW, were the first fur traders to arrive in the Northwest.
John Jacob Astor, a German immigrant and America’s very first millionaire, sent two groups of clerks to the mouth of the Columbia River—one by sea and the other by land.
(Those traveling by sea got there first.)
Their efforts were the beginning of what would become the Pacific Fur Company.