Astoria Oregon and the Columbia River

On a recent family visit to Oregon, we drove from Portland to Astoria along the scenic East Columbia River Highway. It was a beautiful morning, but the surrounding place names, such as Dismal Nitch and Gnat Creek, belied the sunny skies. Turns out that Astoria is the third wettest city in the United States with an average precipitation of almost 70 inches a year. (The leader is Hilo, Hawaii with 128 inches followed by Quillayute, Washington with 104 inches.) Summer in Astoria is beautiful, however, since most of its rain falls in late autumn and winter. 

Lewis and Clark and their Corps of Discovery found that out when they spent the winter of 1805-1806 in what is now Astoria. Nearing the end of their 4,000 mile journey of exploration of the North American continent, the Corps was in dire need of supplies. They raced down the Columbia River toward the mouth, hoping to meet one of the last trading ships of the season, but an early winter storm forced them off the river and into a cove where they spent six wet, miserable days. As fierce winds blew and monstrous waves pounded the steep and rocky shoreline, Clark feared that the expedition would founder just a few miles from its destination of the Pacific Ocean. "A feeling person would be distressed by our situation," he wrote in his journal, trapped in "that dismal little nitch."   

The group survived. They missed the trading ship, but with the guidance and help of the local Clatsop Indian tribe, they built a winter camp near present-day Astoria, which they named Fort Clatsop. The Corps spent 100 days at the Fort, only 12 of them without rain.

This year marks the 200th anniversary of the founding of Astoria in 1811. During that time, the livelihood of the town has come from fur trading, shipping, fish canning and now tourism. A friendly guide in the Heritage Museum told us we needed seven full days to see all Astoria has to offer. I don't know if she is correct, but I do now that two days was not nearly enough to visit all the parks, beaches, hiking trails, historical sites, museums, markets and restaurants in Astoria and nearby Warrenton. (Click here to visit the Astoria/Warrenton Official Visitor Information page. You'll find everything you need for your stay, including a great piece,"Fun in the Rain," that will make you want to seek out Astoria on a stormy day.)

Our first morning was spent outdoors, walking along the estuary of the Columbia River. Dams and locks have significantly tamed the once free-flowing 1,243 mile-long river, but the Columbia is still an awe-inspiring sight. We ate our picnic lunch near a picturesque abandoned cannery, one of about 30 that once lined the Columbia and made Astoria the salmon-packing capital of the Northwest.

  

On November 7, 1805, the Corps of Discovery arrived not far from our lunch spot. They were still 20 miles from the sea, but Clark mistook the mighty estuary for the Pacific. "Ocian in view! O! the joy," he wrote in his journal. Soon after, the storm rolled in that would maroon the party at Dismal Nitch. Another three weeks would pass before they actually saw the Pacific.

The ships that Lewis and Clark hoped to encounter in 1805 were engaged in trade, with routes between the Northwest territory, the Orient and the United States. To enter the river, these ships had to cross the notorious Columbia River Bar, a series of shoals and sand bars that since 1792 has been the graveyard for approximately 2,000 large ships. The Bar is just as dangerous today, but modern ocean-going vessels have the help of specially-trained bar pilots, who board the ships and navigate them through the restricted channels of the Columbia and over the Bar to and from the sea.

As we walked along the river, we watched bright yellow pilot boats pull alongside immense tankers to deliver or pick up bar pilots, who, each year, guide about 3,600 vessels, carrying 40 million tons of cargo. 

In the afternoon, we visited nearby Fort Stevens State Park for a hike along the ocean, some birdwatching and a close-up look at the mouth of the Columbia and the infamous bar. The seas were calm and we watched as pleasure boats easily crossed the bar. Further down the shore, however, was a beached and swamped sailboat, a reminder of the dangers of rougher seas.

We had planned to camp at the park, but Fort Stevens was booked solid. Cancellations were a possibility, but not until later in the evening. Fortunately while waiting for our dinner table at the wonderful Columbian Cafe in downtown Astoria, we wandered into the Voodoo Room, the bar next door to the Cafe, where the friendly bartender told us about some little-known campsites near Gnat Creek, about 14 miles east of town. Darkness was approaching as we drove up a steep, overgrown dirt road. Just as we were getting uneasy, the road ended at a perfect, flat campsite surrounded by a cathedral of spruce trees. We set up our tents and climbed inside just as darkness fell.  

We awoke to a Lewis and Clark kind of morning, with the rain making a low patter overhead. We rolled up our wet tents and made coffee and oatmeal huddled under the raised hatchback of our car.  

By the time we got back to Astoria, the sun had returned. We walked about the town, looking at the old Victorian houses, sea views, distant hills and mountains.  We had lunch at the Bowpicker - an old fishing boat converted into a take-out restaurant, where the only thing on the menu is fish and chips. The fish is albacore tuna and the line is long, but worth the wait. In the afternoon, we visited the Columbia River Maritime Museum, a fun and interesting place with well-curated exhibits.

Our last stop was a fish market in nearby Warrenton, where we picked up an freshly-caught albacore tuna that we had ordered the day before. We drove back to Portland and by 9 p.m., sat down with family and friends to a dinner of Stephanie's cold cucumber/avocado soup, Matt's marinated, flash-seared tuna and Erin's fresh, sauteed garden vegetables. 

O! the joy!

(The recipe for Steph's "Avocado Soup with Herbs, Slivered Radishes and  Pistachios is from her favorite soup cookbook, "Vegetable Soups from Deborah Madison's Kitchen."  Click here for a copy of the recipe.)

To see more photos, click here.

Until next time,

Geraldine

Photos unless otherwise noted by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor 

Oregon

CRABBING ON THE OREGON COAST

On a recent visit to Portland, I went out one morning to get some coffee. As I walked down Hawthorne, not far from my son Matthew's house on the city's southeast side, people I had never seen before smiled and stopped to invite me pet their dogs. It's probably just me and my East Coast upbringing, but sometimes his neighborhood seems just a tad too friendly, especially so early in the morning. When the perky young woman in the coffee shop told me to "have a nice life," I knew it was time to get out of Dodge.  

Fortunately, a trip was already planned to Netarts Bay on Oregon's magnificent Pacific Coast. The prey was Metacarcinus magister or Dungeness Crabs - big, sweet, succulent crustaceans that are found all along the Pacific Coast from Alaska to California. The crab's common name comes from the town of Dungeness on Washington's Olympic Peninsula, where the first commercial fishery on the West Coast opened in 1848. The Washington town was given its name in 1792 by British explorer George Vancouver because it reminded him of a point on the English coast near the Strait of Dover. Dungeness is an Old Norse word meaning "headland."  

Friends Paul and Kris, accompanied by Kris' dog Leon, left Portland early to launch the boat and set the traps. Matthew, Erin, Stephanie and I followed at a more leisurely pace, enjoying the drive through the Coast Mountain Range, which is covered by temperate rain forests dripping moisture and moss. The coast itself is a sliver of rocky volcanic land between the mountains and the sea.

Netarts Bay is less well-known than nearby Nehalem or Tillamook bays, but archeological studies show that native people have been catching crabs in its water since the late-Holocene era. Like us, their base was the Netarts Sand Spit, which forms the bay and protects it from the Pacific Ocean. The Spit also provides a close-up view of the massive, basalt sea stacks known as the Three Arch Rocks. The Spit can be reached on foot via a four-mile path or, as we did, by a short boat ride across the bay.

The five collapsible baited crab rings marked by floats were all set out by the time we arrived. I was given the honor of pulling in the first catch. As the boat was maneuvered over the rings, I began pulling, gently at first to remove the slack in the rope and not scare away the crabs and then rapidly to get the crabs into the boat before they escaped. All male crabs bigger than 5 3/4 inches are keepers and can be dumped into the bucket. If a crab gets away, you have to grab him from behind so he can't bite. We learned firsthand, however, that some of the big ones can reach around and latch on to a finger pretty tenaciously. 

There were a couple of other crabbing boats, but our main competition came from harbor seals interested in the salmon carcasses we used for bait. They arrived in groups, circling the floats and then diving gracefully searching for dinner. 

After a day of pulling traps in the fresh ocean air, dinner sounded like a good idea. By late afternoon, we had 22 Dungeness crabs and two dozen butter clams that Paul dug up at low tide. Best of all, a rented house was waiting for us just up the road in Oceanside. Stephanie found it, as she likes to say, on the Worldwide Web. It had a view of the Pacific and was a great buy at just $120 a night.  

We set the pot to boil and as the sun set (just before the rains came), the champagne was opened and we began feasting on some of the best, sweetest crab meat I've ever tasted.

For a Northwest crab cake recipe, click here.

To see more photos, click here.

Cheers,

Geraldine





Photos (unless otherwise noted) by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor

Oregon

Portland Oregon and The Deschutes River

Portland, Oregon is a city we love to visit (and not just because our son lives there). It's got everything we look for in a city: art, music and theater; good restaurants and nightlife; a reliable transportation system; lots of green space; good proximity to outdoor sports and Powell's, the best book store in America.

On a clear day, it's also got a fantastic view of Mt. Hood. True, a clear day is rare in the rainy Portland winters as early settlers learned to their dismay. Their journey along the Oregon Trail usually began in Missouri in late April or early May and they arrived in Oregon months later at the height of the rainy season. In summer, however, Oregon looks like the promised land - a place where the sun shines almost every day and the temperatures are usually in the 70s and 80s.

This year, however, when we arrived for our August visit, a topsy-turvy Jet Stream had transformed the normally balmy Northwest into an inferno. With daytime temperatures reaching 106 degrees (and air-conditioning the exception rather than the rule), there was only one sensible thing to do: get out of town and head for the river.

As word of our trip spread, we were joined by seven of our son's friends, who easily convinced themselves of the wisdom of our decision. Our flotilla included a drift boat, a big inflatable raft, a small inflatable kayak and a canoe.

We packed up the boats, food, water, camping gear and two dogs and set out for a five-day float down the Deschutes River. To get to the river, we drove about two hours east on Route 80, which cuts through the beautiful Columbia River Gorge.

In 1805, the explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark passed this way and in his journal, Capt. Clark described the Indian villages which lined the Gorge and the "bad rapids" at the mouth of the Deschutes River. Today these Native American villages are gone and the rapids have disappeared under Lake Celilo, a reservoir formed when the Dalles Dam was constructed in 1957. The Gorge, however, is still breathtakingly beautiful, with high steep cliffs cut by the now diminished, but still mighty, Columbia River.

The Deschutes, a Federal Wild and Scenic River, is a big wide Western stream, passing through an arid desert landscape of high basalt cliffs formed more than 15 million years ago. The fishing is usually great and there are rocky, turbulent Class III rapids to enliven the long, languorous afternoons.

We put in at Buckhollow, just below Sherars Falls, whose 15 foot vertical drop, makes them impassable by boat. Our destination was Heritage Landing - a journey of 43 river miles and 14 rapids.

It was just as hot on the river as in town, but the tumultuous waves of the rapids kept us cool and we stopped often to swim and fish. The Deschutes is one of the West's best trout fishing rivers, but this trip, the fish seemed too hot to be bothered. Several experienced anglers couldn't even come up with a story about the "big one" that got away. We were able to produce only enough fish for one dinner - delicious rainbow trout that we grilled on our camping stove.

Campfires are not allowed because of the dry landscape. Instead, at night we sat by the river watching falling stars. At Harris Ranch, where the cliffs rise hundreds of feet above the river that formed them millions of years ago, nature has sculpted formations that resemble huge elephants. Illuminated by a full moon, they seemed to march across the dark-red canyon walls.

The next day we trooped up a riverside trail to the original Harris Ranch, a once-thriving, but now abandoned cattle spread. The ranch house, in its decay, is oddly beautiful and a rusty iron cooking stove in the old kitchen attests to a different time and way of living.

Our last half-day was the most exciting of all. We shot four Class III rapids in the final seven miles and like the Lewis and Clark party referring to rapids on the Columbia River, "we went on verry [sic] well, notwithstanding the horrid appearance of this - agitated gut swelling, boiling & whorling in every direction."

To see photos of our trip, click here.

Until next time,

Geraldine

Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor

Oregon