Journeys

Wind, water, fish & fruit
July 21, 2017

The title pretty much covers what it's about in the Columbia River gorge.

Wind & water: As the cool ocean air mass comes up the river and meets the warmer air heading down-gorge from inland, continual breezes move through the canyon, creating perfect conditions on the river for wind/water sports - a huge deal there.

Folks by the thousands descend on the Columbia thereabouts to play and compete at everything imaginable that involves wind and water together. Sailboats tack back & forth, kite boards propel their riders at dizzying speeds, windsurfing boards zoom in and around the others, while paddleboards and kayaks abound in the mix.

Truthfully, there were activities out there on the Columbia that I don't even know what they are. I have no idea how they all manage not to get tangled up with each other or to collide. Then again, maybe they don't avoid it, but we never saw any issues or conflicts.

It was fascinating to watch the activities and see the many types of sports. At one time, there were 440 kayaks racing, and we saw a sailboat race underway. Some of the kite surfers utilize detachable hydroplanes that allow them to actually fly the board above the water's surface - amazing!

People were not the only ones enjoying water sports.

Fruit . . .

Evidently, climatic conditions are primo for growing fruit thereabouts. There is a circuitous route known as the fruit loop and no, it does not refer to sweetened cereal. We drove a portion of it winding through mountainous terrain and following the courses of many rivers and streams to find ourselves at Montavon's farm. Raspberries were the impetus to entice us out there.

Shannon & Jim's nice garden whetted our appetite for that luscious cane berry, possibly my favorite food in the entire world. Strawberries are a close second; there is nothing more awesome than eating those berries right off the vine - sun warmed perfection.

The opportunity to pick our own fruit to put in the freezer for winter was too much to pass up. Admittedly, I got a tad carried away; our tiny RV freezer had to clear out some other things to make room, but by jumpin' jiminy, I didn't leave the gorge without raspberries.

It was quite amazing to look up from the neat cultivated rows to see Mt. Hood's snowy ridges.

The White House, blueberries, young people . . .

Okay, so then I kept thinking about the abundance of blueberries Columbia-side. During a stop at the Gorge White House for a tiny wine tasting, I picked blueberries: not as many (they are not my all-time favorite), but enough for a goodly number of blueberry muffins and pancakes come next winter.

A historic and beautiful building, the Dutch colonial house was built in 1908. The attraction for us, though, was its farm fields filled with orchards, vineyards, berries and flowers.

Seeing all that echinacea made me wonder how mine is faring back home . . .

. . . and they even had zinnias, my very favorite flower, which got me to wondering if the zinnias I seeded before I left have survived everything.

The colors of these gladiolas were stunning!

Our hostess at a mini-wine tasting was an engaging young woman by the name of Sarah. We quite enjoyed a chat with her. A long-time gorge resident, she had just graduated from university, working for the summer and headed to Salt Lake City to work as an EMT and eventually become a physician's assistant. Absolutely charming and focused on her goals, we loved conversing with her.

One of Sara's co-workers was another strong young woman. Lily's goal was to continue with soccer at university level and club soccer, although she said it was a little challenging to keep the club sport active with the small local population.

Bridging the Columbia . . .

With Oregon on one side of the gorge and Washington on the other, bridges are the connectors for surface traffic. One bridge at Hood River is about as narrow as it could be and still accommodate modern vehicles.

Below Cascade Locks, where we are staying, is the Bridge of the Gods, so called after a gigantic natural landslide that at one time dammed the river and provided a land passage for natives. When the Columbia finally flowed over that obstruction, it created a cascade that needed a lock to get ships past.

Now the Bonneville Dam has pooled the water enough that the lock is no longer needed nor used because the rapids are flooded. The drawbridges allow barge traffic is to travel up and down the river.

Bonneville dam . . .

We wandered through Bonneville dam, a very interesting site, and were able to see the giant power generators.

Salmon . . .

In our various wanders, we learned quite a bit about salmon that we hadn't known, some of which I wouldn't mind unlearning.

Fish ladders at all the dams on local rivers and streams allow salmon to swim upstream past the dams to spawn. In some way, the fish know their exact stream of origin and find their way back there from the Pacific Ocean to lay eggs and die. I didn't know about the dying part; they never live more than a few days past the time of spawning.

Because salmon are extremely reduced in numbers from historic times, government entities seek to maintain the species via controlled intervention.

At the hatcheries we visited, I was stunned to hear what those methods are. It goes something like this: The fish are going to die anyway, so they run them through a chemical bath that anesthetizes them, then through a machine that bonks them on the head to kill them. Then they cut the females open and wash away the blood before scooping out the millions of eggs. Next is extracting the milt from the males to wholesale fertilize the eggs.

Of course we wondered what then happens to the thousands and thousands of carcasses and I have to say I'm kinda sorry we asked. Seems that a certain rancher has a contract to obtain the dead fish. Because they have been chemicalized (if it's not a word, it should be), they can't be used for food or fertilizer (local Indians used to claim them for food prior to the chemical process being instituted). Seems he inoculates the carcasses with bluebottle blowfly eggs. When the resulting maggots transform into blowflies, he uses them for pollination in greenhouses because they are superior to bees for such use.

It was about then that my gag factor was full blown (pardon the expression). I guess if you don't want to know, you shouldn't ask. . .

As long as I'm on groaty subjects, I will share a photo of some of the gazillions of lamprey eels that attach themselves to surfaces along the salmon counting windows and I presume lots and lots of other places and on the fish themselves.

I think I answered my own question about the purpose of the center pieces in this fish ladder when I saw salmon resting there from their self-enforced climb.

Good folks and an unfortunate occurrence . . .

Over a good many years now, we have parked ourselves in an incredible range of RV parks, some scarcely even worth the name. In every single one without fail, we have encountered the best kind of folks and had nary a worry about our well-being nor about any of our belongings, so we decline to allow one incident to mar that sense of good even though it was disconcerting and disappointing.

The sad tale is thus: some bozo (I use the term charitably) turned his 5th wheel much too quickly and precipitously and caused its rear end to swing out and clip one of our boats that were on the camper rack, breaking its strap and nearly knocking it off the truck.

That would have been bad enough; however, when our across-the-road neighbor saw it happen and informed said bozo of the incident, he cared not a whit and didn't bother to inform us of the accident.

We wouldn't have known what occurred were it not for good neighbor Scott who told us. We obtained said bozo's name and phone number from the office; however, two days later, he has not returned our call.

On the good side, the strap broke instead of the boat and there was no damage to the truck. We had to drive to Hood River to purchase new straps, taking away fun time, but not world-ending.

On the even better side, it led to a developing friendship with Scott and his lady Cindi. We really hit it off with them when they spent the evening with us and hope to maintain contact. They are Washingtonians a month into full time RVing in their handsome class A diesel pusher - definitely good folks we might not have gotten to know if it were not for said bozo.