Along the river

A few days ago, my friend John Harland and I motored through the Columbia River Gorge on my mini tug, Lizzie G.  In the Pacific Northwest and perhaps elsewhere there used to be a tradition of naming commercial tug boats for the patriarchs and matriarchs of the tug owner’s family.  Lizzie G is named for my mother Elizabeth Gibbs, although the only person who called her Lizzie was my father. My parents would be 112 and 114 today if still alive, but I think of them both when I am on the boat. My father loved boats, my mother not so much.

Near the western end of the Gorge along the Washington shore is Cape Horn, a spectacular collection of basalt columns clumped together and rising hundreds of feet from the water. Lewis and Clark passed by these towering rocks on November 2, 1805. “… S. 47° W. 12 miles to a Stard. point of rocks of a high clift of black rocks …” [Clark, November 2, 1805, first draft] 

When the water level in the river is low in summer, a lacy pattern of erosion is revealed at the base of the rocks.

As we travel further east, we encounter a series of waterfalls that are spectacular in winter and spring but now mostly depleted by the lack of rainfall this summer. Now only the giant Multnomah Falls is easily visible from the river.

When we finally reach Beacon Rock, the temperature is above 90 degrees, so we put off our climb to the top until the next morning. I have written previously about Beacon Rock, one of my favorite places in the world.  With our cool, early morning start the next day, we avoid the crowds of hikers and at times feel that we almost have it to ourselves.

From near the top, we can look down on the Lizzie G at the end of the dock, dwarfed by two larger boats. With a telephoto lens it looks quite near, as though the photo was taken by a drone flying overhead. In fact we are about 800 ft above it as the crow flies and 1¾ miles by trail.

Getting out on a boat, catching up with friends, and hiking on mountain trails, what better emotional therapy can there be?