Saying goodbye to Lizzie G

I have loved boats all of my life.  When I was a small boy, my father and my great-uncle Fred taught me how to row and sail in a small dinghy.  I was in awe of Uncle Fred for a number of reasons including his service in the US Navy in both World War I and World War II. My family never owned a boat during my life, but my father and I would occasionally sail to Catalina Island with friends of his.  Later I spent several summers with my mother’s cousin Dick Stewart and his family on their small island near Sidney, B.C.  Cousin Dick was a boat broker, and he owned a variety of interesting power and sailboats over the years.  I think my favorite may have been a tugboat that was built in 1906 with steam power and later converted to a diesel-powered pleasure craft named Point Hope. This may have been my inspiration 15 years ago when I bought a 25 ft. mini-tug that I named Lizzie G after my mother, Elizabeth Gibbs. As I mentioned in a post last year, there used to be a tradition in the Pacific Northwest for naming working tugboats after a matriarch or patriarch of the family. Honestly, my mother was not a fan of boats, but my father loved them, and I caught that bug from him. I could have named my boat for him, but Zack G did not seem as mellifluous as Lizzie G.

Over the last fifteen years, I have explored the Columbia River west as far as the river’s mouth at Astoria, 95 miles away from Portland, and east as far as the Bonneville Dam, about 37 miles away. I’ve also taken the Willamette River through downtown Portland as far as the dam at Oregon City. Lately, as my Alzheimer’s disease has slowly progressed, it has become increasingly difficult to safely operate and maintain my beloved Lizzie G, so with some sadness and sense of loss, I have put her up for sale.

Last week, my friend John Harland and I took Lizzie G for one more trip to Beacon Rock. September has been hotter than usual, and we struggled a bit hiking to the top in the heat.  As always, the view from the top, 850 ft above the river was spectacular. What was striking this time was the shallowness of the river after an early snow melt and several months without rain.

Later, as we sat in the cockpit watching the setting sun light up the hills around us and sipping a beer, a solo canoer pulled up next to us at the dock. John Kraft is a young guy who has been canoeing by himself from St. Louis to Astoria, following the path of the Lewis and Clark expedition of 1805.

The next morning, John Harland and I took a lovely 1½ mile walk with zero elevation gain through fields and woods originally belonging to the farm next to Beacon Rock State Park.  The owners of the farm donated their land to the state of Washington, and it has made a very nice addition to the state park.  When we returned to the Lizzie G, John the canoe guy had left, still about six days out from his goal in Astoria.  About a half hour after we left the dock, we encountered him again, paddling down river with the current.

Soon we picked up our final escort on Lizzie G’s last trip, a sternwheeler taking tourists up and down the Columbia River.  I had never seen it before except when it was docked in Portland, but as it passed us it seemed to be paying a fitting tribute to a fine little boat.

Note:  I am aware of the press release yesterday of positive phase 3 trial results for lecanemab, an anti-amyloid monoclonal antibody that targets amyloid protofibrils. I am studying the press release as well as comments from experts in the field, and I will post on this important topic early next week.