The Serenity...Challenge...and Sobering Realities of Sailing the Columbia

For those interested in sailing the Columbia, there are a couple of ways to go.

Operators of smaller sailboats (daysailers) can lower the masts and swing the keel up (keels are the fins that project from the bottom of the boat for stabilization), allowing the boats to be easily loaded onto trailers. Larger sailboats have “fixed keels” and are difficult to move out of the water, so they are typically moored in marinas. While mooring a sailboat can be costly, it allows the sailors to easily take their boats out onto the river.

In Dec. 2005, I contacted marinas from St. Helens to the mouth of the Columbia and asked what it would cost to moor a 25-foot sailboat and if there was a waiting list. Here is my survey, revealing a wide variance of availability and price:

St. Helens Marina, St. Helens, Ore. $1245 per year; no waiting list.

Port of Kalama Marina, Kalama, Wash. $1109 per year; one-month waiting list.

Elochoman Slough Marina, Cathlamet, Wash. $423 per year; two- to three-year waiting list.

Port of Astoria East and West Mooring Basins, Astoria, Ore. $675 per year; no waiting list.

Port of Ilwaco, Ilwaco, Wash. $482 per year; one-year waiting list.
---Steve Brock

About eight years ago, I stood at the old Weyerhaeuser boat ramp on a bright summer morning. Gazing out over the calm waters of the Columbia River, I noticed a solitary sailboat quietly motoring upriver, effortlessly cutting through the slowly moving currents. It was that idyllic scene that sparked my imagination and started a relationship with the Columbia River and sailing that continues to this day.

One thing a sailor learns spending time on the river is a respect for the power of its current and how quickly conditions can change. Beautiful sailing weather can switch to a terrifying combination of wind and waves that test even the most seasoned sailor. Paying attention to the tides and charts and navigating the narrow ship channel — while avoiding floating debris, other boaters and large ocean going vessels — challenge Columbia River sailors, even under ideal sailing conditions.

But the sobering realities of river sailing have not stopped the scores of sailing enthusiasts who moor their boats in the many facilities along the shores of the Columbia and who take on these challenges to experience the uniquely satisfying pastime of sailing the Columbia River.

I took sailing lessons and “gave it a go,” sailing a smaller boat on calm lake waters, before buying a Cal25, a 25 foot racer/cruiser sailboat moored at the Elochoman Slough Marina in Cathlamet. After spending many weekends cleaning and repairing the boat and being on a waiting list for a year, I moved my boat up to the Kalama Marina to be closer to home. Moored next to my boat was an Oday 27-foot sloop-rigged sailboat belonging to Kalama resident Ray Blanke. We had met before and had worked together on on a number of occasions at Kalama Chemical, where Ray was the head elec-trician. He was also a veteran Columbia River sailor and, during the five years I owned my boat, I took advan-tage of every oppor-tunity to learn from Ray, picking his brain about his many years of experience on the river.

Recently, I caught up with Ray’s adventures while visiting him at his Kalama home. Naturally, we talked about river sailing. “Sailing the Columbia is beautiful but a lot of work,” he said. “My favorite portion . . . is the lower river below Longview, because it’s less developed and more pristine.”

I was surprised to learn that Ray had moved his boat from the Kalama Marina down to the Port of Ilwaco and curious about what p rompted the move.

“Well, I had sailed the upper river for about 17 years,” he explained. After making occasional trips to Astoria, the jaunt had become an annual trek. “We actually had decided to take it down to Ilwaco just for the summer,” he recalled, “but it was cheaper to keep it down there for the year.”

Ray said his original plan was to bring his boat back to Kalama at the end of the summer, but he wasn’t able to get down to Ilwaco until November.

After leaving the port, he ran into increasingly strong winds, until he had to take down most of the mainsail. Then, sediment stirred up by the rough conditions plugged the fuel filters, killing the engine. Ray said he managed to limp into Astoria, however, and the next day he moved the boat back to Ilwaco, where he has kept it to this day. As he recounted his misadventure, he laughed. It was the type of laugh that comes with relief and in retrospect, recalling something that was very serious at the time.

Sailing the Columbia demands tremendous knowledge, skill and an adventurous spirit willing to take on all that nature and circumstance can deliver. You are out there on your own, in a way that’s very unique in this modern society we live in. But there are few things in life as calming as being on a sailboat in full sail, moving through the water with only the sound of the gurgling of water moving around the hull of the boat. •••

For more on sailing the Columbia, check this site:
http://www.viclink.com/~chaos5/columbia.html

Sitting on the couch a few weeks ago, while watching a movie, a bowl of buttered popcorn on the coffee table, I pondered the good life. I mindlessly reached for the popcorn and found my arm wasn’t quite long enough. Irritated, I shifted my mass and put a little more effort into my conquest of gratification. I still came up short of my goal.

My quest now had my full attention. I quickly assessed the problem and concluded that my arm wasn’t the problem at all. It was my waistline. It had expanded since the weather became an easy excuse not to go hiking.

Last summer, Karla Dudley and I ventured out into the forests of the great Northwest almost every weekend. As a result, I lost 34 pounds, going from a 42- to 38-inch waistline. I was proud of my accomplishment and vowed never to gain that weight back. But there I sat, just a few months later, unable to stuff my face because I couldn’t bend over far enough. Talk about a wake-up call.

What is Santa trying to tell me?
Evidently, someone else had noticed my waistline predicament, since for Christmas this year, Santa brought me a set of snowshoes. What the heck did I need with a pair of snowshoes? You have to go where there is snow to use them, I thought, which also means putting on tire chains and a whole host of other complications. My mind was racing for excuses not to roll off the couch.

As luck would have it, my brother, his wife and their son have a cabin on Mt. Hood. They were in town for Christmas and I called them to offer season’s greetings.

As the conversation progressed, it became clear that my nephew, who is an avid mountain climber and is preparing to climb in Peru this summer, was going to go—of all things—snowshoeing.
I volunteered to go along. Once committed, Karla and I pointed the trusty van toward the Columbia River Gorge. There, we would spend the night in my brother’s ‘storybook’ cabin in the woods, complete with a babbling brook, roaring fire and spirits of the season, all while planning my first snowshoe adventure.

Easy Street
The plan was to go easy, maybe ‘shoe’ our way to Trillium Lake, just off highway 26. It would be nice and flat, easy—nothing too vigorous.

At Government Camp, much to our surprise, there was only about 3” of snow, not enough to go snowshoeing.

“Darn,” I thought, “I guess we’ll have go some other time.” Thinking I was off the hook, I began to relax until I heard the words, “ Timberline Lodge.” and saw that we were headed towards the turnoff up to Timberline. The next thing I knew, I was on my knees, taking tire chains out of the never-opened bag. It was starting to snow and blow. Surprisingly, these new chains were a breeze to install. The whole operation took less than five minutes. On the road again, we gained altitude and the snow fell at an ever increasing rate. “How appropriate,” I thought, “I am going snowshoeing in a snow storm.”

Coming to grips with reality, I gazed at the bindings that I would soon have to manipulate, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. “Doesn’t look like brain surgery,” I thought. I would just slide the toe of my boot in and tighten up a strap around my heel, then snug a strap over my boot. It obviously had been snowing for quite a while at Timberline, for there was 20 inches of brand new powder on top of the base. Perfect conditions to try out my brand new snowshoes.

The moment of truth was at hand. There I was, snowshoes resting on the snow in front of me and skiers walking by, giving looks of amusement. “Why would anybody walk up the hill when they could take a lift?” they seemed to be thinking. I slid my boot into the first ‘shoe’ and bent down to tighten the bindings. As I had hoped, the process was straightforward and posed no problem at all.

Now ready to go, my nephew led us up a ravine just east of Timberline Lodge. The first few steps were tentative, but soon confidence was building and I was actually enjoying myself. Our goal was to ‘shoe’ to Silcox Hut (a comfort station), about a mile f rom Timberline lodge with 1000’ of elevation gain. Ha! A far cry from a nice, easy, flat stroll to Trillium Lake.

Nanuck of the North
To my surprise, my expanded waistline and I were soon gliding on top of the 20 inches of fresh powder. We intersected the snowcat track leading up the mountain. There were orange poles every 50 feet or so, which was comforting, as the snow was by then coming down at an impressive rate. After about an hour, we decided that , due to the weather, we should go back.

Once we made it back into the vicinity of the lodge, I had the bright idea of getting off the snowcat track and going cross country. By now I felt in total control of my snowshoes and wanted to go through the deep powder. Even though walking on loose snow is more difficult, I was feeling like Nanuck of the North, trudging to basecamp.

Coming to the ravine just before the lodge, I plunged forward. As I caught the nose of my snowshoes, I remembered my nephew saying something about traversing steep grades. I did a “graceful” forward sommersault, landing in a pile, looking very much like t he Abominable Snowman.

As a reward for our efforts, we went into Timberline Lodge for a bowl of chili and something hot to drink. Refreshed, we left the lodge at twilight and were greeted with clearing skies, revealing the mountain in an eerie blue hue.

On the way home, I was glad I had rolled off the couch. I felt great and now have a new way to exercise, which doesn’t require expensive equipment or special clothes. Snowshoeing is easy to master and allows you to go where the snow goes. It’s an economical and beautiful way to enjoy the Northwest in winter. Anyone can do it, even they’ve put on a few pounds and can’t reach the popcorn bowl.

If you can walk, you can snowshoe. I recommend it.

Snowshoeing is for anyone. It’s relatively inexpensive and inter-generational.Wherever there’s snow, you can snowshoe. How? You don’t need to take lessons. If you can walk, you can snowshoe. REI offers free clinics (check for locations www.rei.com or call its Hillsboro store at 503-617-6072 or the Portland store at 503.617.6072). Cost & Gear Needed: Rent a pair for about $10 per day. Purchase for $100 and up. Poles are optional. Snow shoes attach to ordinary, sturdy hiking boots. Be sure to wear appropriate, waterproof gear and take water. Don’t go alone or into the wilderness.
Where to snowshoe? Mt. Rainier, Snoqualmie Pass, White Pass and Government Camp areas have snowshoe trails, along with groomed cross-country trails (parking fees may apply) Most public sno-parks
include snowshoeing options. ---Karla Dudley
For more information, visit: www. parks.wa.gov/winter
www.trails.com
www.wintertrails.org