Three days in the Columbia River
Departing from Astoria, Oregon [15 miles from the river]
I don't have to dream of staying away from exotic ports that I might never see, because first I have to explore my backyard, so to speak. We arranged for our son to drive to the coast with us. The plan is to drag the sailboat to Astoria, he will empty the trailer, let the three of us take care of ourselves and find our upstream to the berth of our home. The ship ramp in Astoria is convenient and well-designed, but the pre-launch area is part of the gravel car park and part of the muddy land. We parked near another sailing crew who was busy stepping on the mast and maneuvering the ship. Because of the dirt and gravel, I decided to get on the boat as little as possible when I was ready, so I told my 10-year-old child to go to the dock and try to stay away from the sea lions that had taken over the entire pier. Sea lions are so large and crowded, floating and partially submerged. These are some of the same small animals that will soon swim to 130 or rivers on the river to the Bonneville Dam, where they will spread on the squid below the return dam.
While maneuvering the vessel, I can hear the team next to us accepting the captain's instructions. I hope that I don't sound like that. In more than an hour, we are ready to return to the ramp and then relax the boat. After a few minutes, we were on the road and I turned to look at the right way for our son to turn home. He is alone, and we are the same. We floated quietly above the sea lions; when we drove into the river, they would ignore us. When we point ourselves out, there is no wind. The river is smooth and flat; we are about ten miles from the ocean. Except for the high tide, you won't know that we are at the edge of the world's largest ocean. Colombia is about four miles wide in Astoria, with many beaches and mudflats. There are two navigation channels on the river, one is the main passage that must be operated or stranded by ships leading to Portland. The other can be carried out by boat and behind the islands of the Oregon Coastal Prairie. We are not yet oriented; we have our chart, but we don't know where we are, so I pointed out that we seem to be a possible channel with some sort of mark in the distance. When they headed to the main channel, we waved to another sailboat. I want to know if they think it is lost. We traveled about three miles out of four miles and used binoculars to try to find somewhere we could find on the chart. I still don't know where we should go, but I have been researching the shore and don't think we are near the place where the passage is. Just because the chart lists an island, you can see that an island does not mean that your ship belongs to an island. I think this river is now more like it is very wide, so it is easy to confuse. I started to hope that we didn't leave the dock without a better plan, instead of going east and seeing where you are going. We were finally positive enough to identify a mark and realized that we were heading towards a dead end. I changed the route and cut into an area that showed only one foot of water at an average low tide. Our in-depth singer said about eight feet below us, but I was nervous because our keel dropped about six feet. Stranding is not the only concern. It is a very realistic possibility to encounter a dead end or drowning piling, and it is a very slow reason.
As we approached the Oregon coast, we found some markers that corresponded to our chart and finally knew where we were. The wind started a little, we were sailing, I killed the motor and enjoyed the silence. I won't describe this idea as spectacular, but it's very interesting and not boring. Birds are of course everywhere, and the ever-hering herons stand in every corner, still seemingly invisible, and when they fly, they look like prehistoric. If you don't see hundreds of ospreys and their nests, you can't drive the Columbia, they seem to have all the piling or navigation equipment ever built. The noisy young people are as big as their parents and demand to keep feeding. We prick our bows into interesting backwaters and coves, and sometimes we find deer, but more commonly cattle. Surprisingly, we found that the buildings in this area are really only a few feet tall. Most of them are shacks left when the river is more auspicious, but some are quite large, with rotten old piers and some occupied. When we are close enough to see someone might live there, you suddenly feel like you are breaking in and turning quickly away. The wind is very unstable, sometimes we don't move at all. I think we have run aground and asked if anyone thinks we have stopped moving, and Jaiden is convinced that we are still moving because he can see the current flowing on the ship. I have already arranged two trees on the shore. I can tell that we have stopped [in the mud]. I played a guessing game for a while, and finally announced that someone must lift the keel, otherwise we will be in trouble all day. No one is moving, Linda is studying, and Jaiden is jealous. I climbed into the hut, turned the handle of the winch all the way around, then looked at the trees, nothing, another complete turn, then free, sailing again, one with the wind, rushing to the mighty Columbia River. Oops, someone needs to turn as soon as possible, or I will open the keel more. We have been driving on these narrow waterways for a few hours, and we know exactly where we are because of the occasional market. We have GPS, but using the chart looks more appropriate and enjoyable. I remember pulling down the keel and letting us rest assured that we know we can change the draught from 6 feet to 3 feet when needed.
When the sun sailed west, the wind started and we sailed very well. We cleaned up the last island and built the main passage. I think the port of Cathlamet is at the next corner and soon I will see a boat mast and breakwater forest.
Cathlamet, Washington [40 miles from the river]
I hate to bring the sail down, until the last hour we have not sailed very well, I don't want to give up. Soon, we drove into the mooring; there were many people around, a few people, and many kayakers. Next to the gas terminal, I saw an open dock and then skilfully slipped into the space behind our sailboat from Astoria. We exchanged details like old friends. They mentioned that they have been for hours, and it is really a sail. What happened to us? I told them that we went to all the islands and had a good time until we needed to put down the sails and the motor into the mooring. This reminds me of the need to check the gas, which may have to be filled before we leave tomorrow. Our new friend said they stayed at Longview Yacht Club the next night. I thought, I don't know if Langwei has a dock or moored, how can they have a club. Cathlamet has a small mooring and a busy place. We met an old acquaintance kayak camping. They offer camping, short moorings or all seasons. The boats here are very protected by ship traffic, where there are boat ramps and fuel terminals. It is only one block walk into the town, where there are several restaurants and shops for shopping. We arrived very early, we could visit the town, then return to the boat and make dinner before dark. In the morning after a laid-back coffee and breakfast, we opened a small passage behind the island on the Washington side. There is ample evidence that old logging operations have dealt with rafts. We hit a place two feet below the ground and found a row or submerged pile. After a short walk, the waterway passed through, forcing us to turn around and leave the adventure to the kayaker. We cleaned into the main rivers of Puget Sound, which is served by a bridge on the Washington side and a ferry on the Oregon side. When we got on the river, the ferry met in front of us, so we hid in the quagmire of the ferry and waited for the return trip. I don't know how interesting it is to look at us or the ferry passengers we stare at them. So far, we have hardly made progress on the river so far and have been killed for three hours. There is no wind, just like yesterday, we are caught in a monotonous 4 mph sleep induction mill. On the Washington side, we passed some beautiful high cliffs. I looked at my map and found the name of the Eagle Cliff, Bunker Hill, and Oak Corner. In Oregon, we are mainly looking at the lowlands, and it is very likely that we will soon come to another reasonable island waterway to explore. After checking the chart, I was sure I had enough depth and turned to Oregon again. Within a few minutes, the main river is history, and we are once again surrounded by nature. Somehow, 4mph looks like we are competing, even if it is not respected using noisy outboard motors. I lowered the speed of the engine to a fast idle state and watched the coastline slide over. Occasionally we come to the slang on the road and enter the left channel after checking the chart. Soon after the "collision", it was difficult for us to run aground and there was no warning at all. The depth is from 15 feet to 3 feet from the stern length. We release ourselves, move about twenty feet, then again, and again. Now, I see some people on another channel on the shore. They use other channels in our area. I should pay attention to their wave, because if we expect to see the Columbia River again, then my latest current chart is like this. We released ourselves for the last time and provided power to our savior. They stood on the private dock a little bit...
Orignal From: From Astoria to Portland, sailing the Columbia River and backwaters
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