September For its last 150 miles, the Columbia River flows
21 - 25: unobstructed to the sea. This is good, because I have
the current helping me. Unfortunately, this section is
also subject to the tides. This is bad, because if I catch
the rising tide, the river's current can actually be
reversed. Plus, the closer I get to the estuary and
ocean, the more I will have to worry about the wind.
After six months on this journey, I've decided that all
wind is bad. I've also become much more cautious and
fearful as I approach the Pacific. I've had such good
fortune so far, and I worry that it's all going to end just
before I get to the ocean. Wind and wave conditions
that wouldn't have fazed me in June now give me
anxiety, and I've taken to not attaching my spray skirt
unless waves are actually breaking into the cockpit, so
that if I'm flipped I can get out easily.
The weather has been remarkably cooperative. There
was a little rain in the morning leaving Vancouver,
followed by some wind, but I was on the lee side and
the chop wasn't too troublesome - the heavy traffic on
the river coming into Vancouver posed greater
problems. By the time I passed the Willamette River, I
started to encounter huge ocean-going freighters, and I
gave them a wide berth. I wish I had a picture of my
kayak next to one of those ships - their bulk made me
feel very small and vulnerable. I've also encountered
more dikes on this part of the river - not the solid rock
dikes of the Missouri, but wooden pilings that can
extend fairly far into the river. The spacing between the
pilings often allows me to shoot throught them, but
occasionally I have to paddle into the main channel to
get around them. I do this gingerly, with great
trepidation. From Gray's Bay, where Lewis and Clark
were trapped for 10 days by heavy wind and rain, to
Point Ellice, across from Astoria, the tidal current was
very strong, and with the stress it put me under I
decided to stop earlier than usual at a campsite near
Chinook, Washington.
Finally....
On Monday, September 25, on the high tide and under
calm wind, I set out across Baker Bay for Cape
Disappointment, Fort Canby State Park, and the Pacific
Ocean. Passing the Coast Guard station at Cape
Disappointment, I found myself in the broad swells of
the Pacific, and I discovered a whole new meaning to
the word fear. I carefully picked my way along the
coastline, staying far enough away from the cliffs and
rocks to avoid getting swept up onto them, and paddled
out along North Point jetty to its end, where the mouth
of the Columbia meets the Pacific Ocean. I was so
scared that the moment barely registered. It was only
after I rounded the jetty and began paddling the final
100 yards to the beach that I began to feel the
excitement of reaching the end of the line. I landed and
stumbled out of the kayak, almost capsizing it in the
surf. This was not quite the graceful end I had
imagined, and it was paricularly embarrassing because
several people on the beach witnessed it. I eventually
convinced a nice couple to photograph my arrival, and
we restaged the event for the cameras, after which I
took a celebratory plunge into the ocean. O the joy!
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