Three days up the Columbia River
Cast off from Astoria, OR (river mile 15)
Sailing the Columbia River and Back Waters, From Astoria to Portland. I have no need to dream about far off exotic ports that I may never see because first I’m going to explore my own back yard, so to speak. We arranged for our son to drive with us to the coast. The plan was to trailer the sailboat to Astoria and he would bring the trailer back empty, leaving the three of us to fend for ourselves and find our way upriver to our home moorage.
The boat ramp at Astoria is convenient and well designed
, but the pre-launch area is part gravel parking lot and part muddy field. We parked near another sailboat crew that was busy stepping their mast and rigging the boat. Because of the mud and gravel I decided we would get on off the boat as little as possible while getting ready, so I told my 10 year old to go play on the docks and try to stay away from the Sea Lions that had taken over one entire float.
The Sea Lions are so big and crowded
that the float is listing and partially submerged. These are some of the same critters that will soon swim the 130 or so miles up river to Bonneville Dam, where they will feast on returning Salmon that pool below the dam.
While rigging the boat
, I can hear the group next to us taking instruction from their skipper. I hope I don’t sound like that. In a little over an hour were ready to back down the ramp and turn our boat loose. Launching goes off without a hitch, minutes later we are on our way, I turn and watch long enough to see our son turn the correct way towards home. He’s on his own and so are we. We quietly float past the Sea Lions; they ignore us as we motor out into the river.
Not hint of wind as we point ourselves up stream.
The river is smooth and flat; we are about ten miles from the ocean. Other than the rising tide you wouldn’t know we at the edge of the largest ocean in the world. The Columbia is about four miles wide at Astoria, with lots of sand bars, and mud flats. There are two navigation channels going up river, one is the main channel where the ships going to Portland must operate or run aground.
The other is navigable by small boats
and meanders behind grassy islands along the Oregon side. We are not oriented yet; we have our chart, but don’t know where we are, so I point us towards what looks like a likely channel with some sort of markers in the distance. We wave to the other sailboat as they go by heading for the main channel. I wonder if they think were lost. We travel about three of four miles and using the binoculars try to spot a number somewhere that we can locate on the chart.
I still don’t know where we should be heading
but I have been studying the shore and don’t think we are any where near where the channel goes. Just because the charts lists an Island and you can see an Island doesn’t mean your boat belongs next to an Island. I think the river is more like ten miles wide now, so it’s easy to get confused. I’m starting to wish we had not left the dock without a better plan than head east and see where you go.
We finally are near enough to positively identify
a marker and realize we are heading into a dead end. I change course and cut across an area that the chart shows as having only one foot of water at mean low low tide. Our depth sounder says about eight feet are under us, but I’m very nervous since our keel is down about six feet. Running aground isn’t the only worry, running into a deadhead or submerged piling is a very real possibility, and a good reason to go slow.
In short order as we get close to the Oregon shore
we spot some markers that correspond to our chart and finally know where we are. The wind picks up a little and we are sailing, I kill the motor and enjoy the silence. I wouldn’t describe the view as spectacular but it is very interesting and not at all boring. Birds of course are everywhere, the ever-present Herons are around each corner standing perfectly still trying to look invisible, and when they take flight, they look positively prehistoric. You can’t sail the Columbia without seeing hundreds of Osprey and their nests, they seem to own every piling or navigation aid ever built.
The squawking young ones are as big
as their parents and demand to be fed non stop. We poke our bow into backwaters and coves that seem interesting, sometimes we spot deer but more often cows. It is surprising that we discover buildings out in this area that really is just a few feet above the water.
Most are shacks left over from more prosperous
times on the river, but some are quite substantial and have rotten old docks, a few are occupied. When we get close enough to see that someone may be living there, you suddenly feel like your trespassing and quickly turn away. The wind is very spotty, sometimes we are not moving at all. I think we have run aground and ask if anyone thinks we have stopped moving, Jaiden is sure we are still moving because he can see the current flowing around the boat.
.
As the sun is heading west the wind picks up and we are sailing well. We clear the last of the islands and make for the main channel, I think the port of Cathlamet is just around the next corner and sure enough soon a forest of boat masts and a breakwater come into view.
Cathlamet, WA (river mile 40)
I hate to take the sails down, we really haven’t had very good sailing until the last hour and I don’t want to quit. Soon we are motoring into the moorage; there are quite a few people around, a few wave, and many kayakers. Just past the gas dock
Hayden Bay, Portland, OR (river mile 107)
John