MORE PEACEFUL COLUMBIA!

I will talk about the Missoula Flood next time. Last weekend I passed this tranquil river shore at Pateros WA ad the southeastern end of the North Cascades Highway #20. Before a dam below this location was completed, steamers came north from Wenatchee up the Columbia River to deliver people and supplies to little towns . This particular stretch then was a rugged rapid. Depending on the water flow a steamer could make it up through the rapids or not. Hurtling through again downstream was also a problem. When needed, teams of horses hooked onto the steamer to help. Also at Pateros is still a large anchoring ring. The local historical society has a small museum adjacent to this lawn. Today Pateros is one of the favorite spots for boating or kayaking.  Not far beyond this little town, around the corner to the right in this photo, another river runs into the Columbia -- the Okanogan River coming in from the north. Its origin is far up in the Okanagan Valley of Canada,(spelled with an o in the USA, an a in BC). The valley is a paradise for visitors as the river runs through two large lakes or more and in winter ski resorts galore flourish on nearby mountains.

The Okanogan River (USA) skirts the Colville Reservation, home to several original tribes and where Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce is buried. He was not an original resident there but was from farther south in the Wallowa Mountains of Oregon. During the relocation of many tribal entities, in death Joseph wound up among original tribal residents who once had been at odds with the Nez Perce. Remember the famous flight of this group of Nez Perce from the USA military troops toward Canada to avoid going on the required reservation?  "I will fight no more forever.....?" Chief Joseph??

The Missoula Floods ripped out Grand Coulee

I just returned from a trip along part of the Columbia River near Grand Coulee Dam and Wenatchee. The photo is Steamboat Rock in Banks Lake.  Here is the greater explanation:
The CR comes southward from the international border through Roosevelt Lake, a large and wide section of the Columbia, really, formed by the backup from Grand Coulee Dam. This large facility is complex, and management stores water according to how much and when power is created at the dam itself. Some is in Roosevelt Lake. More is the water pumped uphill to what was called Banks Lake after it became part of the total facility. It can be used with care for boating and recreation, and naturally its borders change with power needs and climate. The large body of water narrows down at Coulee City, where major east-west highway 2 crosses the Columbia. A person visiting the area by car should be sure to travel the road from the dam to Coulee City, not only for the lake's views, but the spectacular and ragged rocky cliffs or walls that soar almost a thousand feet on either side. It is a vista that is reminiscent of Utah's canyons, only this one has water. This week with spring sun at work the cliffs sported green shrubs and even green growths on some of the rocky faces. Mid-May was a perfect time to review my earlier research observations.

There is more to this story, a thrilling geological saga I will try to abbreviate. During the most recent Ice Age what is now central Washington State and on into adjacent British Columbia, Canada the land was covered with glaciers that extended roughly to a point a bit north of today's Highway 2  Other glaciers abounded across many parts of the nation. A glacier of the same period extended beyond Seattle from Canada.

 Then a climate change took place naturally, melting the glaciers. Over in Montana a lake called Missoula  swelled  with water. Meanwhile, the portion of the glacial ice between the North Cascades Mountains and eastward was stubborn and failed to melt as fast. Lake Missoula's ice barrier melted and fractured, permitting all the stored water to plummet roughly west and south along what is today part of the tributaries and the original Columbia River's ancient channel. This freezing and thawing went on several times before it all settled down for Lake Missoula. What a sight it would have been to see this torrent of water raging through the land.

Well, all went smoothly until the flood encountered the solid ice still present near today's Grand Coulee Dam and could not continue along the old Columbia River channel. Soooo, the river turned and headed south along an old earth fault that ran through the Grand Coulee (today's Banks Lake). It ripped open wide that fault through the layers of rock that now form the boundaries of Banks Lake, then fell over a plateau at Dry Falls (south of Coulee City) with a spectacle that was several times the width and descent of Niagara Falls. The flood quieted some but carved away a few more smaller, natural lakes before it again reached the ancient Columbia River channel not far from today's Hanford Project and  turned to wreak havoc as sit headed for the ocean at today's Astoria.  You who are geologists, bear with me in my simplistic tale of this unimaginable flood.

More about Steamboat Rock and this saga next time I share with you, probably next week. More new CR photos, too.

North Cascades Mountain valleys

One of the most beautiful North Cascades Mountain valleys is the Methow Valley that begins high in the mountains and was carved -- chiefly by the Methow River and ancient glaciers -- through the eastern North Cascades foothills to end at the edge of the Columbia River miles below. Deer and cougars, black bear and a few grizzlies, too, in the border country of USA and Canada thrive in the forests and a few mesas. This pond is manmade and helps to support resident deer that seldom leave this mountain resident's property. During winter storms the deer often gather in the holes around trees made by drifting snow. Deer are browsers more than grazing animals, so trees and brush are preferred foods. In these remote valleys the few settlers live each day side by side with the creatures, mostly in harmony.  Pet cats and small dogs, though, must be careful  to avoid becoming a wild animal's choice meal.

Along its 1243-mile length in Canada and Washington State the river mostly is forested except for parts of eastern Washington with its drier climate. Certain river waterfalls always were prime fishing spots for native Americans who used self-made baskets on poles to simply put into the falling water to catch unfortunate salmon within.

The river drains thousands of square miles of both countries, including water in tributary rivers as far east as the Rocky Mountains. What a thrilling waterway that has also carried explorers of the continent and later new settlers on its challenging, swift waters. Not a few people tell me that they have read my book, The Columbia River, and plan to travel its waters (taking their canoes or boats out and back in below dams) from beginning to end. Before any dams in the 1800s a handful of people did exactly that in small boats, one in a rowboat, overcoming not dams as obstacles but raging rapids in places.

RESEARCH FOR STORIES SOMETIMES ADVENTUROUS

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Above Mica Dam at the Big Bend of the Columbia River in northern BC the river always was wide and active.  Canoe River and others added their drainage to the Columbia, too. At the right in this photo is Lake Kinbasket, always a natural lake that received the melt water from the huge Columbia Icefields that lie between the Columbia and Jasper AB. Kinbasket was known as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world, and still is, just even larger than its original lake and very remote. Its only access, essentially,  is from the south end of the lake or, as shown here, above Mica Dam. At a point at upper right in this photo was Boat Encampment on the original river, to which  David Thompson and his exploring crew came originally to escape attacking First Nation warriors on the flats above.

Yes, research can sometimes be dangerous or, at least, adventurous. When I was at the point shown, a dam employee agreed to take me out on the above body of water. I soon asked to return. The water was rough and filled with many loose logs, any one of which could have collided with our small rowboat only about 15 feet long. However, in explorer days well before dams, this particular junction of rivers was really a suicide trip.. It led (to the left of photo) through a narrow gorge and rapids that upset explorers' early boats and drowned not a few persons. Most detoured around it.

I am a lifetime writer for diverse magazine articles, as well as books.  One of my adventures was in the North Cascades Mountains of Washington. A group of Texas prospectors was exploring for gold on the face of a very steep peak called Church Mountain near Mount Baker. Seeking publicity for the work, which was the first time anyone had moved a gold drill by helicopter from one site to another on a mountain, the company sent its helicopter to pick me up to photograph this event. Fine... I left my kitchen (as I was more housewife and mother and less roving writer at the time) and climbed in. Within a half hour's flight the pilot set down the helicopter on a platform barely larger than itself that was attached to the mountainside. Another such platform served as a kitchen and eating site, and a third was for the six crew members  for their sleeping bags.

With little delay I followed the directions of the pilot and gold crew and climbed with my big camera (not a point-and-shoot type) up a slope to position myself where I could photograph the helicopter as it hovered over a prospect hole to pull out the drill and move it elsewhere. I was well aware of the slope's danger, as it must have been about a 60-70 degree rocky site. I positioned myself up-slope from a small tree. If I lost my balance, I thought I would be able to stop rolling by grabbing it. OK, the helicopter hovered. I clicked away at the drill gradually arising from the hole. What none of us had considered was that the helicopter's blades stirred up a torrent of snow and mud that landed all over me and the camera!

The photos completed, I started across a landslide of old rocks bisected by a foot trail maybe two feet wide to the other side of the slope about 300 feet across. Halfway there (with my bulky camera, mud and all) I noticed the dense cloud of fog rising up toward me from the canyon below. I was supposed to get across the rockslide, then ascend about 600 feet on the mountain to take photos of the drill being lowered into a new hole. However, I had been hiking in mountains forever and recognized that I must return or I would be unable to see anything on this dangerous foot trail. This was verified by the crew member that I met coming to get me off the mountain after I had turned back voluntarily. He said, "You have to get on the helicopter pad right away and get off the mountain or you will have to stay here overnight with the crew." The pilot tucked me into the copter and we rotated down again. He immediately left and returned uphill, and I was left alone to find my way back the short way to a small coffee shack and arrange to get back to my home, 50 miles away. I sat and drank coffee for a long time first, reviewing this adventure and asking myself, "What am I doing, anyway!"

True, not all a journalist's life is that exciting, but every now and then....well.... The story and photos, mud spots and all (film not digital), was published in an aviation magazine.