It is so unnaturally cold in Washington State this December that I can believe that, in long past years, the Columbia River actually froze over in places. A barge operator told me about having to park his barge at a private shore near The Dalles in Eastern Washington until the river thawed out. Hard to believe but temperatures in northwest Washington have been hovering in the 20s instead of 45 or so. The book, The Columbia River, traces the development of the barge traffic on the river. During Depression (1930s) days the barges delivered fuel to eastern Washington ports more cheaply than  sending it by roads. Barges also hauled grain from the verdant grain fields of eastern Washington downriver to ocean ships.

The farmers found a curious way of delivering grain to the barges. They and shipping companies built slides down the steep cliffs along the river and sent the grain to the barges or sternwheelers (before them). However, the first uses sent the grain screaming down the slopes so fast that it literally arrived scorched at the bottom. Designers had to build baffles to slow down the descent.

Pacific Flyway over Columbia

I had to laugh when I found myself playing golf at Fairmont Hot Springs Resort and sending a drive across the Columbia River. After all, not so many miles downstream and certainly just before the river enters the Pacific Ocean 1,214 miles away, the river is miles wide, not a few feet, Between Columbia Lake, its birthplace area, and Fairmont, the river is narrow, its rapids only feet wide there giving a preview of the roaring cauldrons (before dams) of rapids downstream. Before and after the charming little town of Invermere, though, the river is virtually a series of swamps. The river searches for a direction through many slow-moving channels lined by waist-high rushes

It's an ideal place for wintering birds, and summer birds, too. Indeed, clouds of birds fly overhead  frequently, in BC's Columbia River Valley as part of the vast north/south Pacific Flyway. I visualized getting a raft and floating through this tranquil stretch but didn't have time. Traveling the long, long river and searching the human history that surrounded it dominated my days. I had a year to write a book, so I divided up the miles into 100-mile increments per month. I was on or by the river each two weeks for 100 miles, gathering history from local and regional libraries, talking to people, and soaking up its essence. Then I went home to write for the next two weeks, returning to pick up my journeys the following month. As my year's deadline loomed, I was roaming Astoria and Pacific Ocean sites.

Way up north on the Columbia

A sunny day where I live. In the dead of winter up on the Columbia River in Canada, west of the Columbia Icefields that are near Jasper, construction crews in the early 1900a could not find cranes and huge trucks that had been parked there. It had snowed so hard they were covered up and could only be located by a low-flying helicopter.  This was not far from where David Thompson came over the Rocky Mountains in January, 1811, through Athabasca Pass (5,735 alt.) fleeing hostile First Nations Piegan people. The icy trail was near the foot of a 2,000' high glacier and all too often a team of dogs pulling sleds would slide around both sides of a tree and get stopped, of course. Two of Thompson's men fled back east, but the others reached the Columbia where it makes a hairpin turn from northwest to south -- roughly the same place where the incredible snowfalls later covered construction equipment.

David Thompson was honored in 2011 by Canada and, to a lesser extent, the United States history for his discovery there of the Columbia River. Thompson actually was honored for his whole career as a surveyor in Canada. He was a valued employee of Hudson's Bay Company, then switched his allegiance to the North West Company, for whom he worked at the time of the Athabasca crossing. Eventually, his men built a small cedar cabin near the river, which became the base for fur company (and other) travelers coming north on the Columbia from way down at Fort Vancouver, Washington State,. They switched to the overland trails there on their route to Hudson's Bay itself or the later HBC posts built near today's Winnipeg, Manitoba. Imagine the hardships on such a trail, first on the none-too-peaceful Columbia River and then over land through the prairies. 

WELCOME TO NW HISTORY FANS

WELCOME and bear with me, as this is my first ever blog. I want to share the stories of the stunning scenery and romance of the Columbia River, once called the River of the West, a brawling river that has been misplaced and misunderstood throughout its history. It rises not in eastern Washington but way up near the British Columbia-Alberta border of Canada. It puzzled early historians until almost 1900, because it promptly runs northwest before turning south in BC, roughly west of Jasper AB. Fully one thousand two hundred and fourteen miles later it enters the Pacific Ocean at Astoria, Oregon, often creating huge waves as it argues with the incoming southwest swells at the entrance as to which has the right to occupy the narrow entrance channel. The book relates stories of the people and happenings in and beside this wonderful waterway. I look forward to sharing my fascination for the river with you, the readers.