Weekend in Astoria

Astoria, Oregon viewed from Warrenton, Oregon (click to enlarge)

Andrea and I were in Astoria, Oregon from September 26-28 while Andrea was attending a Saturday conference for Credit Unions and I had some free time to roam around on my own to explore the environs and take some snapshots. On Sunday, I took her around to the best places I had been able to scout out in advance. We had a great day, relaxing, taking in the sights around Astoria, walking along the ocean beaches and getting our feet wet in the chilly northern Pacific. Afterward I thought it would be fun to write up a little travelogue with some relevant context and I posted some photos to share the experience, so I hope you enjoy. :)

The Columbia River flows from the mountains surrounding Glacier National Park in Canada, winding its way North alongside the snow peaked northern Rocky Mountains in Alberta, Canada and then back south through British Columbia, down through the middle of Washington state, until it hits Oregon. Just before the Columbia gets to Oregon heading southward, the Snake River joins the party and the entire confluence turns 90 degrees westward, toward the Pacific coast. From there on, the Columbia marks the border between Oregon and Washington State.

The Snake River's contribution is no small part of the might of the Columbia river.  The Snake churns its way westward across the plains from the Continental Divide at Yellowstone in Wyoming, slicing through the arid hills and across the plains of Idaho, ripping through stone canyons and creating much loved rapids for adventurers by draining 108,000 square miles of rainfall, pushing out nearly 57,000 cubic feet of water per second into the Columbia River.

The Columbia River and tributaries (click to enlarge)

During the winter, the mellow summer creeks throughout the Pacific Northwest tributaries are fueled by rainfall, filtered through mossy rivulets, cascading down forested mountainsides, all ultimately contributing heavily to the smaller rivers: the Spokane, Okanogen, Yakima, Umatilla, John Day, Deschutes and Willamette, along with hundreds of lesser tributaries, they all conspire to become the Columbia River, the greatest waterway of the Western United States. That combined torrent has cut its way through the Cascade Mountain range in between Mount Hood in Oregon and Mt. St. Helens in Washington for millions of years, shaping the peaceful gorge we know today.

The Astoria-Megler Bridge (click to enlarge)

At Astoria, Oregon, the final ocean-bound stretch, the Columbia is spanned by the four mile long Astoria-Megler Bridge.  It is the largest truss bridge in North America. The great ocean going transports and tanker ships carefully navigate under this bridge that joins Oregon to Washington State and the road above continues the legendary road trip along the Pacific Coast Highway 101 from sunny San Diego to snow peaked Vancouver, Canada. The Columbia ends its run toward the sea here, just past Astoria.

Sinotrans ship "Great Immensity" on the Columbia River (click to enlarge)

The last spit of land, fronting the Pacific Coastline is Warrenton. It is separated from Astoria by two small rivers which join with the Columbia at the last second. From the mountains of Oregon’s coastal range, the two rivers, Young’s River and the Clark River, pour northerly into the Columbia. There is a smaller bridge from Astoria to Warrenton over Young’s Bay where fishermen catch Sturgeon and Salmon in the quiet channel off the main. The oceanic tide holds up the lower parts of the river twice a day, backing up the flow while immense flocks of seabirds take to the skies from their flooded posts to look for dinner to the rhythm of the moon’s dance around the Earth.

Seagulls and Herons waiting for the tide to come in (click to enlarge)

The importance of the Columbia waterway, here at the Pacific cannot be understated for the shipping control of the Northwestern United States. A steady stream of commercial traffic comes and goes through this estuary today, and in the past, it was the only reasonable means of transport in this rugged mountainous wilderness. Fort Stevens was built in 1859 to protect the river mouth from the British who were vying for control of the San Juan Islands near Seattle, and during the ongoing Alaska boundary dispute, and there were concerns that there could be an attack by the Confederacy as well. 

During World War II, the fort was shelled by a Japanese submarine off the coast, making this the only place in the continental United States to receive hostile fire. During the history of the fort a new series of embattlements and upgraded weapons were added over time as each potential threat emerged. You can still go see the massive cannons and military outpost remnants located there.

Canon and Bunker at Fort Stevens, Warrenton, Oregon (click to enlarge)

They city of Astoria is named after John Jacob Astor who made a pile of money from lumber out here but never bothered to visit the place himself. It was the place that Lewis and Clark ended up at the Pacific end of their historic trip, though with all the cold rain and wind during the winter they were quoted as saying that they would not exactly call the locale “Pacific” and they froze their leather skinned patooties off in the dampness in 1805 at their little wooden Fort Clatsop, wishing for spring so they could return to the warm hearths of the “civilized world” which had not yet extended beyond the far side of the Mississippi. They were the first to map out the overland route across this new vast wilderness acquired from France in the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. Before their historic voyage, Americans were ignorant about nearly half of the continent.

The Astoria Column - Circular staircase to the top is open to the public (click to enlarge)

In that historical context, it is amazing to survey the landscape and realize that just 200 years ago there were thriving populations of Native American tribes living out here, doing what they had been doing for some 40,000 years. Now, just 200 years later, Astoria is a city filled almost entirely with people of European ancestry who followed in the wake of Lewis and Clark to take advantage of the “new” land and its natural resources that made this place flourish for decades in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s.

Fishing Trawler "Jackpot" -  Astoria, Oregon (click to enlarge)

But the boom didn’t last as the rest of the West opened up and railroads led to other places like San Francisco and Seattle with superior natural harbors that kept growing indefinitely. In 2008, Astoria is still trying to re-vitalize itself as a tourist destination in the wake of its Victorian era fur trading, logging and shipping boom. The Native Americans who had been here all along are virtually gone, except those surviving on reservations or wandering through this shockingly new landscape grafted onto the land. To them, it must feel like being a tourist caught in a demented Disney adventure from which they can never escape.  Now paved over with concrete, this place is dotted with dilapidated structures and the dusty windows of vacant store fronts downtown, their facades weathered by the relentless forces of Nature and Time.

The Flavel House - Astoria, Oregon (click to enlarge)

Astoria does have a number of pretty Victorian homes that were built during it’s booming past when the money flowed up the hillside to the powerful few and whiskey flowed down at the taverns by the docks where sailors, fishermen, fur trappers and lumberjacks all shared brews and compared tattoos. That’s also where transient people were sometimes literally shanghaied into service when there was a need for extra crew. The city of Portland still has the infamous tunnels and trap doors that unwitting patrons found themselves dropped into before finding themselves miles out to sea the next day. 

Astoria has a brand new Maritime Museum that chronicles its seafaring history and all that the rivers and ocean have given to make the region grow, and all that the treacherous waters have taken back in payment in numbers of ships, goods they carried and lives lost to the watery depths. There is a kind of melancholy that permeates the place, subtle as a passing mood, but you can feel it still. It seems less like a place for exciting new beginnings, rather more like long and drawn out, not-entirely-happy ending where you take a deep breath, contemplate all the twists and turns of life, land and sea, and when you’ve come to terms with it all, exhale and move on with purpose and resolve.

Pacific Ocean/Columbia River Jetty - Warrenton, Oregon (click to enlarge)

There is plenty to enjoy when you look past the glaring failures of the faded boom. The place is surrounded by the eternal elements: with the greatest river of the North West swirling tumultuously with power; emerald forests of evergreen mountains and valleys as far as the eye can see in all directions from atop the Astoria Column; and to the western horizon where the biggest ocean on Earth stretches off into the distant mist where the sky blends into the ocean, curving around the globe all the way to the Asian continent with only a few lonely dots of land in-between. 

One can’t help but feel like we could do a better job framing the rampant beauty of this westerly confluence than some of the wreckage we’ve left behind. Happily, the waterfront walk in Astoria has been recently created, the old canneries are being turned into hotels and restaurants and there is a trolley car that runs the length of the city along the river shoreline and it’s bustling with walkers and baby strollers and happy dogs eyeing the seagulls and pulling their people along as fast as they can, some people jogging to keep up, others stumbling after their eager canine companions.

Home On Tidal Pond, Overlooking the Columbia River - Astoria, Oregon (click to enlarge)

I took photos in and around Astoria along the river shoreline, at the mooring basin harbor among the fishing trawlers and docks full of sea lions, also from atop the hill where the Astoria Column stands sentinel, watching the ceaseless shipping traffic inbound some 60 miles toward Portland or Vancouver, Washington to unload their goodies coming from overseas. The little pilot boats help push the big ships sideways to keep them from drifting into the city shoreline because the channel hugs the Astoria side of the river. 

You can see from here why this shipping channel is one of the world’s most dangerous, as the Columbia estuary has claimed hundreds of shipping vessels over the years due to its wild current and tricky channel. As I noted on my visits to Seattle the last couple of years, all of the incoming ships are full and none (zero) of the outgoing ships are carrying anything. What does that tell you about our trade status and likelihood of staying on top of the world’s stage economically? Worrisome.

Three empty ships going out, one full ship coming in - Astoria, Oregon (click to enlarge)

I also took photos from the beach head of the Columbia and Young’s Rivers at Warrenton looking back at Astoria and the rivers flowing under their bridges on the last mile to the salty ocean with a total of 265,000 cubic feet per second of fresh water rages swirling past. Then I walked along the outer coastline at the beach where sits the Peter Iredale shipwreck. Though it couldn’t deny the sea, it still protrudes from the sand in steely defiance of the long decades, oblivious to the beach waders and kite fliers and kids and dogs running around it on warm days, it sits there alone, rusting in colors, orange, reds and blacks, flaking away pitted rust from eroding salt air and ocean waves and encrusted with determined sea creatures who have clung to it, leaving their markings behind in an ongoing struggle for over a century now.

Peter Iredale, 1908 Shipwreck Remains - Warrenton, Oregon (click to enlarge)

I took a long walk down the man made jetty of enormous boulders placed there to keep the shoreline in place around the mouth of the Columbia to maintain otherwise shifting sands so the narrow channel has the depth necessary for the shipping traffic. The waves were relentlessly crashing onto the rocks, driven by winds from places unseen, imparting their energy built up across thousands of miles of open ocean, assailed by violent wind, ending up against these immovable rocks with a plume of mist, the most far reaching droplets hitting high up on the dry, sun baked rocks, steaming back into the sky. Here at the end of the farthest end, the sun looms overhead, bright and warm on the face of the land, fulfilling it’s obligation that all creatures depend on it for, waiting for its nightly appointed crash into the ocean. In its seemingly all powerful absence, it reveals the truly immense show of our Universe of stars, billions that shine on their own little worlds, floating in this space of our shared perpetual magnitude of night.

Pacific Ocean Surf - Warrenton, Oregon (click to enlarge)

The smell of the sea air, salty, slightly fishy to my suburban nose fills the senses. The warmth of the sun is washed away by frequent cool breezes chilling soft skin as the neighborly oceanic Arctic air reminds you that here, you’re just a visitor on a nice day, not a native adapted to the unkind days of the approaching season. 

The seagulls and pelicans were the most abundant winged fishermen filling the sky, spotting fish, crooking their wings and diving faster than the rest in a challenge to snatch their prey from the water first. When they dive, you can almost hear them squawk outloud, “Mine!”, before they crash into the water. They flew to-and-fro, crisscrossing the sky in small groups, en-route to visiting their favorite fishing spots. They know instinctively what time of day to make the expedition or when to relax on the newly exposed land when the tide’s drawn out so they can sit and digest the day’s catch and wait for the moon to release its grip and usher in a new cache of fresh wriggling treats.

Pelicans fishing, the top one preparing to dive - Warrenton, Oregon (click to enlarge)

The sea lions at the mooring basin were really boisterously vociferous, sounding much like an ongoing argument of stuffy old men with bullish opinions, each clamoring to be the loudest to be heard. I thought they sounded like nature’s own version of British Parliament. Every morning when the sun comes up they revel in the warmth of the day; they pull themselves up out of the icy black night water to dry off and can once again stop worrying about the sharks cheating up into the river mouth looking for flabby snacks. I imagine if the sharks were in the advertising business they would market them as “fat rollups”. All flippers and now with twice the flubber.

Sea lions at the East Mooring Basin - Astoria, Oregon (click to enlarge)

The noise is apparent from blocks away, echoing across the water and bouncing off the boats and seawalls. The sea lions are clearly voicing their moderate displeasure as other fellow sea lions jockey for position and try to come in for a landing on the crowded docks, sending up a refrain of “aaaroooohh’s” from the nearest sunbathers being splashed and disturbed. The rest of the chorus group, in shared communal disapproval, some lazily lifting their heads to join in the cacophony, join in the complaint of noise simply for upsetting their sun warmed furry flippered enjoyment. You can tell from their little puppy like whisker faces that nobody’s really mad about anything, it’s all just protocol.

Sea lions at the East Mooring Basin - Astoria, Oregon (click to enlarge)

Enjoy more Photos of Astoria:
http://picasaweb.google.com/JasonRobertJensen/AstoriaOR#

Let me know if there are any Photos you particularly liked. :)

-Jason