Hell's Canyon
With the cruise ship Sea Bird docked in Clarkston, Washington, we are spending a day touring Hell's Canyon by jet boat. We come upstream on the Snake River in the early morning sunshine. The leaves are beginning to turn to red and gold as the days of October hurry on. Once we are beyond slackwater and into the full current of the river we feel the powerful tug of the current. Whitewater breaks over the rocks nearby and the sense of excitement grows. The riverfront homes are left behind, and fishermen appear trying their luck and skill for the beautiful steelhead run that is in the river. Fish leap around us occasionally. Deer, great blue herons, osprey, golden eagles, and several small bands of bighorn sheep frequent the river's edge. After nearly sixty miles of spectacular scenery we stop for lunch on this remote sandbar.
The engines are quiet now. The silence of the canyon is upon us. The call of a wren, and the gentle gurgle of water is all that we hear. Lunch is delicious, and the ambience is just right. As we think back on the journey of Lewis and Clark as they were farther downstream on the Snake River nearly two hundred years ago, at this very same season, we surmise that they did not have it nearly as pleasant as we have had today.
With the cruise ship Sea Bird docked in Clarkston, Washington, we are spending a day touring Hell's Canyon by jet boat. We come upstream on the Snake River in the early morning sunshine. The leaves are beginning to turn to red and gold as the days of October hurry on. Once we are beyond slackwater and into the full current of the river we feel the powerful tug of the current. Whitewater breaks over the rocks nearby and the sense of excitement grows. The riverfront homes are left behind, and fishermen appear trying their luck and skill for the beautiful steelhead run that is in the river. Fish leap around us occasionally. Deer, great blue herons, osprey, golden eagles, and several small bands of bighorn sheep frequent the river's edge. After nearly sixty miles of spectacular scenery we stop for lunch on this remote sandbar.
The engines are quiet now. The silence of the canyon is upon us. The call of a wren, and the gentle gurgle of water is all that we hear. Lunch is delicious, and the ambience is just right. As we think back on the journey of Lewis and Clark as they were farther downstream on the Snake River nearly two hundred years ago, at this very same season, we surmise that they did not have it nearly as pleasant as we have had today.
