Palouse River
We awoke this morning as the Sea Lion threaded its way eastward through a semi-arid canyon of the Snake River. Massive layers of dark basalt rose from either side of the vessel, stair-stepping from the water to the sky. After breakfast, we anchored in the mouth of the Palouse River and explored that tributary stream by Zodiac and kayak.
Lewis & Clark first saw the Palouse River on October 13, 1805, shortly after running a 3½-mile rapids that Clark described as bad and dangerous. There, Clark said, the river narrowed to just 25 yards between large chunks of basalt. That didn’t leave much room to maneuver, but the pine dugouts came through just fine. Still, Clark noted, the party would have made more portages if time were not so precious to them. They paused at the Palouse, poked around in the cliffs and noted that many of the Palouse Indians spent a portion of their year fishing. They also named the river after the expedition’s premiere hunter, George Droulliard.
We paddled and puttered around the now-placid waters of the Palouse, enjoying the multitudes of swallows who return here every spring to build mud nests from the cliffs. We also spotted a coyote, hawks, orioles, western tanagers, osprey, great blue herons, coots, and a couple of lovely snakes that swam across the river.
After lunching on a crisp green salad and a bowl of tomato soup aboard the Sea Lion, we went ashore and were driven across the billowing plateau to an overlook of Palouse Falls, which plunges roughly 200 feet from a precipitous rim of basalt. Impressive as this cascade is, it represents a mere trickle when compared to the vast Ice Age floodwaters that scoured this landscape bare and carved out the oversized canyon that the Palouse now occupies.
We returned to the ship in late afternoon to regale ourselves upon cocktails, then retired to the aft 100 deck for a barbecue supper of pork loin and black cod. One couldn’t help but wonder what the Corps of Discovery supped on at its encampment just down river from the Palouse that chilly October night of 1805—probably boiled roots and dog meat.
We awoke this morning as the Sea Lion threaded its way eastward through a semi-arid canyon of the Snake River. Massive layers of dark basalt rose from either side of the vessel, stair-stepping from the water to the sky. After breakfast, we anchored in the mouth of the Palouse River and explored that tributary stream by Zodiac and kayak.
Lewis & Clark first saw the Palouse River on October 13, 1805, shortly after running a 3½-mile rapids that Clark described as bad and dangerous. There, Clark said, the river narrowed to just 25 yards between large chunks of basalt. That didn’t leave much room to maneuver, but the pine dugouts came through just fine. Still, Clark noted, the party would have made more portages if time were not so precious to them. They paused at the Palouse, poked around in the cliffs and noted that many of the Palouse Indians spent a portion of their year fishing. They also named the river after the expedition’s premiere hunter, George Droulliard.
We paddled and puttered around the now-placid waters of the Palouse, enjoying the multitudes of swallows who return here every spring to build mud nests from the cliffs. We also spotted a coyote, hawks, orioles, western tanagers, osprey, great blue herons, coots, and a couple of lovely snakes that swam across the river.
After lunching on a crisp green salad and a bowl of tomato soup aboard the Sea Lion, we went ashore and were driven across the billowing plateau to an overlook of Palouse Falls, which plunges roughly 200 feet from a precipitous rim of basalt. Impressive as this cascade is, it represents a mere trickle when compared to the vast Ice Age floodwaters that scoured this landscape bare and carved out the oversized canyon that the Palouse now occupies.
We returned to the ship in late afternoon to regale ourselves upon cocktails, then retired to the aft 100 deck for a barbecue supper of pork loin and black cod. One couldn’t help but wonder what the Corps of Discovery supped on at its encampment just down river from the Palouse that chilly October night of 1805—probably boiled roots and dog meat.
