We were up early and after a
fine Vahsholtz breakfast, started on our way to Camas which lies between
Washougal and Vancouver. Hope you have
your walking shoes on Dewey commented, because it’s miles inside the mill if
you want to see everything. I let him
know I was up for the walk. I wanted to
see everything. We pulled into the
parking lot and found a spot close to the office and Information signs. We were given hard hats, a map and a permit
that contained many rules and warnings.
After signing the guest book we stepped into a world of action, noise
and an incredible array of equipment.
This was going to be an exciting experience.
We started where logs are
pulled from the mill pond, debarked and washed.
From there the log went down a chute to the chipper resulting in a roar
not dissimilar to the planer in the Industrial Arts shop but ten times
louder. When we moved away so I could be
heard I asked Dewey if we should have picked up some ear plugs. He indicated that was the most noise we would
hear, so the plant didn’t furnish them and in fact they didn’t want you wearing
them in the rest of the mill. Visitors
needed to be able to hear the warning toot from a fork lift or other device
moving in the same area as pedestrians.
The exception was for workers in those high noise areas. They were required to wear protection for
their hearing.
We followed the process from
the production of chips into pulp and then the separation of the cellulose,
which eventually resulted in a large stream of paper emerging from huge machines. Rolling, drying and cutting of the paper were
just a few of the processes that transformed it into the many different
products found at the end of the line. I
was particularly impressed with the variety of large machines that accomplished
this transformation and the synchronization between them. Large rolls of paper that looked to be 6 feet
in diameter and 8 feet in length were moved easily from one station to the next
with fork lifts. There were clearly
marked areas and walkways that pedestrians were asked to use. Once you strayed out of these areas the fork
lifts and tractors pulling trailers of material would lay on their horns to
clear their right of way. It didn’t take
much of this humiliation to keep you in the pedestrian areas.
The final station on our tour
was the warehouse and shipping. As we
entered a huge building the hustle and bushel continued unabated as fork lifts
roamed up and down the long isles between shelving. Some were depositing freshly produced paper
product on specific shelves that reached to the rafters. Other fork lifts were selecting items from these
shelves and transporting them to the loading dock where a fleet of trucks were
being loaded. No sooner was a truck
loaded and departed, but another truck took the empty spot. The whole operation functioned with the
smoothness of a well organized library, but with enormous size parcels and a
high level of noise. We watched the
various paper products come and go in an apparent balanced condition of supply
and demand. The Camas mill, the largest
of the Crown Zellerbach Company produces 400 kinds of paper products.
With heads spinning from the
crush of activity, we stepped out of the building into the calm of a sunlit
plaza. It was in the heart of the
company structures with a pleasant view of the river and mountains beyond. Dewey asked if I could eat a bit of
lunch. Glancing at my watch I was
shocked to see it was almost two o’clock.
The tour had been so fascinating, it had absorbed a greater part of our
day. I was hungry now that it had been
mentioned, so we found a food center that the work force depended on for a
quick meal any time of day or night. The
food looked inviting and after making our selection we headed for tables under
a large shade tree. It was perfect and
we didn’t waste time before sampling the food.
It was so pleasant in the
shade and with our stomachs full, we hesitated to move. Finally Dewey suggested we stop by the
Washougal woolen mill store on our way home.
I asked him what a woolen store was and with a twinkle in his eye he
proceeded to rib me about my Montana roots.
”You know what sheep are and where wool comes from I’m sure, and you
probably know what a store is, so what part of woolen mill store don’t you
understand?” I assured him I did know about
the parts of the statement, but was curious as to where the sheep were, having
not noticed a one in our travels around these parts. Also, I responded in jest, “there have been stores
of brick and stores of wood, but none have I seen out of wool.” With that we grinned at each other and called
it a draw. “Come on, I’ll show you a
woolen store,” Dewey said.
It only took a few minutes to
get back to Washougal and there it was, the Pendleton Woolen Mills: Washougal.
On the way back Dewey explained that the main mill was in Pendleton,
Oregon, south of the Tri Cities. This
mill was in a large building behind the store.
Our tour started in the mill where we saw the state-of-the-art dye processing;
such vivid brilliant colors were being used.
Spinning and weaving were the next steps that lead to the finishing of
distinctive Indian blankets. The next
stop was the mill store where an array of menswear, woman clothing, blankets
and fabrics could be seen and purchased.
The tour didn’t take long, but the beauty of the products opened my
eyes. I remembered people at home
coveting their Pendleton jackets and shirts.
People could purchase the fabric and make clothing too. I wished I had money to buy something to send
home to Mom.
*Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 1, Growing up in the country", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.
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