Saturday, May 2, 2015

Washougal River Falls

There were many things Dewey wanted to do and show me, but the time was short, so we needed to plan carefully.  The movie was scheduled for the next evening if that worked with the girls.  Tomorrow we would check one of Dewey’s favorite fishing spots, Washougal River Falls.  With that bit of planning we decided to turn in and get a fresh start the next day.

The Washougal River started in the mountains and rushed its way to the Columbia.  With the process of exiting the mountains, it plunged over numerous falls and through countless rapids.  It was a wild little river until it reached the valley of the Columbia and joined that majestic river on its way to the ocean.  As described before, the salmon that reach spawning maturity leave the ocean to return to the location where they were hatched.  They follow the Columbia River into the interior; fight their way up side-rivers or stream until they reach their spawning ground.  It’s a miraculous story that leaves one wondering how they find their way back.  Such energy and determination is exhibited in this journey.




                                               










                                           Washougal River Falls 

The falls we visited on the Washougal River were a challenge for the salmon.  We perched on rocks and scanned the foaming water for fish. Occasionally one would emerge from the foam and struggle against the swift water, moving slowly upstream until it reached placid water.  Dewey had previously fished for steel head along this river and had some luck. A steel head fisherman is a patient and determine sportsman.  You don’t go out with the intension of bringing back a string of fish.  These fishermen think in terms of one or maybe two fish if they are lucky.

The steel head is a silvery rainbow trout that migrates to the ocean before returning to fresh water to spawn.  In this way, they are very similar to the salmon but they grow much larger than the salmon do.  Minimum size is established by the department of fish and game thus allowing the smaller fish to spawn and keep the supply stocked for the future.  There is real celebration when one of the big steel heads is pulled in after a high spirited fight.  A 2-3 foot fish is quite a prize.  The record size reported by some sources is 42 pounds.  The fisherman looking to catch the big one uses heavy line and a sturdy pole.  Dewey admitted steel head fishing is addictive, especially after you’ve caught a big one.

We spent most of the day around the falls.  Mrs. Vahsholtz had packed us a lunch and we found a place in the shade with downed logs for seating.  The lunch was wonderful and the ambiance couldn’t have been better.  The roar of the water made pleasant background music.  We had time to visit and get to know each other.  Even though I had known Dewey for several years, seeing him in this setting with his siblings opened up new insight to his personality.  He was a good guy and I was pleased to be his friend.  There was a lot of kidding going around and I didn’t escape my share.  The Montana sheep herder jokes were sent my way in good spirit.

That evening we went to the movies in Vancouver.  There were four of us; Dewey and his local girlfriend and I had a blind date that was a friend of Dewey’s sister.  She was an interesting girl and we had fun.  It was a terrific movie, The Glen Miller Story.  This made the evening a success.  I recognized Dewey’s girlfriend from the picture he kept on his study table in the dorm, but I felt he was more interested in a coed at Eastern that he had taken out several times.  I felt it wise not to ask him about it while we were visiting at his home.  When we arrived back at his home Dewey asked me if I would like to take a tour through the paper mill at Camas the next day.  I said that would be fine, as it was about time I found out what was making that odd smell.  He laughed and said everyone who lives around here says it smells like home.



*Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 1, Growing up in the country", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.



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