Cruising Westward on the Snake and Columbia Rivers
A thick fog enveloped the landscape this morning, so thick in fact that we couldn't see the other side of the lock chamber at Ice Harbor Dam. We experienced a "first" in this lock as the chamber emptied, filled, emptied, filled and finally emptied for our navigation downriver. Eventually, we left the chamber and crept slowly downriver as soundings of the fog horn echoed off the unseen shoreline. Ghostly figures of barges and even a paddle-wheeler briefly emerged and then were just as quickly consumed by the ubiquitous mist.
Upon announcement of our arrival at the confluence of the Snake and Columbia Rivers, inquisitive heads poked out of door ways and the question of "How can you tell?" was posed. It was a legitimate question. Fog shrouded all around us, however, we could see a faint outline of the trees lining the edge of Sacagawea State Park and the live chart displayed in the lounge verified our announcement beyond doubt.
We picked up speed as we came through Wallula Gap and the fog thinned considerably. The steep basaltic hillsides were bathed in welcomed warming morning sunshine. There wasn't a breath of wind on Lake Wallula and later on Lake Umatilla as well. The waters were filled with waterfowl in rafts numbering in the hundreds to thousands. Undulating lines of birds in flight appeared as scrawled figures of an unintelligible script against the skyline.
As we gazed westward towards the fading light and sunset this evening, we marveled at the twin setting suns as shown in the photograph above and reflected on our own adventures and discoveries this past week.
A thick fog enveloped the landscape this morning, so thick in fact that we couldn't see the other side of the lock chamber at Ice Harbor Dam. We experienced a "first" in this lock as the chamber emptied, filled, emptied, filled and finally emptied for our navigation downriver. Eventually, we left the chamber and crept slowly downriver as soundings of the fog horn echoed off the unseen shoreline. Ghostly figures of barges and even a paddle-wheeler briefly emerged and then were just as quickly consumed by the ubiquitous mist.
Upon announcement of our arrival at the confluence of the Snake and Columbia Rivers, inquisitive heads poked out of door ways and the question of "How can you tell?" was posed. It was a legitimate question. Fog shrouded all around us, however, we could see a faint outline of the trees lining the edge of Sacagawea State Park and the live chart displayed in the lounge verified our announcement beyond doubt.
We picked up speed as we came through Wallula Gap and the fog thinned considerably. The steep basaltic hillsides were bathed in welcomed warming morning sunshine. There wasn't a breath of wind on Lake Wallula and later on Lake Umatilla as well. The waters were filled with waterfowl in rafts numbering in the hundreds to thousands. Undulating lines of birds in flight appeared as scrawled figures of an unintelligible script against the skyline.
As we gazed westward towards the fading light and sunset this evening, we marveled at the twin setting suns as shown in the photograph above and reflected on our own adventures and discoveries this past week.
