Today we traveled in south central Washington. We spent much of the day exploring the Palouse River near its confluence with the Snake. The landscape here has now become familiar; we need almost to remind ourselves of its extraordinary nature. Everywhere basalt walls of packed columns stair-step up from the river, giving this area an angular and rough-cut look.
We bussed to nearby Palouse Falls. Though impressive at 185 feet, the falls seemed diminutive compared to the bowl into which they drop. Surely, it seemed, such an imposing canyon must have been cut by something mightier than this relatively dinky trickle! Mightier indeed. Like so much of this country, the Palouse Canyon was created by the catastrophic floods that ripped through this area at the end of the last glacial epoch. Looking at Palouse Falls, we were forced to consider again the unimaginable destruction and change wrought by the floods.
As ever, life finds a way to survive and even profit from nature's onslaughts. The bottom of Palouse Canyon now brims with life. Coots dive and patter in the shallows. Salmon spawn. Blackbird nests sway in reedy bowers. And geese, fresh from the North, announce their arrival with trumpeting calls.
We explored the canyon by Zodiac and kayak. Upon close inspection, basalt walls seem pockmarked with intriguing hollows. Sure enough, white streaks on the rock walls indicate habitations of falcons, doves, or owls. Even humans once lived in basalt caves. We saw the site of the Marmes Rock Shelter, where artifacts date from the historic period and back 8000 years! In many places we found mud constructions on the rock walls. These are the nests of Cliff Swallows. In springtime, the river is crowded with birds. They alight in butterfly-like masses at the river's edge to pick up mouthfuls of mud, out of which they build their tidy nests. By now the swallows are winging their way to the insect-filled skies of South America. In a year's course, many creatures come to the Palouse River, traveling by water or air. Their visits, like ours, tie this remote place to a wider world.
We bussed to nearby Palouse Falls. Though impressive at 185 feet, the falls seemed diminutive compared to the bowl into which they drop. Surely, it seemed, such an imposing canyon must have been cut by something mightier than this relatively dinky trickle! Mightier indeed. Like so much of this country, the Palouse Canyon was created by the catastrophic floods that ripped through this area at the end of the last glacial epoch. Looking at Palouse Falls, we were forced to consider again the unimaginable destruction and change wrought by the floods.
As ever, life finds a way to survive and even profit from nature's onslaughts. The bottom of Palouse Canyon now brims with life. Coots dive and patter in the shallows. Salmon spawn. Blackbird nests sway in reedy bowers. And geese, fresh from the North, announce their arrival with trumpeting calls.
We explored the canyon by Zodiac and kayak. Upon close inspection, basalt walls seem pockmarked with intriguing hollows. Sure enough, white streaks on the rock walls indicate habitations of falcons, doves, or owls. Even humans once lived in basalt caves. We saw the site of the Marmes Rock Shelter, where artifacts date from the historic period and back 8000 years! In many places we found mud constructions on the rock walls. These are the nests of Cliff Swallows. In springtime, the river is crowded with birds. They alight in butterfly-like masses at the river's edge to pick up mouthfuls of mud, out of which they build their tidy nests. By now the swallows are winging their way to the insect-filled skies of South America. In a year's course, many creatures come to the Palouse River, traveling by water or air. Their visits, like ours, tie this remote place to a wider world.
