A very deep rumble begins to penetrate my awarenes. I say to myself, "wow, what kind of engine is this?" It must be a huge train with an exceptional load. In a few minutes the engines appear as the train emerges through a stand of cottonwood trees. I count 5, then the train continues to roll on down the line headed toward Portland. I count 94 cars. I have learned to be aware of the different sounds that the trains make. I can recognize the Portland Tacoma Amtrak train, as it is fast, and short in length and light on the rails. The track switching across the channel has its own tune made up of clanks and screeches.
Being alone on board makes my senses more acutely aware, the things I see, the smells, the sights, the sounds, the perceptions are all heightened. Feeling the tide change, paying attention to the wind as it picks up during the night, noticing a change in my visual field and sighting an animal out of the corner of my eye. Being silent and aware brings such fruits. This morning I am lamenting that I have lost my little blue plastic bowl, so I am scanning the opposite shore with my binocs, where I last saw it. Then out of the corner of my eye I spot an eagle flying and beginning to swoop down and catch an unsuspecting fish with its talons. Then out of the blue comes a behavior I have never seen: it gently lands on the water as if he were a seagull. He begins to dip his head in the river and splash the water onto his back. "Oh my gosh," I say to myself, "he's taking a bath". I have never seen an eagle take a bath. "How exciting is this?"
He then preceeds to flap his wings into the water and actually paddle himself over to shore and climbs up unto a tree branch near the water's edge where he preens himself in the sun. He stays there for 20 minutes. Meanwhile I spot 3 other bald eagles flying and landing on various heights of broken tree branches all along the shore. One has a fish that he is eating. What a spectacular scene.
I elected to just use my ice chest this time, but notice my block is dwindling fairly fast, so decide today I'm heading back out of Carroll's Channel to Goble, Or to pick up another block of ice. I decide since I have weighed anchor I will go across the channel to see if I can see my little blue bowl, but after several sweeps looking with binocs I don't see it. I motor over to the a grouping of pilings that have osprey nests on the top of them. Mother and Father are not happy I'm in their area and scream some at me, but I stay long enough to get a picture of the nest. Mother is hunkered down on the egg.
I enter the Columbia and the wind is still blowing but the waves are small. I cross the river and head over to Coffin Rocks, near the old, imploded nuclear tower site. There are 2 eagles soaring in the thermals and periodically landing in the trees on the mainland above the Rocks. I tuck inside and follow the shoreline up to Goble. Its a little marina, RV park, saloon, all of which are terribly run down. I guess a better word might be dilapidated. An old man and lady run the place and they are probably in their 80's or maybe very run down 70's. Its a place you don't want to stay long and the faster you get out of Goble seems to be the wisdom of the river. Today, I had to wait for a very skinny pathetic looking lady to check out her 2 big, bottles of wine, so I took the time to look at the photo area near the door. There was a picture of the owners in their younger years and they were quite a handsome couple. She was sitting in her recliner a few feet away. Her walker and motorized scooter were just outside. She wore her nightgown and robe. There were lots of photos of Bush, American flags, banners about the NRA and a photo of Charlton Heston at a NRA conference. Its a place that might have a gun behind the counter.
Its the closest place for block ice, otherwise I would never venture into the place.
As soon as I got my ice loaded in the chest I was out of there, back on the beeg river and moving quickly down river with the tide and current in my favor. Headed for my peaceful and tranquil anchorage behind Cottonwood island in Carroll's Channel. It all seems pretty quite for a Memorial Weekend.
I see where my anchoring spot is, but now the wind has really picked up in the channel. I motor up to my spot and drop the anchor, but by the time I get back to the helm the wind has blown me over my anchor. This is not what I want.
So, I pull up the anchor, motor back around and will try anchoring into the wind this time. I drop the anchor, and by the time I get back to the helm, the current has pushed me down river over my anchor. With each attempt in 2 different strategies, I have ended up in a limbo situation of not being able to set my anchor. I pull it up again and circle back around to drop it against the current, this time letting out out line and backing as best I can against the wind, which throws me to starboard and land. I wait and see that I am not drifting and the anchor is holding in spite of it not being set. I flex my biceps and show off my strength of 3 re-anchors. I wait for the wind to dissipate at sunset and then set my anchor, knowing it will hold during the night and I can sleep restfully.
