During one of my first excursions to see the cave Aaron Webster took this photo of me standing near the entrance on a little sand bar.

Rummaging through our collection of research articles in the interpretive center library I came across a story that inspired an adventure. In June 1976, the article titled, “Happy summer of ’20 on Peacock Spit” was written by Har Plumb, an individual lucky enough to have spent some time exploring Cape Disappointment over eighty-five years ago. The article describes many of Har’s experiences here while his father was fishing off of the spit. One episode particularly caught my eye.

He described a spelunking expedition at Waikiki Beach as such: “At the foot of the cape was what is now called Waikiki Beach. In the face of the cliff were caves, none very deep but bringing a jump in the heartbeat when we ventured into them. All normal children are part ghoul, of course, and we never gave up the terrifying hope of one day finding a poor drowned sailor or fisherman in one of the caves. But we never did. One day, though, Mother found in a cave, tangled in a clump of seaweed and small drift, a Rosary. Washed from the clutch of a Spanish seaman drowned and sand graved long, long ago, perhaps? My feverish boy’s imagination conjured that and many another theory to explain the prayer beads.”

A couple of weeks ago I had this idea that we should organize an exploring party to investigate the extent of the cave near Waikiki Beach in Cape Disappointment State Park. I had heard a few reports from a variety of sources regarding both the depth of the cave and the depth of water at the base of it. As word passed, more and more people showed interest in joining the challenge. We were going to be as prepared as possible to ensure our success. Everyone was to bring flashlights, cameras, sandals or shoes, and a wet suit if you had one. We scoped out the tides of August and selected the morning of the 10th which had a low tide of -1.7 at 7 AM. The best laid plans…

I woke up that morning much earlier than typical; I couldn’t wait to see what was inside of that cave. As I stepped out of the house to get into my car, it was practically raining. Of course it had to rain, it hadn’t for weeks, but it never fails. I didn’t care too much seeing how I knew we were going to get wet and cold on purpose anyway. As I pulled into the park I caught myself feeling a bit nervous. I took several deep breaths, letting them out forcefully; dragon breaths seemed to raise both the levels oxygen and motivation in my system. Pulling into the Waikiki Beach parking lot I met two brave souls ready to explore. I was expecting almost a dozen people on the tour, but don’t count your chickens…

Over the next few minutes of waiting in the parking lot I realized I may actually have to do this exploration without a wetsuit. This was a sobering thought, as I was well aware the water temperature had been hovering around a mere fifty degrees for the last few days. Regardless of a lack of participants and good gear the five of us walked to the beach we had all been to hundreds of times before. This beach was a place we knew intimately; the cave on the other hand was going to be known soon.

The cave is only accessible at a good low tide; you can actually walk right into the initial opening. We gathered in the entrance, looking at the many-colored pillow basalt walls. At the far end of the cave’s entrance there is a smaller, narrow “doorway” that disappears around a corner. This was the object of our mission- get around that corner and go in as far as we could go. At the floor of the back of the cave was a pool of water that we would have to swim in to see more. Nobody rushed right in; at least none of us standing in our swimming suit or shorts. My co-worker, Susan was the only one of us with a wetsuit on and before we could say “cold,” she was paddling her boogie board over the water, into the opening, and around the corner. Her voice instantly turned to indecipherable echoes. She was seeing what we all came to see.

The rest of us stood waiting, trying to brave the water but stopping short of swimming in. It wasn’t long and we could see Susan’s headlamp floating our way and we anticipated her report. She swore to us that she touched a salmon’s tail back there. She said it didn’t go that far back. She could have told us just about anything and we wouldn’t have known the difference. That is until…

One by one, the males of the group attempted to see what they could see by paddling over the frigid water, trying not to get too wet. We all made it about the same distance before common sense and our survival instinct kicked in. As I paddled out, cold kick after cold kick, I ended up trying to float on the boogie board without any contact with the water. No, I didn’t loose my balance and fall in. I would have maybe seen more of the cave had I actually gotten in the water. Instead I kind of tensed up and all I wanted to do was get back to the beach and into my towel. Call me a wimp, that’s fine, some things in life are just not worth doing if you can’t do them safely. The next time, I’ll be ready, more ready anyway. The mysteries of Waikiki Beach’s cave will have to wait.

he ribbon-cutting ceremony for the Confluence Project sites at Cape Disappointment State Park marked the “significant completion” of the sites which include: the basalt fish cleaning table, the Baker Bay viewing platform, and the Waikiki Beach Day Use Area. Throughout the last century, Cape Disappointment has been the scene of dynamic landscape change. The public art installations of the Confluence Project at the cape continue this tradition. They add another layer to the low-lying area at the park entrance, what some of us call “the isthmus.”
The “isthmus” of the cape has gone through dramatic changes over the last one hundred years. Before the dams were built on the Columbia River, large flooding of the river would inundate this area and make an island out of the southern tip of Cape Disappointment. The Chinooks used the shelter of the cape for seasonal lodging sites that were in close proximity to the resources of both the river and the ocean. When Captain Clark hiked from Baker Bay to the Pacific Ocean, his party used this nearly sea-level passage way to cross, avoiding the climb over the densely forested hills. Clark’s map of the area makes it look like a series of ponds and wetlands throughout the isthmus area. In his journal entry for November 18th, 1805 he described it as being a “neck of Land low and half of a mile wide to the main Ocian.” Fast forward one hundred and ten years later to the construction of the North Jetty.

Jetty Town Rail Tracks

Historic pictures of the isthmus in the early nineteenth century show what we sometimes refer to as “jetty town.” The construction of the jetties at the river’s entrance significantly altered the appearance and ecology of the entire Lower Columbia River; especially where the jetties were built. The collection of buildings, loading docks, and railroad tracks almost filled the entire area we now know as the park entrance. Concrete foundations from this period are still scattered among campsites close to O’Neil Lake. Other visible evidence of this construction period includes the massive jetty itself, of course. The pilings still remain from the old receiving dock near the present-day boat launch. The jetty construction altered the isthmus mostly through the deposition of fill; lots of it. Soil surveys have revealed that there was at least ten feet of fill material brought in to build the isthmus high and dry enough to build on. The impact of this fill modified this strategic “flat spot” into a more usable space.

While Fort Canby was an active military installation at the cape, the isthmus was used to a limited degree. There were a number of support structures built there, but the majority of them were located closer to the present-day Coast Guard Station. When Washington State Parks took over the management of the cape, the isthmus was selected as the prime location for the park’s formal entrance. The park office, park shop, multiple cabins, and campsites were built in the last forty years. The boat launch and Waikiki Beach are both popular day-use sites that act as bookends for the isthmus. Like state parks, the Confluence Project saw these locations as being important historically but also functionally.

What sets the Confluence Project apart from the earlier development of the isthmus is its conscience. Recognizing the cultural and ecological significance of these sites, artist Maya Lin, saw the potential to create art in a very public place keeping function in mind, while still delivering a message. Much of the “development” of these sites is focused on restoration of the historic natural environment as well as recognition of the role of history in our life. Waikiki Beach is a great place to just soak in some sun and do some wading but it now has intriguing public art that will help visitors appreciate where they are in place and in time. The new amphitheater will be used for special guest speakers that will reinforce the themes of the Confluence Project. Fisherman will be able to clean their fish on a beautiful and yet functional basalt fishing cleaning table. The site of the viewing platform overlooking Baker Bay has always been one of my favorite viewpoints.

I’m excited that this area has been restored with native plants and a winding crushed oyster shell path leading to the platform and benches making it a place of contemplation and relaxation. I also love the cedar tree bones that have been arranged in a circle back in the quiet corner of Waikiki Beach. There is a plan to connect the boat launch and Waikiki Beach with an interpretive trail that will focus on the ecological qualities of the Columbia River estuary. The latest layer of development to the isthmus area has really just begun. With additional funding the Cape Disappointment State Park Master Plan will guide further improvements that may include building a new park office, new concessionaire store, additional cabins, as well as relocating the state park’s maintenance shop.

Today is Mothers Day, and as it turns out my mother from Minnesota will be here to enjoy the day with me. I haven’t spent a Mothers Day with my mom for years, primarily due to me living 2000 miles away from her. This year is different. This year I’m going to treat her to the world that I enjoy every day. Throughout my childhood, my family often visited our local parks, especially Flandreau State Park just outside of my Minnesotan hometown. Fond memories of barbecues and campouts have fostered my appreciation for the outdoors and especially parks. Now it’s my turn to give something back. I plan on orchestrating a beautiful day for my mom and I have a few ideas for you and yours.

Why not start the day off right, watching the sun rise over the Willapa Bay. Bring your binoculars and your birding book with you and park at Leadbetter Point State Park. From the southern parking lot you can take a short hike to the bayside. The last few times I’ve walked north along the bay I’ve followed huge elk tracks that were squished into the mud. If you get there early enough you and your mother may actually be able to see one of these beautiful animals. I could almost guarantee that you’d see at least one bald eagle, three herons, and a smile on your mom’s face.

After you get back to the car, I would suggest bringing out the Thermos of hot coffee and a sweet roll or two before driving south. There are many different options of what to do next, but why not enjoy a picnic lunch at a historic fort. The open hillsides of Fort Columbia State Park offer great views of not only the fort buildings, but also the Lower Columbia River from Astoria to Cape Disappointment and beyond. I’d find a nice sunny place to see the wildflowers peeking out from the edges of the mowed lawns. Granted, your mom may not be into the old concrete batteries and guns, but you just never know. Mothers can surprise you; they have spent so much time looking out for your interests that you rarely discover theirs. As you explore the grounds, casually sharing your love of history and the river; listen closely to your mom, she may reveal a long lost memory. There’s something about spending quality time in a scenic place that seems to bring out these moments.

After lunch and a walk, it’s time to visit the cape.

If your mother is anything like mine, then she probably received a better education about the Lewis and Clark Expedition in school than I did. Just because she stills says “Sacajawea” instead of the newer pronunciation “Sacagawea” doesn’t mean she’s “stuck in her ways.” If you haven’t been up to the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center for awhile, I’d take your mom up to see the new exhibits. If she’s already seen them, I can almost guarantee she hasn’t seen the temporary exhibit “Graveyard of the Pacific.” This collection of shipwreck photos, artifacts, and stories is worth spending some time with. The local heritage of life at the confluence of a huge river and the Pacific Ocean is enriched by these tragedies. Don’t forget to stop in the bookstore in the center. No doubt your mom will want to pick out some postcards or a sweatshirt or something else to remind her of the special day.

By this time, if you or your mothers aren’t totally exhausted, then you may have the motivation to finish the day in just the right way. I wouldn’t blame you if you went to the port of Ilwaco or up the highway to do some dinner in one of our many fine restaurants, but how about grilling up some burgers down by Waikiki Beach. This is one of my mom’s favorite places to soak up the view. The waves crashing against the rocks, the lighthouse standing guard, the birds cruising all over. Be sure to save some time to drive up to the North Head Lighthouse to catch the sunset over the ocean.

What a day, starting with the sun rising at the northern most tip of the peninsula and ending with a sunset at the cape! Obviously, your mom probably doesn’t have the stamina to pull a full day like this off. I don’t honestly know if I could find the energy myself. My point is that there are many fantastic things to do in some awesome parks. I’m sure that any mother would love to do any one or more of these activities with you. So why don’t you ask her and make some memories for her to hold with her until the next great Mothers Day adventure.

It’s been a pleasure reading William Kobbe’s “The Birds of Cape Disappointment” which chronicles his ornithological observations at the cape from 1897-1898. The field notes that he kept reveal not only the species of birds found in this area over one hundred years ago, they also give us a glimpse of the historic cape and it’s natural environment. The real beauty in this historic research is when the author shares a vision of the landscape such as when he described the Gambel’s Sparrow perched on the top of a young spruce tree with its, “plaintive song rising above the roar of the ocean while the wind almost blew it from its swaying perch.” The following are just some of the sixty-two other birds that were noted as part of Kobbe’s study.

Dark-bodied Shearwater: Very rare. One specimen of this bird killed on May 6, 1898. It was an adult female and the following entry was made in my notes concerning it: “Puffinus griseus: Killed on May 6, 1898 at Fort Canby, Washington, mouth of the Columbia River. Sex and age: Female adult. Measurements and colors: 16×41x12 inches. Eyes were dark yellowish brown, almost black; bill dusky bluish horn color, blackening along culmen; toes and tarsi bluish. This specimen was given to me by a surfman of the U. S. Lifesaving Crew at this place, who killed it with an oar, after driving it up a against a fish net.” This species is said to be abundant near Tillamook lighthouse, which is about twenty miles south of Cape Disappointment.

White-crested Cormorant: This Cormorant is a very abundant species during the entire year, but especially so in the winter and spring. They are rather wary birds to hunt, but may always be shot while sitting upon the stakes which support the fish pots. They sometimes perch upon these poles for hours and oftentimes may be seen with their wings half spread, by which means they dry them. Although the birds remain throughout the summer, I did not find them nesting upon the numerous cliffs of the cape and am certain they do not breed in this locality…

Violet-green Cormorant: The Violet-green Cormorant is only found upon the cape during the winter months, when it is very abundant. It arrives in the fall and departs rather late in the spring. During its stay upon the cape it associated with the White-crested Cormorant and the two species may often be seen perched upon the fish-trap poles in large flocks. Both species frequently fly into the fish pots from which they are unable to escape, since they are unable to fly vertically upward. It is an easy matter for the birds to fly from the poles downward into the square pot formed of netting, but after they once get in they are forced to remain and are generally killed by the fishermen.

Oregon Ruffed Grouse: Not abundant; although with a sufficient amount of labor these birds can be found. It took me nearly a month to become well enough acquainted with their habits to obtain even one or two a week. These Grouse are only found upon the cape during the fall, and the utmost care must be exercised in hunting them. They are extremely fond of the small wild crab apples which grow in the low, damp woods. The birds visit these trees very early in the morning and late in the evening, at which times they may be found silently perched upon the branches. As the generally hear you approaching before you discover them, they are nearly always seen in a motionless attitude, ready to fly at the slightest sound. It often happens that the first intimation a hunter has of the presence of a Grouse is a startling commotion among the branches overhead, the rapid whir of wings and the bulky form of the bird as it hurls itself through the woods!

Cliff Swallow: Quite a number of these birds were seen in the summer of 1898 and one was shot and identified. I also observed many swallows nesting in the caves on the ocean side of the cape which were probably referable to this species. It was impossible to identify them, since the caves were almost pitch dark, and the birds mounted high in the air as soon as they left them.

Over the years the names of some of these birds have changed but many of them can still be found while visiting Cape Disappointment. The cormorants are certainly a well-known resident of the cliffs directly below the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center. I have yet to see a Ruffed Grouse in the area but would love to find that grove of apple trees and try to watch them watch me. A new great place to see loons and grebes is the Baker Bay viewing platform at the north end of the boat launch parking lot. I invite you to come out to the park and find your own favorite place to watch the birds!

More birding information locally:  http://www.funbeach.com/attractions/birding

Birding Forum:  http://www.funbeach.org/forums

Yes, a storm it has been, and been, and been, and been… we’re supposed to be having another round of it tonight. Not that I’m complaining; unlike our usual winter storms, these have been gentle and colder than normal. That translates to SNOW and a good amount of it, too.

Long Beach, Washington Pocket Park
Keleigh Schwartz for funbeach.com

Beach Sledding
Wendy Murry for the funbeach.com photo contest

These pictures above were shot last weekend although that’s how it still pretty much looks in Astoria, Oysterville, Surfside and parts of Ocean Park. There’s still snow on the ground in Long Beach, Seaview and Ilwaco, but it is slowly fading.

Oysterville School House
Angela Pierce for the funbeach.com photo contest

The bridge over Beards Hollow offers a great vantage of the wetlands as well as the coastal forest making it a valuable location for spotting a wide variety of birds near Cape Disappointment. (photo by Jon Schmidt)

Recently, I introduced readers to William H. Kobbe’, a lucky young man who spent two years at Cape Disappointment over one hundred years ago. Kobbe’ wrote at least two articles for “The Auk,” a journal of ornithology. “The Birds of Cape Disappointment” was published in this journal back in the fall of 1900. Kobbe’s knowledge of bird species was far superior to my own; I have never claimed to be a “birder.” His observations intrigue me most when they reference the geographic locations of his sightings. I do however; also find myself amazed at the richness of bird life and their seasonal occurrences at Cape Disappointment. It’s fun too, to compare Kobbe’s observations with the species I see frequently throughout the year, and others, that I have never seen here, yet.

The following is a list of entry’s William Kobbe’ made for “The Birds of Cape Disappointment.” The species and their descriptions found here focus on those birds we should be able to see at the cape now or in the near future.

Western Grebe: This species is abundant throughout the winter months, arriving soon after the rainy season begins in September or October and departing in March or April. It was the only species found by me upon the cape and much preferred the bay to the fresh water lake formed by the heavy rains.

Canvasback: This is the only species of the subfamilies Anatinae and Fuligulinae which may be said to really inhabit the cape, with the exception of the Scoters (Oidemia). The Canvas-backs arrived in November 1897, and remained until the following March. There were immense flocks of them upon the bay, but after a few months they became very ‘fishy’ and unfit for the table.

Surf Scoter: A very abundant species. One of the first Ducks to arrive in September and the last to leave in April. Feeds extensively on mussels and always swallows the shells, some of them being empty or else filled with mud. When rowing upon the bay on a bright, or at least not stormy day, large flocks of these Ducks are often frightened at the approach of the boat and take to wing, only to settle a short distance ahead. Upon these occasions the loud whistling of their rapid wing beats can be heard a long distance, a half mile or more if the weather is very calm.

Varied Thrush: The Varied Thrush or Oregon Robin is a very common bird during the winter, but departs to its breeding grounds with the advent of spring. In habits it is much like the common Robin.

Great Blue Heron: Not abundant. This species is sometimes seen in the fall of the year, but its scarcity is quite natural since the cape is not at all suited to its wants. The individuals seen by me were either perched upon the fish-trap poles or else wading in the lake.

Wilson’s Snipe: During the fall of the year this species is sometimes abundant and at other times rare. There is only a very small marsh upon the cape where they are to be found and which is hardly suited to the habits of the species.
Over one hundred years later, Cape Disappointment is still a great place to watch birds, whether it’s up on top of McKenzie Head watching eagles or down at

Benson Beach watching the gulls. The next time you visit Cape Disappointment State Park, try to imagine what it would have looked like when William Kobbe’ was out trampling around the rainforest or paddling his raft in the bay.

More birding information locally:  http://www.funbeach.com/attractions/birding

Birding Forum:  http://www.funbeach.org/forums

The other day there was one of the most incredible storms that I’ve been able to enjoy since moving to the peninsula over four years ago. I was pleasantly surprised to wake up with electricity on in the house so I could make my coffee. That night it sounded as if the ocean was pounding at our door, “you’re supposed to be over a mile away,” I thought to myself while lying in bed. As I drove to work that morning my little car was noticeably difficult to keep going straight. Pulling into the shelter of the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center lower parking lot it was difficult to expect what this storm was like up on top of the cape.

Walking the paved pathway up, I noticed the red alders dancing and the spruce trees swaying. That bright orangey color of freshly broken limbs spotted the hillside. The half dozen or so old granddaddy alder I passed along the way are the survivors of decades of such storms. Oh, the stories they could tell. I’ve heard them speak before, the alders make these groaning creaking sounds but I haven’t been able to translate them as of yet. As I reach the top of the paved switchback path, the site of Battery Harvey Allen reminds me of the dozens of men who lived on the cape over the years. The Chinook chose sheltered bayside coves to find their respite in, out of the storms. The living conditions for some of the coastal artillery troops at Fort Canby were another story.

Right near the front entrance of the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center there is a trail head for the Cape Disappointment Trail which follows the ridge of the cape and down to Waikiki Beach. Less than fifty yards down this trail, you can find the now abandoned dormitory, former housing for the men responsible for the operations at Battery Harvey Allen during both World Wars. Amazingly enough the building is in decent shape; it has yet to be crushed by a giant spruce or alder tree. I’m sure there were many nervous sleepless nights that passed in there. When I’m done with my day at the center, I leave the pretty precipice; sixty years ago it was a different story. Oh the stories those men could tell, of nights being literally rocked to sleep by the coastal winds slamming up against rock.

The storms are one thing and the situation is another. The historic dormitory is at a similar elevation as the Cape Disappointment Lighthouse. The white light of the rotating lantern would sweep across this old building every thirty seconds, all night, for years. As those former troops would stretch and drink their coffee on the front porch of their housing they could see the sun rising over Bear Ridge and onto Baker Bay. Or for a change of scenery they could walk a few feet and look out over the ocean. I think a lot of the men whose job it was to operate the gun batteries and observation stations. There job was to watch the horizon and wait, and of course be ready at all times, just in case. Not to belittle their intent, but the job does sound rather romantic; at least the view was and still is.

The season and its storms bring special moments both outside and inside of the interpretive center. As the winter sun sets through the collection of clouds and rain a half hour early, the rays sometimes hit the prisms of the first-order Fresnel lens in the viewing room at the center. The effect produced from this phenomenon is a splattering of dozens of mini-rainbows being scattered around the walls and ceilings of the gallery.
Also in the gallery, there is a hanging mobile composed of former floating glass balls which collect the sun and produce an interesting glowing effect. Of all the names for this area, the Sunset Empire seems to be one of most appropriate and if there was a castle for this kingdom, the interpretive center would be a deserving candidate. Come on up to visit us for a sunset soon, you’ll feel like royalty. By the way, if you figure out what those alders are saying, let me know, there’s a few questions I’d like to ask them.

The Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center is open year around, from 10 AM to 5 PM. Admission is $3 for adults, $1 for children ages 7 to 17.

The old dormitory for Battery Harvey Allen still stands, surrounded by alder, spruce, and elderberry trees in all stages of growth and decay it has withstood many severe storms over the decades.

In my attempt to find documents describing the historical conditions on the Lower Columbia River I recently found a gem of a source. The Oregon Historical Society Press published “So Far From Home: An Army Bride on the Western Frontier, 1865-1869.” This book, released in 1993, is composed entirely of letters written by Julia Gillis to her family who lived in Washington D.C.. Julia’s husband, Jim, was a captain in the Army who was sent to Oregon and Washington Territory in the mid-1860’s. They were stationed at several forts in the region, including nearby Fort Stevens, which was located west of Astoria, Oregon.
The letters are charming in many respects; her explanations of frontier life and her longing for home and family. One of the aspects that attached me to the character of Julia is her insertions of advice to her family, particularly those in regards to getting outside. As you will see from the quotations that I’ve selected this advice was founded on her personal philosophy that fresh air and walking in it were crucial to maintaining good health. The fact that she stuck to this advice, even in the climate that we both endure and enjoy, somehow resonated with me.

Fort Dalles, Oregon, March 9th, 1866
“I had a pleasant ride today and a walk afterwards, and a tramp over the hills yesterday. In fact, not a day passes that I do not spend several hours outdoors with Jim whenever he can be spared from his office, and when he cannot, I have Mrs. Steele and Fannie…The pure air of our hills keeps one fresh and well, blows away colds and other ills.”

Fort Dalles, Oregon, April 26, 1866
“I think sunshine makes one feel better in spite of oneself. Not a window in our house possesses shutters, and the sun will shine in everywhere, and I think does a great deal towards keeping us well. I read an article the other day on the subject, which endorsed the idea and said the revivifying influence of sunlight was wonderful, even restoring to health and vigor paralytics who were exposed to its rays without clothing.”

Fort Dalles, Oregon, March 2, 1866
“I think the more you go out the better for you physically and mentally, for the mind needs relaxation as well as the body. Never mind inclement weather or mud. You will take colds at first. Don’t stay in for them, wrap up and paddle out. Put on men’s boots when the mud is above your knees and still go out. That is what we do, and I am getting fat and rosy.”

Fort Stevens, Oregon, January 6, 1867
“I have just come in from a pleasant walk and must write my weekly letter. Yesterday and today we have the loveliest weather that I suppose Fort Stevens ever experienced. At least nobody who is here now remembers it. The mild air, the blue sky and bright sunshine seem almost like a glimpse of the East. The river and bay look as calm and blue as the sky and several vessels ran in this morning, thankful no doubt for such a propitious moment to cross the terror inspiring waters of the Columbia bar. Cape Disappointment looks as if it had crept several miles nearer than usual and the misty blue hills beyond stand out today bold and clear against the sky. I can see each individual tree on Scarborough Head, a point said to be seven miles across the river. This atmosphere is very unusual, we are generally glad to see outlines of the opposite shores.”

Fort Stevens, Oregon, January 13, 1867
“The sun is shining a little now, and the ground is whitened with a faint attempt at snow and hail, but the latter makes as much snow as the former, however it looks white and cheerful and I like it much better than the rain. We succeed in getting a little walk almost every day running out between the squalls.”

Fort Stevens, Oregon January 20, 1867
“And now our Nannie must get sick. She must take a strengthening tonic and a long walk every day, rain or shine, and when I get home, like a firm physician I shall enforce my prescription so she better begin at once. There is nothing like outdoor exercise. To it I attribute my remarkably good health. Though we live on the stormiest point in the whole United States according to actual statistics, yet we mange to have a walk most every day, running out between the squalls.”

Fort Dalles, Oregon, May 1, 1866
“I have become a firmer advocate for fresh air even than you, and I never allow myself to remain in the house twenty-four hours at a time and whenever I leave a room, I open doors and windows. We have open fireplaces and wood fires in every room and never shut any doors. I think our good health may be attributed much to it and I have not had a cold in my head for so long that I am afraid my handkerchiefs will fall to pieces in very disgust at never being used. I have a fancy, from the nature of this disease that plenty of open air is a preventative of cholera, and I intend to act accordingly.”

Fort Stevens, Oregon, March 3, 1867
“Yesterday was bright and clear and I took a nice walk and Jim gave me a very pleasant ride afterwards. I am out of doors whenever the weather permits and the Doctor says that this is one reason why I keep so well.”
Fort Stevens, Oregon

March 4th, 1867
“We are really having some sunshine but it is quite cold. I have not missed taking my daily walk for a week. It is wonderful that the weather has allowed it.”
With the advice from Julia Gillis in mind, I’d encourage you to take advantage of the breaks in the weather when we have them. Get outside, take a walk, make your handkerchiefs feel neglected, and don’t forget to wear men’s boots if the mud is over your knees!

Waves roll into driftwood at Benson Beach

If you’ve read only a few of my articles before, you can probably tell that I’m a real history fan. If you’ve read more than a few of my articles over the last two years, you know I love anything I can learn about Cape Disappointment. I thirst for the perspective of time that researching history provides. Beyond William Clark’s description of Cape Disappointment from November of 1805, it can be a challenge to find any documentation of the cape previous to the establishment of the military reservation there.
Just lately, I came across an interesting book written by a Methodist missionary named Gustavus Hines. The book was published in 1850 under the title: “Oregon: Its History, Condition and Prospects: Containing a Description of the Geography, Climate and Productions, With Personal Adventures among the Indians, During a Residence of the Author on the Plains Bordering the Pacific, While Connected with The Oregon Mission: Embracing Extended Notes of A Voyage Around the World. The excerpt I’ve selected to share with you is from the fall of 1843 when Hines was planning on leaving the Columbia River. The storms had another idea.

“On leaving Fort George we were in hopes immediately to pass over the bar of the Columbia, but on arriving at Baker’s Bay the wind became adverse, and, with the prospect of a violent and tedious storm from the south and west, we came to anchor snug under Cape Disappointment, that we might be sheltered from the fury of winds and waves. Though at present it is a most dreary and barbarous looking region around Baker’s Bay, yet, as Cape Disappointment must always be the guide of the mariner into the mouth of the river, and as the bay is the only safe anchorage, and vessels are always more or less detained in passing in and out, this must eventually become a place of considerable maritime importance. This in the only entrepot of the country, and consequently all supplies must pass either way through this channel. This river is the thoroughfare on which must be conveyed everything that goes to and from the interior, and, judging from the rapidity with which the country is filling up, the time is not far distant when steamboats will be flying up and down this river, as they are now seen on the Hudson and Mississippi. Three place offer facilities for the establishment of the grand depot for the country, which must be located somewhere near the mouth of the river. These are the shore of Baker’s Bay, back of Cape Disappointment, the east side of Point Adams, and old Astoria. One of these places may doubtless be contemplated as the location of some future splendid commercial city, say the New York of the west.
While in Baker’s Bay we experience a very disagreeable detention of forty days, during which the storm from the south and west, continued to rage, with unceasing violence. Day after day Captain Humphries and myself would climb to the top of Cape Disappointment, an look off on the broad expanse of the Pacific, and contemplate the majesty of the ocean as she rolled her mountain billows, and dashed them successively against the base of the mighty rock on which we stood. The huge swell, rolling in from the south-west, would break with fearful grandeur the entire width of the channel across the bar of the Columbia, and the thick haze darkening the horizon corroborated the indications of the barometer, that the storm had not yet abated.

Occasionally, however, we were able to extend our walks along the shore north of the Cape, and view whatever of interest presented itself. Here is a cave extending into the rock one hundred and fifty feet, and containing the bones of animals, trunks of trees, and other substances, which the tide has there deposited. The country around presents an aspect wild beyond description.

On the morning of the 31st of January, the wind blew fair from the north-west, and having been detained already beyond all endurance, the Captain resolved to make an effort to get to sea, though from the top of the Cape the mountain swell could be seen breaking across the channel. Accordingly, we weighed anchor, and soon passed Cape Disappointment…”

Gustavus Hines’ descriptions of Cape Disappointment and the mouth of the Columbia River paint a pretty wild scene. He saw potential in the rawness. He envisioned a new New York, fortunately we just have a Coast Guard base and a state park.

Our local headland, Cape Disappointment, is a place of history, natural beauty, respite, and wildness.

Digging through our drawers of files of folders of research, I recently found this charming old newspaper article, titled “The Enchanted Cape.” The article was written by Professor A.W. Devoe and published in the Ilwaco Tribune in 1932. I find myself craving any historical description of our local headland and this piece poetically captures the romantic attractions of Cape Disappointment. The article starts off with an editor’s note that describes the author, Devoe, as being a former Ilwaco High School teacher that was a “keen observer of nature in all its aspects.” The editor continues with a description of Devoe that I hope someone, someday will say about me, “There were few days he did not ramble through the woods or over the hills to North Head.” Through Professor Devoe’s somewhat flowery language we are able to get a glimpse of the cape seventy five years ago.

The dynamics of a rocky cape surrounded by water and its’ powers can be a challenge to synthesize; I think Devoe did wonderfully. “Here a sense of unreality thrills the mind as if this were an oracle to speak to the heart; a shrine where generations of men shall come to marvel like children at tremendous forces in play; the sweep of the Columbia, the daily motion of the storm winds of the Pacific and the fecund powers of nature so evident in the ruthless abundance of living forms. Cape Disappointment! That bold headland stands a challenge alike to the thrust of the Columbia and the momentum of unbroken ranks marching incessantly from the Pacific!” By the way, fecund means “fertile” or “productive.”

Multiple times throughout “The Enchanted Cape” author Devoe refers to the story Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia, which, I discovered through some research, is about the quest for human happiness. A section of the article, titled “Moonlight and Glistening Sands” paints the cape as a place of mystery and enchantment. “Maid of Abyssinia! Sing as in a vision of this magic cape; of moonlight on long reaches of glistening sands that pour round its walls; of its fields of driftwood, the flotsam and jetsam of centuries; of its numberless creatures of the air and water, of its flocks of coot and gull winging above the sea or resting upon the cliffs; of monster whale plowing the seas in the distance; of racing porpoise, of herds of playful seal and of huge black-fish that swim in its boiling kettles. Let me hear again the wild melody of ocean beating his ancient rhythms in the lone caverns of the Cape.”

Anyone who has explored Cape Disappointment’s forests knows that it can be a wild place; much of the park is preserved as a “natural forest area.” If you leave the campground or Waikiki Beach parking lot, chances are you can relate with Devoe’s following observations under the heading, “We Like the Rain.” But let it rain, and let us join the creatures appreciative of life whether in sun or rain…The air is mild. A dank odor of dense forest and the smell of rain pervades the atmosphere. We are conscious of the throbbing breakers on the distant Cape. Over the planked roadway, slippery with the ooze of primitive life form we venture, keen to the coastal wilderness…We enter a spacious woodland chamber, carpeted knee-deep with velvet sphagnum. About us in the eerie light, in beauty and significance are symbols of the forest life, the mossy of mounds of its ancient progenitors, the ivy-covered hulks of these that once stood proudly, and beneath it all is that tangled skein of eager searching root forms feeding upon the ancestral mold.”
Next week we will continue to review Professor Devoe’s explorations and descriptions of Cape Disappointment. My hope is that in the next week you will have an opportunity to take a hike, get into the wild, and smell the rain.