December 1, 1997

Round the Island

Three of us circumnavigated Long Island in Willapa Bay yesterday -- the first annual Winter Solstice Willapa Paddle. A rare combination of perfect tides and calm, beautiful weather made this an easy, joyous trip.

For the uninitiated, the Willapa is a largish salt water enclosure just north of the Columbia River -- one of the last relatively pristine bays on the West Coast of North America. It is an incredible nursery for oysters and other bivalves (two species heavily farmed (ranched?)), a wasteland of thigh-deep mud at low water, and transient home to hordes of migratory shorebirds and waterfowl on the Pacific Flyway. Long Island is roughly seven miles long and two miles wide, running mainly north-south, with the only feasible launch at the south (up-bay) end, and the north end closer to the mouth of the bay.

This means that to circle Long Island, without fighting tidal currents, one has to catch an ebb tide with monstrous holdup (no "lower" than 4.5 feet) so the down-bay mudflat on the north end of the island will be covered with enough water. An error here adds four miles to the nominal eighteen!

George (a new paddler), Kathy (major boardhead and mother of three), and I (the "old bull" of the crowd) hit the water at the crack of 1030. We had anticipated an easy dawdle up and back the east side of the island. Moving steadily northward with tidal assist, spying the odd bird (a common goldeneye) and the usual winter crowd (grebes, loons, widgeons, mallards, and cormorants), we began to debate the prospect of a round-the-Island shuffle. Kathy, the fittest of the three, does real work for a living (she is a landscaper), and George has been doing a lot of paddling the last month or two, so we opted for the long venture. [My excuse? Intense cabin fever!]

To our surprise, we were able to round the top of the Island in much less than two hours and headed for the beach to wait out the low. A nice visit with locals on a back-and-forth shuttle from Nahcotta made lunch social as well as nutritional (smoked sturgeon on jalapeno bagel with a Snickers chaser -- cross-cultural, no?). Major gossip was exchanged and bladders were relieved ... equally satisfying, but to different quadrants of our physiologies. As a squall moved through, we hit the water again, moving south along the west side of the Island. Assisted by gentle following seas and a tailwind, I stroked hard to keep up with Kathy and George jabbering away like magpies squabbling over roadkill!

Shorebirds in close choreography flight complemented brant chuckling and grazing in the shallows. Scooting across oyster beds and spying on commercial clam harvesters, we slid down the west side, pausing briefly to admire the strong side-lighting of the setting (!) sun as we hit the south end of the Island and headed for home.

Tired but happy puppies, George and I hooted our way to the ramp, while Kathy fretted about arriving late to gather in her daughter from the babysitter. Funny how those worries surface only as civilization returns. Sorer but satisfied, I arrived home to Christmas baking and a warm and sensual reception ... next year, I'll get Becky out on the Willapa at Winter Solstice. Water Druids, we be.
---
Dave Kruger
Astoria, OR

Copyright 1997 by Dave Kruger.
May not be reproduced or redistributed without author's permission.
Originally posted on WaveLength mailing list in Dec. 1997.
Republished here with permission.