Columbia Chronicles Area Offers Wildlife Just Past The Wild Life

The water-skier at the Crescent Bar lounge said the beach where Quilomene Creek trickles into the Columbia River was a prime campsite.

“We do a lot of partying there,” she said.

It showed. The sandy campsite was littered with beer cans, a pair of warn tennis shoes and a charred fire ring. Toilet paper bloomed behind a boulder.

Beyond the clutter, where boaters seldom wander, the land was broken basalt cliffs and arid canyons.

A hike in the waning daylight showed a mule deer with the velvety beginnings of antlers, a raccoon, two cow elk and a coyote. Mourning doves flushed like pheasants from the wispy tan grass. A snake rattled under a clump of sage.

Thunder boomed and we watched a vertical rainbow form over Quincy, but the rain never hit the beach, where we slept in the open.

Back in the boat at daylight, we cruised slowly, watching hawks ride the thermals. We passed seasonal creeks and canyons named by prospectors and rock hounds: Jackknife Creek, Cayuse Canyon, Chinaman Hat Road, Whiskey Dick Creek (pronounced “crick,” of course).

Then, the highlight: Three bighorn ewes with three lambs scrambling over a trail so perilous that dislodged rocks tumbled 100 feet to the water.

The sun climbed and the wildlife retreated. We turned the throttle to full and skittered over the river to Vantage, the Interstate 90 bridge and breakfast.

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Photo