Submerged Forest

Up until the completion of Bonneville Dam in 1938, a ghostly white forest of drowned tree stumps could be observed along both sides of the Columbia River between Cascade Locks and The Dalles. The submerged forest was first mentioned in a geologic textbook in 1853, in “Principles of Geology” by Sir Charles Lyell

“Thus Captains Clark and Lewis found, about the year 1807 (sic), a forest of pines standing erect under water in the body of the Columbia RIver, which they supposed, from the appearance of the trees, to have been submerged only about twenty years.”

Both Lewis and Clark in 1805 and Captain Fremont in 1845 recognized that the trees were drowned by the formation of a lake behind a 200-foot landslide dam.

Penny Postcard, ca.1920s, "Wind Mountain and Submerged Forest, Columbia River".

Penny Postcard, ca.1920s, “Wind Mountain and Submerged Forest, Columbia River”.

Possibly triggered by an earthquake, the dam material slid down from the cliffs of Table Mountain and Greenleaf Peak at a time later determined to be between 1260 and 1290 A.D. The stumps were described in detail by Minnesota biologists Donald B. and Elizabeth G. Lawrence in a series of definitive papers in 1935, 1937, 1937, and 1958. The Lawrences were the first to date the time of the landslide, by caron 14 analyses, as having occurred 700 years before. As of 1936, the Lawrence’s counted 3,068 stumps on the south side of the river, and 938 on the north side of the river. The maximum concentration of stumps on the south side occurs just above the mouth of Viento Creek, where more than 800 stumps were counted within a small area.

Source: John Allen, Professor of Geology at Portland State University, 1985, “Time Travel in Oregon”.

Where Courage Lives

In the corners of the garden, I can see words caught in the geometry of webs that bob and dance in the breeze. I feel the sunflowers ushering poems through the labored

Humming Bird keeping time to the biology of existence.

Humming Bird keeping time to the biology of existence.

bow of growing as they stretch towards the sun. It seems I have forgotten this language, perhaps the taste of regret is to bitter for the tongue. Or perhaps the words were never mine to begin with, all dressed in others hopes and wishes. Who am I without these wayward tricksters? Who am I without these invasive fears? Who am I without these walls of identity?

“Invasive plants were like all evil things; the only way to ensure that they wouldn’t return was to face them head-on, battle it out, and win. Anything else was only a temporary fix. I sighed, thinking of my own life. I was letting the weeds grow all over me. They were threatening my happiness and, in some ways, my life. So why couldn’t I face them?”
― Sarah Jio

I seem to keep courage in a box, only reaching for it when life is set a blaze. My day to day has been ran over by fear, a crippling fear that eats and gnaws at my insides. Like brambles who bribe me with their berries, I allow this fear to grow until I am unable to move at all. I lose relationships to this. I lose myself to this. The garden is teaching me courage of everyday life. And in these times, everyday life is getting increasingly darker, so the practice is appreciated.

Be well Comrades.

Celilo – Wyam 2005 Salmon Feast

Celilo – Wyam 2005 Salmon Feast
Loss of Wyam caused pervasive sadness, even in celebratory events. The old Longhouse is gone. The Wyam, or Celilo Falls, are gone. Still courage, wisdom, strength and belief bring us together each season to speak to all directions the ancient words. There is no physical Celilo, but we have our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and our children bound together for all possible life in the future. We are salmon (Waykanash). We are deer (Winat). We are roots (Xnit). We are berries (Tmanit). We are water (Chuush). We are the animation of the Creator’s wisdom in Worship song (Waashat Walptaikash).

Unknown fishermen, unknown year, unknown photographer.. any information would be appreciated.

Unknown fishermen, unknown year, unknown photographer.. any information would be appreciated.


The spirit of the “Place of Echoing Water upon Rocks” is not silent. We care for the river and the life of traditional unity, the humble dignity, and purity in intention— wholeness. Ultimately, we restore life with our attention and devotion. Each hears the echoing water within.

The leader speaks in the ancient language’s manner. He speaks to all in Ichiskiin. He says, “We are following our ancestors. We respect the same Creator and the same religion, each in turn of their generation, and conduct the same service and dance to honor our relatives, the roots, and the salmon. The Creator at the beginning of time gave us instruction and the wisdom to live the best life. The Creator made man and woman with independent minds. We must choose to live by the law, as all the others, salmon, trees, water, air, all live by it. We must use all the power of our minds and hearts to bring the salmon back. Our earth needs our commitment. That is our teachings. We are each powerful and necessary.”

published in River of Memory: The Everlasting Columbia,Layman,WilliamD.,Ed. UP: WA. Seattle, WA 2006

Soon we will be ghosts.

“…. They didn’t sign away their rainy Eden or sell it, die in warfare, or move to reservations, not until twenty-five years after the catastrophes that swept most of them away. It wasn’t smallpox that laid them low. Suddenly most of them were simply gone. The Wapato Lowlands in particular were empty and silent. Did
12697363_1109859742359005_2764864803838113474_o God call them home? The few survivors walked away dazed. Took to speaking other languages. Were replaced by strangers. After a few decades hardly anyone remembered that they had ever been there.”

Read more of “She Who Watches — Tsagaglalal By Rick Rubin” here: http://www.ochcom.org/chinook/

Listen to the story, ‘She Who Watches — Tsagaglalal’, as told by Ed Edmo:

‘Graffiti’ of the old ones

“I am now old. it was before I saw the sun that my ancestors discovered the Wah’-tee -tas, the little ancient people who wore robes woven from rabbit’s hair. They dwelt in the cliff. My people saw a little short fellow, like a person.

Alfred A. Monner (1953), warns of a dangerous whirlpool in the eastern Columbia River Gorge. Monner referred to the image as his "water devil."

Alfred A. Monner (1953), warns of a dangerous whirlpool in the eastern Columbia River Gorge.

marking the rocks as you now see them. He walked from rock to rock, hunting the smooth places. You see some of the paintings high up upon the wall. We do not know how Wah-tee -tas got up there to do the work. We see it there; we know that it is true…Sometimes the people would see the Wah’-tee-tas once or twice a year, see them in the evening dim, or in the morning before the sun, while it was yet a little dark. The Wah’-tee-tas were spirits, but not bad.”

- Tokiaken Twi-wash (Yakama) told L.V. McWhorter this story in 1912

Whistling of ghosts

“The whistling of a ghost is like no other sound in a fistful of universes, because it is woven of all the whistles

"Old NP Railway"

“Old NP Railway”

the ghost has ever heard, and so it usually includes train moans, lunch whistles, fire alarms, and the affronted-virgin screaming of tea kettles.”
― Peter S. Beagle, A Fine and Private Place