The natural splendor of the Columbia River is still very powerful. There is no other place in the world quite like it. Though much of the magic and wonder remains, it is impossible to ignore the fact that times have changed it forever. The vivid legends told by the Native Peoples that lined the banks describe a place almost unrecognizable today.
From the realization of Sam Hill's extraordinary visions to Woody Guthrie's timeless odes to hydroelectric projects to the brand new wind farms, advances in engineering have taken hold along the great waterway of the west. The river still has quite a story to tell, but the last hundred years may have left it fatally injured. Until recently, the very darkest chapters were told in hushed whispers.
Nestled along what should have been one of the more scenic places on the lower Columbia was the site of Trojan. This ironically named nuclear power plant led a perpetually troubled existence for years. Busloads of schoolkids were invited to the facility to be seduced by scientific wonder and the promise of energy miracles. On our early sojourns in the '70s, we were indoctrinated into the cult of the atom by a reassuring cartoon character.
As we grew older in a new decade, the toys became more seductive, but we were wiser too. We doubted the plastic smiles under the plastic hats. Perhaps that is why so many of us learned how to crash the computer terminals in the visitors center. When it finally closed, the taxpayers were tricked into paying for the cleanup -- instead of a little company called Enron.
Upstream from Portland, trash from the Canadian border to the Bay Area is brought by train to the Arlington dump. Years past, nobody could have imagined that one of the biggest garbage mountains in the region would be part of the scenery. The facility is so large that it easily absorbed most of the demolished Kingdome.
Speaking of dumps, imagine what WMDs the United Nations inspectors might have found leaking into the Columbia River years ago. A brief tour of Umatilla -- named for a decimated tribe and just a few hours drive upstream from Portland -- would have grabbed their attention in a hot second. The bunkers seemed to stretch on for miles.
In nearby towns, it was hard to hide such a very large and scary monster. Kids in school had evacuation drills every week. They giggled grimly and scurried to underground shelters. In parts of the Gorge and the Big Bend, the frightening rituals of the Cold War were a part of everyday life for generations.
If you moved to Boardman, for instance, they gave you a huge folder of information before you unpacked. In Hermiston, the welcome wagon dropped off a box of goodies the moment you arrived. It included rolls of plastic, duct tape and instructions on how to perform various exercises in futility. The dangers were real, but there was very little information for anyone outside of the immediate area of the Umatilla Weapons Depot.
Further north along this majestic river is the saddest place in North America. Although it had been in operation for some time, the epic and tragic saga of Hanford began with plutonium for the original Trinity Project and later for Little Boy. One morning in 1945, the timidly named bomb murdered the citizens of Nagasaki, Japan.
The grim legacy continued when high level radiation was released over 50 different times to see how it affected the local population. Decades of unintentional spills, releases and other accidents were even more damaging. Today, thousands of warheads on our planet contain a dubious fruit from this rural farming region.
Like their neighbors downstream in Oregon, nearby Washington residents are vigilant about the crying klaxons. They have lost scores of friends and family to leukemia and other cancers. In addition to hosting a pioneering facility in atomic weapons production, many miles along the Columbia River are home to enough nuclear waste to be called the most polluted place on the continent.
Though this natural wonder has benefited recently from greater environmental protection, it will take decades of hard work to make it even a fraction of what it once was just a short century ago. It seems sad and overwhelming, but it can be fixed. The sooner we begin, the sooner our great river will begin to heal. Roll on Columbia!
Historic footage of the Columbia River was sourced from the United States Department of Energy & the incredible Prelinger Archive. All moving images are in the Public Domain.
"Columbia River Ballad" was first released by the Sauvie Island Moon Rocket Factory on "The Blind Slough to Fort Rock" in 2005 . Words & Music written by David Klopfenstein in 2000. Performed by David, Lincoln McGrath & Robert Lee. The Morning Tavern Knuckle Choir sang "Roll On Columbia" by the immortal Woody Guthrie.
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Columbia River Sailboat Wreckby markdartist3,684 views
This is a gem of a video.
pizzamonsterdude 2 years ago