Paddling Tilton Canyon

Day 324: With yesterday being September Morn, I wanted to do something special, and although I'd determined that I wanted it to involve the kayak, when I went to bed Thursday night, I was still undecided as to where to go. Lake St. Clair was out because I'd just gone there recently, and none of our other local lakes is particularly appealing. I kept coming back to one location: Tilton Canyon, but thrifty Scot that I am (read "cheapskate"), the $10 access fee to Ike Kinswa State Park raised my hackles. In the end, the lure of the Tilton won. I mean, it's September Morn, right? That would be my gift-to-self. That said, I was not willing to pay an additional $7 to put in at the boat launch, so I put the 'yak on the cart and dragged it 100 yards through the day-use area.

The beautiful portion of Tilton Canyon is rather short, depending on where you start measuring. The true neck is only about a quarter mile in length, but in that quarter mile, the walls rise straight up and are covered with maidenhair ferns. The canyon is overhung with rich greenery (Big-Leaf Maple, mostly), and it's dark and cool and utterly enchanting. A few small trickles descend from unknown lands above, chuckling unseen in their concealed beds. At one spot, the thin veil of a scattered streamlet drops from the rocks in a hundred tiny rivulets, dashing the river's surface with the force of a torrential rainstorm a foot wide and six feet long. By mid-day, reflected sunlight casts coruscating shadows on the canyon's walls, augmented by the trembling of the maple-leaf canopy. Travelling beyond the upper end of the canyon, the river flattens out so much that navigation is tricky even in a kayak. Eventually, the explorer reaches a point where portage is mandatory. I stop here, not wanting to carry 'yak and gear over 300' of round river rocks to get to the next stretch of flat water.

Because it was September Morn and I felt I needed to serve Ma Nature in some regard, I conducted an invasive plant survey. I was pleased to see that the Japanese Knotweed and Spotted Knapweed noted two years ago has diminished and appears to be under treatment by some unknown agency. Much of the remaining Knotweed had been bent, and much of the Knapweed had been cut to remove the flowering heads. Likewise, I noted far less Buddleia, just a few small plants and one large parent bush. However, a new invader is running rampant: Jewelweed. I did not see it here two years ago; now it covers acres (literally acres!) of riparian land.

Before the day was done, I had paddled nine miles on the Tilton and Cowlitz arms, the two rivers which join to form the greater Cowlitz at Mayfield Lake. I'd found a massive beaver dam, circled several islands and put into port on two (neither much bigger than the floorplan of a modest home). I'd shared the Canyon with a beaver, several ospreys, several herons and a tolerable number of recreational boaters (one of whom bottomed out when he tried to go too far up-river). It's not easy to get away from it all on Labor Day weekend, but I think I managed pretty well.