River Bend

Day 165: This is the mighty Nisqually, meandering down through the section of its historic course not far from my residence. A few miles further on, it backs up against Alder Dam to form the reservoir known as Alder Lake. Had it not been so obstructed, it would have retained its natural cascades in a canyon etched some 400 feet deep. Further yet, it meets with another obstacle to its progress at LaGrande Dam. From there, it makes its lazy way to Puget Sound. It doesn't look like much in this photo, but when a warm rain follows a heavy snowfall on the Mountain, the Nisqually shows its temper. It spreads out across this plain and beats against the thirty-foot bluff, chipping away at the rocks embedded there. Sooner or later, it will win (Nature always does, you know) and (hopefully much later!) my little house will be swept downstream as the river reasserts its inalienable right to the valley.

There have been seasons when I lay awake at night, listening to the boulders falling and tumbling, propelled by flood waters. I can tell you it is not a comforting sound. I have been stranded by those same floodwaters on what I jokingly referred to as "Ashford Island" when the roads washed out both above and below me, cutting me off from any possible line of escape from their rage. In those times, I hunkered down to weather the literal storm, hoping that it would pass without claiming me. And when Mt. St. Helens erupted in my slightly larger "back yard," I sheltered in place to keep from breathing volcanic ash, the powdered remains of St. Helens' rocky cap. You must do what you must do, not what you wish to do in time of crisis if you intend to be a survivor. Listen up, people.