Kelly Point

February 20, 2022

It’s just turning nine and I’m nearing the bottom of my second cup at Caffe Umbria when the phone rings. It’s Rachael, recommending that I look out the window. The sky is blue and the expected rains apparently aren’t due to arrive now until around one. She’s planning on squeezing in a walk shortly while there’s still time, and suggests that I might want to get out myself.

She makes a good point. There’s a serious cold snap coming, and this morning’s unexpectedly clear skies might offer the last good riding of the week. A much better use of the day than shuffling some of our junk to the storage unit, the big item we had on tap for the morning. I slurp down the last dregs and head home, arriving just in time to score a hug before she’s out the door.

A half an hour later I’m out myself and coasting down Columbia to the waterfront. By the time I climb up the east bank after crossing the river on the Steel Bridge and look back, the sky is already starting to fill in.

Looking back at the city from the east bank. It’s an interesting light, giving the heart of town a white cast.

I don’t have a clear plan when I bike north up Williams, headed for the Columbia River. My thought leaving home was to head northeast to Rocky Butte for its views of the snowy peaks and ridges. With the sky starting to cloud over though I’ve no guarantee that the views will be there when I arrive; and if the rains arrive early I might regret having gotten so far from home.

I decide to punt the decision for a few miles until I get nearer the river. Along the way though I pause to admire a few new murals that have apparently sprouted since I was last this way.

The east end of a new block-sized mural east of the Steel Bridge.

And the west end of the same mural. “the worker must have bread, but she must have roses too.”

Jumptown! “The youth right now is the truth right now.”

When I reach the Columbia Slough it’s choice time. The sky is nearly clouded over by now and looking around I can see spots where it might even be raining already. Rocky Butte is definitely out. I turn west along the slough instead because it’s safer by keeping me closer to home. If I’m lucky I’ll make the loop out to Kelly Point and back through Saint John’s; but if not I can turn back home sooner. And, the Columbia Slough is always worth a look no matter the weather or season. There’s always something.

Along the Columbia Slough. Not much sun breaking through at the moment.

Nutria! Just a big rat, I know, but I always enjoy seeing them. Today I like the way the light reflects off the chop and his wake.

So this is new. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of these big guys along this stretch of the slough. And look at that sky!

I’m pleased to see the weather outlook improve, so I decide to continue on to Kelly Point. Along the way, biking the Marine Drive Trail bordering the north side of Smith and Bybee Lakes I’m startled to look across the water and see it half-covered by a broad orange-brown apron - squash, yam and carrot are possibilities, the Color Thesaurus suggests. I leave the paved trail for a dirt footpath to get a closer look. Dirt turns to sand and before long I’m off the bike and pushing, but it’s worth the detour.

I’ve never seen it look like this. It’s pretty remarkable - it looks like you could walk on it.

Some sort of algal bloom? I wonder if this happens periodically here and I’ve just never been on the scene at the right time.

Turtles! There are about fifteen of them sunning on the logs, the first time I can remember seeing them out here. Western pond turtles, Bill?

The blue skies are gone again by the time I reach Kelly Point. I’m feeling lucky though and I’m at the furthest point from home anyway so I decide to take the loop through the small park at the mouth of the Willamette and see what’s on the water today. And I am lucky! I’m just passing below the awning by the restrooms when it starts raining - it’s dry when I pass under it, and raining when I come out the other side only forty feet later. Within a minute it’s pouring so I instantly turn back and under the cover, where I’m quickly joined by four or five walkers and their dogs who crowd in to join me.

It doesn’t last though. As abruptly as it started it stops five minutes later so I hop on the bike again. At the confluence of the rivers I stop for a brief walk on the beach to look around and then decide it’s time to make tracks for home.

At Kelly Point. Five minutes ago it was pouring.

There are always a few tankers queued up by Sauvie Island waiting for their turn to enter the Willamette.

The jetty at the mouth of the Willamette. There is always a cluster of hills and cormorants roosting out at its end.

The Ruby Ace, a vehicle hauler. It’s since departed, bound for South Korea.

Upstream from the Ruby Ace is another massive ship, in the channel between Vancouver and Hayden Island. At the time I thought this was another vehicle hauler waiting its turn, but now I don’t think so. It looks like a different kind of vessel.

I’m still fifteen miles from home when I tear myself away from Kelly Point. I’m starting to feel exposed so I keep a steady pace for the next hour, hoping my luck will hold until I reach home. I’ll need some luck I realize as I look around at the broken, dynamic sky. And I get it - there are a few sprinkles as I bike south along Willamette Boulevard but otherwise I stay dry until arriving at the apartment. Not five minutes later though I’m listening to Rachael tell of her walk up into Washington Park by the Japanese Gardens when I look out the window and see it’s raining now; and a few minutes later it’s pouring and continues for at least another half hour. Perfect timing.

The view south from Waud’s Bluff. It looks like I might be OK with the weather with only another six or seven miles to go.

But I’d better keep a move on. No sense pressing my luck.

Almost home free. Feels like I stole another one from the weather gods.

Today's ride: 29 miles (47 km)
Total: 2,318 miles (3,730 km)

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