Voyage of a Summer Sun: Canoeing the Columbia River FROM THE PUBLISHER
On the morning of June 18, 1990, high up in the Canadian Rockies, Robin Cody pushed his sixteen-foot, forty-seven-pound Kevlar canoe through tall grass and mud to launch it on peaceful Columbia Lake, the nominal source of the river that heaves more water into the Pacific Ocean than any other in North or South America: the Columbia. For the next eighty-two days, Cody would steer his canoe around massive dams, through killer rapids, and across reservoirs the size of small states, plunging 2,750 feet in 1,200 miles and passing right through his hometown of Portland, Oregon, before reaching the open sea. Undertaken with no particular goal in mind, with no great point to prove, the solo voyage would churn up myth, memory, and unexpected truths about the magnificent natural phenomenon that dominates the landscape, economy, and spirit of the Pacific Northwest. To the tent-dwelling canoeist, animals play an often funny, sometimes scary, role - bear, moose, coyote, beaver, deer, osprey, heron, loon. But, as Cody soon realizes, "nature, in real time, is not a dependable entertainment." Untethered thought takes over, and human contact, human language, is craved. Cody's cravings are met by a host of colorful riverfolk: Virginia Wyena, the grandmother of seventeen who pronounces for him the unspellable Wanapum name for the Columbia; Wayne Houlbrook, a would-be adventure guide and actual companion through daunting Redgrave Canyon; Mary Yadernuk, a seventy-three-year-old trapper of the old school; Ben Seibold, a "wood butcher" on hand for the raising of Grand Coulee Dam during the Great Depression; Lucille Worsham, who counts the fish swimming by her station down in the bowels of Bonneville Dam; even a couple of anonymous gossiping teenagers in a hardware store. A consummate listener, Cody learns that few are satisfied with the contortions the modern Columbia has been made to undergo for the sake of hydraulic and nuclear power, and that the environment is indeed in grave cris
FROM THE CRITICS
Publishers Weekly
On June 17, 1991, Cody launched his 16-foot, 47-pound Kevlar canoe on Columbia Lake, high in the Canadian Rockies. Eighty-two days later, he beached the canoe at Astoria, Ore., completing his voyage on the Columbia River. Cody (Ricochet River) gives a sparkling account of his adventure, interweaving historical detail and natural history with childhood memories of the river. Despite its 14 dams, the Columbia has formidable rapids; its huge reservoirs, buffeted by strong winds, present a hazard to small craft. Day 39 found Cody at Grand Coulee Dam, his halfway point. There he visited an elderly couple who had observed the construction of the dam. As he passed the Hanford Nuclear Reservation, he was startled to see abundant wildlife on the nation's most hazardous nuclear waste dump. Cody notes that in two generations, the Columbia has been shackled and turned to human use; his journey was, in part, to observe both the natural and man-made systems. Readers interested in nature will find this irresistible. Illustrations. Author tour. (Mar.)
Library Journal
Like Ben Bachman's Upstream: A Voyage on the Connecticut River (LJ 2/1/85), this is a well-written account of the land, culture, geology, and history of a river. Cody's three months of paddling streams and reservoirs, portaging huge dams and dodging rapids began as a search for "connectedness-what the river is to what it was." His water-level perspective, though, forced concentration on the present. He describes rather than concludes and does not preach, but he believes that the various changes humans have made to the river have also changed a large part of the world around it. Animals, people, fish, and history mingle with Cody's own background in this pleasurable, personal account from a journalist/author native to the river he affectionately portrays. Recommended for public libraries, especially throughout the Pacific Northwest.-Roland Person, Southern Illinois Univ. Lib., Carbondale
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