Standing next to this ridiculously clear wetland, less than a quarter square mile in size and imagining the mighty Columbia springing forth from here, requires an equally mighty suspension of disbelief. This wetland is fed from underground springs which are in turn fed from the Kootenay River, which is fed finally from the west flowing glaciers of the Columbia Icefield. This icefield is the largest in the Rockies and is nestled high in the mountains straddling the border between Banff and Jasper National Parks, which also separates Alberta from British Columbia, and is part of the continental divide, too. 

We set out on our trip from Portland, and crossed over the Columbia on Interstate 5 heading into Washington. At that point, we parted ways with the river not really giving the Columbia another thought. Our next stop was in Leavenworth, and we ended up staying near I-5 all the way to the road with the pass we crossed into Eastern Washington. A week later when we emerged from the mountains, we found ourselves next to the Columbia in Wenatchee after it has passed through the Columbia River Gorge, and headed into Washington on its journey to the source. A roadside sign proclaimed Wenatchee the apple capital of the world. and looking at the orchards lining both sides of the Columbia, it’s clear the fruit business is highly dependent on the irrigation water from the Columbia. 

The Columbia has 14 dams on the main stem in British Columbia, Washington, and Oregon. Collectively, they generate a significant amount of power for the Pacific Northwest. They also throttle the river and trash the once magnificent salmon runs that were the life blood of the indigenous peoples who have lived near and fished on the Columbia from time immemorial. Near our Portland home, Celilo Falls was one of those lost places. It was a once famous fishing location for the Warm Springs, Yakama, Umatilla, and Nez Perce tribes who fished from platforms jutting over the falls until it was flooded by the filling of the reservoir behind The Dalles Dam.

We passed into Canada and spent our first night at a place called Okanogan Falls, in the heart of BC’s wine country. Up from our campground we watch first nations members from the Osoyoos Indian Band snag sockeye salmon, in a melancholy echo of the ritual at Celilo Falls, from atop the dam that flooded Okanogan Falls when it was filled. 

Our second night found us in Revelstoke, a cute mountain town situated on the banks of the still large but not quite yet mighty Columbia. We noted the repeated brushes with this river as we drove to Fairmont Hot Springs, our last stop before we ventured into Banff National Park. As we settled into our campsite, we prepped to take Neo for a walk and ended up next to this small, placid river at the back of the campground. As we drove home to our camp later that night from the hot springs , we crossed that same river on the main road and discovered that it, too, was the Columbia River, early in it’s life journey. A quick bit of research and I found that we were less than 30 minutes from the source of the Columbia, the wetland that starts it all off. 

We did not plan to dance with the Columbia on our journey to the Canadian Rockies, but we met the river in its infancy, and as it matured and grew in size and stature. 

I have lived and played around the Columbia River my entire life, sailing around Jantzen Beach, fishing for Sturgeon in the Columbia Gorge and fishing for Salmon near Buoy 10, staying in Astoria at the mouth, and crossing the Columbia when it is truly mammoth over to Astoria’s sister on the Washington side, Ilwaco. I have hiked repeatedly in the gorge, and took a family trip as a kid to Grand Coulee Dam. Not once in all those activities did I think about where the Columbia came from. I vaguely knew it came from Canada, but I could not have told you where. 

And that’s the thing with so many of the interactions in our life: Do you notice when magic is just at your fingertips? Do you recognize when you brush up against a story as old as time that fills in lifelong blanks? Do you think about where places, towns, and people came from? I didn’t always before, but I’ll try harder now. As I stood next to that clear wetland, listening to the birds and watching Neo play in the water, I got in touch with the full and rich life of the Columbia River, literally from beginning to end. How many people can you say the same thing about?