Kilchis

The Kilchis River is one of five Coast Range rivers that flow into Tillamook Bay. Prime salmon and trout fishing. Except trout fishing is closed. The pristine water of the Kilchis flows with memories of family picnics and reunions at Kilchis River County Park far up at the end of the winding narrow road; memories of swimming, camping, fishing and photography.
If you look closely, note the rope tied to the tree, on the left side of the photo. Now picture ribby little kids in drooping swim trunks, daring each other to swing and drop into the breath-takingly cold water.

I have some memories of great swimming milestones in this river. Like wading all the way across, when I was about 8 or 9. Wow. Slippery rocks, rushing water, so near-sighted (no glasses then) that I had a hard time keeping my balance even clutching at each boulder with all my fingernails. Looking down was almost fatal, the movement of the water put my balance center totally in panic. I still feel that way - even with glasses.

Deep holes for diving, fishing, swimming - I was always sure that one of those salmon was just waiting to sneak up under me and take a hunk out of my lily-white legs. The first time I actually jumped INTO the water off a boulder was another milestone. Never mind that it was only about waist deep - courage is what you make of it.
Another Kilchis enticement is the abundance of nature, in the form of flora and fauna. Mom taught us about wildflowers, like this wood sprite, a Johnny-jump-up. I never see one without an instant of flashback to learning the name of this little charmer. One of the first signs of spring, in the woods.

The huge old soft maple trees are clothed lavishly with mosses, adorned with Licorice fern. We learned as kids to nibble the ends of the stems of these dainty fern - sad to say, I have never liked licorice. Ever. But the fern are lovely -

The Kilchis alternates between luring deep holes in shades of jade, and stretches of gravel bars where the clear water runs shallow. Water so crystal clear that you can count the periwinkles clutching the stones, where small fry salmon and trout can be seen gliding and darting. As kids, we were mesmerized by the tiny fish, the caddis larva packing their stone camoflage along the bottom, the occasional "teeter bird", and if we were really really lucky, a visit by a family of river otter, playing their way upstream.

During the winter, the river rages along, hosting rogue logs, spreading deep and wide, sometimes over the banks. By spring, it has become more civilized, leaving woodland debris and sand deposits to prove you can't judge it by one season. By the end of summer, the water has become a narrow stream, warmed by sun-baked stones. You can almost feel the river longing for fall rains again. A good winter brings snow to the higher ridges, providing run-off to melt and meld into the feeder streams that make the Kilchis a unique river system.

When the water level falls in the summer, the boulders seen underwater on the right side of the photo will breach the surface, providing diving platforms and warm stone to spread out your towels to lie on, baking out the chill of the water.

Kilchis country is a photographer's dream. Any season.

Just like the beach, Kilchis country is a necessary "fix" when the coast calls me home. I always look forward to at least one drive to visit this Eden and renew memories.