Yesterday I reconnoitered the western end of the Salmonberry River railroad corridor, which can be accessed by road from Elsie. For 12 miles this scenic back road (with vicious potholes at the southern end) follows the Nehalem River down to its juncture with the Salmonberry. The bridge that used to stand here and allowed passage through to Nehalem Bay was destroyed in the 2007 storms, which also destroyed the railroad that goes up the Salmonberry River.
The Salmonberry is one of Oregon’s most beautiful wild rivers, in my estimation ranking up there with the Grand Ronde River in NE Oregon and the Rogue in Southern Oregon. But the Salmonberry has two other attractive features – it’s close to Portland, and it’s infrequently traversed on foot or by water. With the exception of fly-fishermen who prize this stretch of water, or the occasional hiker hardly anyone goes up or down the Salmonberry.
And above all the Salmonberry is gorgeous! This untrammeled mountain river spills its way from Cochran Pond near the the summit of the Coast Range for 18 miles all the way into the Nehalem. If there were one place in Oregon to build a cabin and live off the land, this would be it. few rivers can match the Salmonberry for its sheer beauty and wild environs. This stream shows off all of what’s fantastic about the coast range: its rugged almost rain forest terrain, the emerald pools interspersed by white water rapids, the enormous boulders strewn along the banks, the moss covered cliffs that overhang the twisted course of the stream, and the best steal head fishing in the state. What more could you ask?
Well, for Loki and myself it was a long soak in the Buick Canyon pool pictured above. About 1.4 miles above the juncture with the Nehalem just far enough to have left behind the campers congregated along the Nehalem River… or so I thought. After lounging about in the crystal clear water and sunning ourselves dry on the sandy bank we wandered upstream around the bend. There I was drawn to some level land on the far side that suggested it might have been used by campers. Wondering if there was possibly another route into this point on the river, I explored a bit further and soon discovered a rudimentary dwelling half hidden in the trees on the far side of the river.
Further reconnoitering revealed a steel cable for crossing the river, and a cooler dangling into the river. Using my binoculars I soon spied a rifle leaning ominously on the front door. There was no sign of any rocking chair, coon dogs or a banjo, but it was a reminder that such remote locations can draw people who prize their privacy above all else. Under the circumstances I thought it best to respect that isolationism.
But there is room along the 18 miles of this beautiful river to accommodate all of us intrepid enough to venture off the grid for what ever time we have to spare. And on this day, I could only regret that I did not have more time to spare.
