LEWIS AND CLARK WALK INTO ASTORIA - by Tim Wintermute

Clinging to a cup of coffee from the Astoria Coffee Shop and a notebook as if they were life preservers, he makes his way through the Cargo showroom near Astoria, Oregon's waterfront.  He feels like he is swimming through a sea of collectibles and curiosities that float like flotsam and Jetsam, toward a raft of tables. Soaked in marine metaphor, he is welcomed by the other writers at the tables. Together, they will undertake a creative expedition called Write Around Astoria.  It seems to him that Astoria is a fitting place for such an exploration since this is where Lewis and Clark's expedition of discovery ended here where the Columbia River meets Pacific Ocean. After fortifying themselves with coffee, bagels and scones the members of this eclectic group embark on their own reconnoiter of Astoria.

 He goes to his car and starts driving trying to get his creative bearing. Several blocks up the hill from Cargo he spots the Labor Temple Diner and Bar on Duane Street. Built in 1926 as a meeting place for local unions it became over the years one of Astoria’s most prominent “dive bars”, which is saying a lot given the competition. After parking outside he enters and sidles up to the counter that is also the bar and sits on one of the empty stools.  Although a beer would be more likely to attract any barfly muses who were hanging out in the place, he orders coffee. Two men in their thirties, one dressed in a checked flannel shirt with a baseball cap trying to contain his rowdy hair without much success and the other in a turned up hoodie, his face mostly hidden by a beard, bushy enough for blackberries. He writes in his notebook, "Lewis and Clark walk into a bar". Surely in the Labor Temple they will order a “working man’s special” breakfast -- beers in long necked bottles along with huge plates heaped with runny eggs, slabs of bacon, slices of toast, heaps of hash browns and another plate stacked with pancakes slathered in butter and syrup. Instead, they order coffees and bagels.  He closes his notebook and leaves.

 After returning to his car he drives to Pier 39 on the east side of town where he crosses the rickety wood bridge that connects the shore to the pier and parks next to the former Bumble Bee Cannery, the last cannery in Astoria to close or abandoned, depending on your level of cynicism.  It has since been "repurposed" into a variety of shops, eateries, and other businesses. He walks past the entrance to the Hanthorn Cannery Museum and into the cavernous space where a half dozen fishing boats are on display, including the “butterfly boats” that once swarmed the Columbia, their butterfly wing sails fluttering in the wind. At the far end of the room he walks out onto a plank deck where he stands in the brisk wind.  He stares at the Columbia as it flows past Astoria, under the four mile long Megler Bridge that looks like it was constructed out of Legos.  After giving the rocky headland of Cape Disappointment a glancing blow the Columbia smashes into the Pacific Ocean with such ferocity that the mouth of the river is called the graveyard of the Pacific.

His gaze retreats to the safety of the shoreline directly across the river, which is in the State of Washington. Douglass Fir, Hemlock and Spruce cloak the hills and all that remains of the canneries and piers that once lined the shore are the black stumps of pilings poking out of the water. It was over there that Lewis and Clark spent a week huddled on a narrow ledge above the Columbia being bludgeoned by a raging gale.  They named the spot Dismal Nitch and it is now, ironically, a highway rest stop.  Finally, with the help of the Chinook Indians they escaped to a safer place a couple miles west. They named it Station Camp and it is now another rest stop, only this one is a Catholic Church. Using that as their base they hiked the last few miles to the end of their trail at the Pacific Ocean.  After exploring Cape Disappointment they crossed the river in Chinook canoes and built Fort Clatsop just south of Astoria where they hunkered down for the winter.  Looking out over the river as he is serenaded by sea lions he pictures Lewis and Clark paddling a canoe toward him. He writes in his notebook “Lewis and Clark walk into a cannery.” 

He drives back to downtown Astoria.  Parking on Marine Drive he walks to Sleepers, a coffee shop at the end of the Twelfth Street Pier. The place is crowded even in the early afternoon. Some of the customers seem to be there on an all-day coffee break in a constant communion with caffeine, making him wonder about the accuracy of the Sleeper motto hanging on the wall that states "we are not a cult." He buys a coffee and finds a seat at a counter at a window where he can see the boats that carry the pilots to the ships where they guide them through the frothing mouth of the Columbia River.  He turns to the entrance to the coffee shop and sees Lewis and Clark walking in.  They rest their long rifles against a wall and sit at a high top. "Lewis and Clark walk into a coffee shop after their journey of discovery to the far side of the continent" he scribbles in his notebook.  Then he checks his watch and sees that it is time to leave and rendezvous with the other members of the group.

He drives to Grace Episcopal Church. He joins the others at one of the long folding tables in the ground floor fellowship hall. Each reads what they have written during their exploration. In a mix of poetry and prose they convey what they have seen through their creative lenses and the prisms of their imagination. When his turn comes he looks at what he has scribbled in his notebook and begins reading, "Lewis and Clark walk into …"