North Bank Trip to Kalama
The Oregon Journal
March 21, 1920

As the season for touring approaches, the road to Seattle becomes more and more of an important item to the man with a car who would fain go far afield at times in search of customer or pleasure. Salesmen who drive automobiles in preference to using trains and their name is legion, are the chief sufferers from bad roads, and at the present time. the road to Seattle, at least as far as Kalama, is no boulevard. Far from it. 

There are two routes that may be taken to Kalama, which is the the jumping off place on the route. One of these is the Linnton road and the, Goble ferry, and the other is over the Interstate bridge to Vancouver and by the Pacific Highway. Both are had, but of the two, the road by way of Vancouver is the poorer. The expense of the ferry at Goble is to be Preferred to negotiating the miles of rutty clay and gravel between Salmon creek and Kalama. 

To ascertain just the condition of the Washington route. The Journal scout party left in a Dort car, sent out by the Northwest Auto company and driven by H. J.  Wareham, well known Dort salesman. The weather was good in the morning. There was every indication that the ground hog had failed to see his shadow and that summer was just over the hill. The fact that this delectable effect was somewhat spoiled during the later hours of the day in Washington has nothing particular to do with it.

There are two ways of going to Vancouver. One of them is through Kenton and out over the fill past the stockyards, or within hailing distance of them if one has a good voice, and in smelling distance or them if the wind is blowing from down the river. The new building where the livestock exhibition was held may be seen in the low ground near the fill, and on beyond the bottom land near the river bears that flooded appearance presenting more or less of a dreary waste to the casual eye, but, betokening creels full of fish of a more or less mongrel breed to the intent gaze of the juvenile fisherman.

Paying the tax at the bridge is a small matter when the money is handy, and running through Vancouver in the early morning hours is no traffic dodging feat, so in good time the members of the party found themselves passing the great high school that is a pride of the city across the river and well on the way out the highway and toward the open country. On beyond the last houses the road takes a dip toward the stream where the fish are born and bred by the state of Washington and where the road commissioners have been lavish with their warning signs of danger ahead if the curves be taken at more than a moderate speed, and then rises again up the hill that used to be a favorite spot for the commanding officer of the first provisional regiment at Vancouver during the war days to call for double time from the safe security of his horse's back.

And Trouble Begins

The stretch of saving reaches to Salmon creek, where the iron bridge spans the stream, and then the trouble begins. The hill is not so bad and for a short distance beyond the road is in fair condition. But at the intersection of the road from Sara the eye is cast along the tangent head where a profuse succession of ruts and old mud holes have been built by winter travel. A turn to the left will lead on to Sara, and there is a long stretch of paving to be enjoyed. 

If the motorist has no particular end in view other than a day of driving under as pleasant circumstances as possible, it is advised that this route be seized upon without delay. But no such luck for the scouts. Theirs was to do or die, and events have proved that they did. But that road! Words known to Noah Webster in his more high-brow moments fail to give an accurate description thereof, but the country surrounding the road amply made up for any little roughness of travel. 

There are farm houses scattered along the route and all of them bore the signs of Sunday and activity prior to going to church. In one place a quartet of boys, safely behind the barn and out of eight and earshot of their parental guardians, indulged in an early game of baseball, with the odds for enjoying the game being heavily in favor of the batter, who was giving the two fielders all the exercise they wanted.

Full of Suggestion

On beyond a man with an axe and a predatory gleam in his eye was approaching the chopping block with young but exceedingly lively chicken in one hand, his movements full of suggestion and his intentions all too obvious. That family undoubtedly dined on succulent fowl that day and perhaps the preacher of their faith graced the feast. In another district a farmer with an apparent plan of starting the spring plowing on the morrow was in the implement shed, oil can in hand, busily greasing what machinery he needed for the process and anxiously examining a half dozen plow shares left over from last year. 

A dog of uncertain ancestry played the part of an active assistant. Crocuses there were along a path or two, and jonquils and daffodils, braving the frosts of early March and willing to risk their necks to help scare winter away, rose with their yellow and green blossoms and tines here and there. In a fence corner a calf was daintily sampling an old shoe, one eye on the house door and the other on the road, and a mind wrestling with the problem of what distant relative had gone to help make the footwear being thus cast away.

Scenery is Attractive

As the car bears the brow of the hill above La Center the road changes some what in appearance, being patently of last falls newness, and becomes a trifle smoother. There is a real "S" curve that one takes down the hill toward the town, probably one of the best figures of that port to be found on the highways in this, part of the country. The engineer ran true to form, and the curves are well constructed, the grade is easy, and the surface of a sort that may be subject to argument on both sides as to its smoothness. The long bridge into the town is next reached, and the car runs past the old shingle mill and over the stream where, the good ship La Center lies at anchor, nearly wide enough to fill the stream; or else the stream is of such narrowness as to be almost filled by the craft. Visitors may say one thing, the natives of the place another.

Road is Better

A glimpse at some new and highly painted farm machinery in front of a store and a run down a lane of curious eyes and La Center is in the rear, the car is climbing the hill road beyond, and one remembers Woodland is the next town. From La Center to Woodland the road is better consisting of well-packed gravel and clay that makes a good surface and permits a faster and pleasanter pace. 

The Dort had navigated the bad stretches with credit and on the smooth miles toward Woodland fairly ate up the distance. Between La Center and Woodland some of the best bits of scenery along the trip may he seen, The road rises up toward the heights and off to the left one may see the Oregon side of the river, separated from the low pond land nearer the road by a fringe of trees bordering the Washington bank. 

There are coves and sandy, beaches in abundance, places to tie up a boat and camp or have a quiet fish, far from the maddening crowd's scrambling effort, and so forth. The valley seemed to be getting its green cloak on again after the winter of discontent, of perhaps the eyes of the party were a little bit too optimistic. This is new road through here. but the old way may be seen rambling about among the hills and gullies to the left and right like a tramp very much down at heel and out at elbow. 

New Road Rebels

In one place even the new road had decided that the burden of travel was too great and had started its slide toward the river. A temporary bridge spanned the washout and afforded safe though cautious passage. A long bridge spans the stream separating Woodland from the rest of that part of the world, and the road swings to the left, over the high viaduct, and so on into the town. The river stretches away to the left and right, the rocks in some cases covered with logs, and one long piece of timber perched rakishly on a permanent boom, a reilc of the times of high water. 

Giving a cold shoulder to the village, for the way does not go through its center, a stretch of concrete leads away to the right, only to be forsaken before a chance to be enjoyed as the highway swings once more to the left and the final lap toward Kalama is under the wheels of the car. The road for a portion of the way is surfaced by creek gravel taken from the river near Woodland by the insatiable steam shovel, operating on ropes from the steam plant at the point where the traveler leaves the concrete road. This affords dry travel and will perhaps be quite smooth and enjoyable in the course of time. Farther on is the end of this gravel and the real road construction going on for some time in the region of Martin's Bluff is felt beneath the car.

Word Used Advisedly

The word "felt" is used advisedly, for the highway becomes a succession of bumps, generous in size and making up in height what they lack in depth. The going is soft and rather unpleasant in time of rainy weather, such, as we have been having lately. It is easy to see the amount of work that has been done on the stretch. In one place a fill across the low ground has cut off some thousands of yards of travel, and in another, half a hill has been moved to give easier access to the wheels of motor cars.

Along the railroad a cement wall prohibits too great familiarity with the Union Pacific tracks which parallel the way for a few miles. After the point of last construction is past, the road becomes slightly better and from about the 40 mile mark on into Kalama shows some improvement. Taking everything into consideration however, this route is not the one advised. When Kalama is reached, the best way to get back is to ferry across the river and take the road from Goble. Of the two, the Oregon route to Goble is the one recommended. North of Kalama the road, is undergoing construction to Toledo, at which point the paving begins and the way is in excellent shape from that town to Seattle.