Among the storied waters of Oregon, the Yamhill River garners faint praise.  In Oregon people speak of the Rogue, Santiam, Deschutes and the Owyhee in a reverent way.  We speak of our last adrenalin pumping run through Blossom Bar on the Rogue and the haunting, otherworldly landscape of the Owyhee, a river that can be run only a few months a year but which captures your imagination for a lifetime.

In my backyard of McMinnville, meanders the Yamhill River which serves as a functional workhorse for local farmers to irrigate the crops.  I’ve lived along the Yamhill for many years and have never been on the water.  It is slow-moving, filled with chemicals from neighboring farm run off  and often muddy during the rainy season.   In many ways the Yamhill is a hard used and often polluted waterway. 

This past week I purchased a kayak.  I’ve long borrowed or rented and finally I’d bought my own.  It is a 14′ kevlar coated beauty designed to glide along lakes, wide rivers and ocean estuaries.

Yesterday I went on the water with my friend David who has a lovely, hand-built wooden kayak.  We only had a few hours and he took me to ‘one of his favorite rivers’, the Yamhill.   I decided to put my doubts aside and trust David’s recommendation.  We slid our kayaks into the river at the Dayton  Landing.  What I discovered was a beautiful stretch of water.

For the next few hours we had the river to ourselves with the exception of Great Blue Herons, hawks, falcons, butterflies and jumping fish.   I discovered that the river I’d ignored for the last 20 years offered beauty both subtle and dramatic.   Beauty that I had thought could only to be found elsewhere.

As I took my new kayak out from the water I knew that David had introduced me to a river with many stories to tell and gifts to offer.  The Yamhill River put-in  is only 15 minutes from my door.  Beauty and adventure await.   Who knew?