Saddle Mountain

On a windy day last week Nora the Schnauzer battled one black balloon on Saddle Mountain and came within a few yards of tangling with two gleaming dark river otters three times her size along the Columbia River.
She had a big day, and she loved it.
First, we parked at the saddle on Saddle Mountain.
A steady cold wind from the south whipped up from the Columbia River to buffet the truck with an occasional solid gust.
My wife Darlene stepped from the truck, took a deep breath or two, shivered and said, “You two go ahead. I’ll guard the truck.”
So, Nora and I scrabbled down the rock-strewn path on one side of the steep saddle and up the faint trail on the other side.
Nora lagged a bit because she chased dopey flies that fluttered from the dust. She ate the ones she caught.
Curtains of rain draped from distant blue-black clouds to the north and east.
To the south and west intermittent sunlight turned portions of the winding Columbia River into shining lakes.
I took photos of the panoramas in many directions, as well as shots of yellow arrowleaf balsam root, white cushion phlox (with a white butterfly) and purple locoweed.
Nora, of course, skittered about in every direction, yet she paused often to check my presence.
When I whistled, she raced to me, which turned out to be a good thing later along the Columbia River.
Nora doesn’t drink much, but I carried a leak-proof container with her water in my pocket.
She’s like a horse, though. You can put water in front of her, but you can’t make her drink it.
Anyway, after a couple of hours, we loaded into the truck and started back down the mountain.
That’s when I saw the black cantaloupe-sized balloon bobbing up and down in the wind about 50 yards down the north-side slope.
“It’s probably just a party or advertising balloon,” I said.
Curious, however, Nora and I went to check. When she saw the balloon dodging and swooping, she stopped and barked, a high-pitched little-dog bark.
My jaw dropped. She had not done that before. When I recovered and approached the balloon, so did she.
Then she attacked it.
She leaped at it and missed. She gnawed at the string tangled in the sage.
Finally, using the string, she reached the balloon, clutched it with her front legs, fell on it and bit it.
It popped. She grabbed the rubber to take for a trophy. Stopped by the string in the sage, she tugged a few times and strolled away.
Back at the truck, I said, “Well, it was just a balloon. But Nora slew it.”
Nora, sighing, curled onto Darlene’s lap for a nap.
From there we drove east for a couple of miles on State Route 24 and turned right into another section of the Wahluke Wildlife Area.
We drove to the boat launch near the white bluffs, where a ferry once crossed the Columbia River. We stood before the tiny log structure that was a busy way station in the 1890s
As we headed back to SR 24, I decided to walk half a mile across a meadow to photograph the bluffs.
As Nora ran ahead on a faint path that climbed toward a view above the river, a dark critter loped through the sage way off to my left.
Dark, shiny and streamlined.
“An otter,” finally registered in my head. “A big one.” I snapped off a couple of quick photos.
It disappeared at the edge of the bluff, and I ran ahead for a closer view.
Then a second otter appeared among the sage.
I stopped and aimed the camera as it swerved toward the river.
Then the first otter emerged from the riverside shrubs below and entered the water.
Nora, who stood beside me, spotted it and dashed headlong down the side of the steep 60-foot cliff.
I recovered as she reached the halfway mark and whistled sharply. She skidded to a stop and watched the otter cavort in the water.
I whistled again, and she tore back up the slope.
Then, as I snapped photos of the otter in the water, I ignored Nora.
When I looked around, two dark figures raced off across the meadow behind me. One, the otter, glistened in the sun.
The other, Nora with her ears blown straight up by the wind, closed the distance to the otter.
Not a good thing. I whistled as loud as I could.
Both figures disappeared among the sage, and I whistled again and ran down the hill.
Then, to my relief, Nora burst from the sage, her feet hardly touching the ground as she galloped toward me.
When she reached me, I picked her up. She apparently had NOT caught the otter.
By then the otter in the water had disappeared, and we took a path down to the sandy river bank and checked the otter’s prints, which were three times as big as Nora’s.
I snapped a few shots of the white bluffs from there. Then a white egret flew by and landed near a sqawking blue heron about 200 yards away.
I spent five seconds pondering a sneak closer for photos. Forget it.
“C’mon,” I said to Nora. “Let’s go back.”
Darlene, watching from the truck, probably wondered why we had run up and own the hillside like nuts.
Well, I could explain it easy enough: Just out walking the dog.


If you go
The road up to the saddle mountain is between mile post 60 and 61 on State Route 24. You can reach the turnoff by traveling west on SR 24 from Othello or by travelling east on SR 24 from Vernita Bridge.
The turnoff south of SR 24 to boat ramp on the Columbia River is between mile posts 63 and 64.
Both areas are in the Wahluke Slope National Wildlife Refuge.