Photos by Brian and Michelle Davidson

Story by Brian Davidson

In Idaho, the fourth and seventh grades mean Idaho history We leave behind ordinary social studies, which starts with cavemen and ends with Dwight Eisenhower, and study our state in microcosm, starting with the Indians and ending, depending on the teacher, with either the mayor of Idaho Falls joining the Army as a captain during the First World War or with somebody named Beaver Dick burying his family after they died of smallpox.

Somehow, it never got me excited, though it was entertaining to watch the exquisite agony in Mr. Czeip’s class as we struggled to identify the state’s 44 counties on a test. One kid perpetually “broke” his pencil so he could wander the classroom staring at others’ papers as he made his way to the pencil sharpener. I left the lectures with vague notions that some guy named Lewis N. Clark explored the part of Idaho I wasn’t from, and that he had some French guy and an Indian lady along for the ride. Thus are the garbled rewards of teaching.

That’s why it’s kind of odd, as we tooled through northwest Oregon, that I was so excited to see Fort Clatsop.

As with many celebrities, it’s much smaller than you think it ought to be. And it’s had some cosmetic surgery. A lot of surgery. In fact, the Fort Clatsop you see is a replica, built in 2006.

And it’s a man-cave, complete with the rough-hewn furniture (they did have furniture, not having access to futon mattresses and milk crates) dark nooks, near complete lack of wall furnishings and, let’s face it, that odd smell.

I joke. It’s a fascinating place to visit.

First, the forest that surrounds it. Sitka spruce. Very tall, very abundant Sitka spruce. If in doubt, ask one of the guides. They’ll tell you: Sitka spruce. They’re quite sure of it. Where I live, the forests are toothpicks. In this part of Oregon, they’re massive meaty thighs of trees, towering over the paths and sending their python roots far from their trunks.

The fort itself lies in a clearing. As we wandered through the fort’s six rooms, I tried to imagine what it would have been like to live here through a drippy Northwest winter. Gloom, of course. Occasional drips falling through the ceiling. Cold. But certainly better than doing all of that in a tent. They were brave men, living in a shelter they built with their own hands. I have tried that with a playhouse I built. It was not pleasant.

That’s certainly Meriwether Lewis’ opinion, as I discovered reading his journal:

November 28, 1805       

Wind Shifted about to the S.W. and blew hard accompanied with hard rain all last night, we are all wet bedding and Stores, haveing nothing to keep our Selves or Stores dry, our Lodge nearly worn out, and the pieces of Sales & tents so full of holes & rotten that they will not keep any thing dry, we Sent out the most of the men to drive the point for deer, they Scattered through the point; Some Stood on the pensolu, we Could find no deer. Several hunters attempted to penetrate the thick woods to the main South Side without Sucksess, the Swan & gees wild and Cannot be approached, and wind to high to go either back or forward, and we have nothing to eate but a little Pounded fish which we purchased at the Great falls, This is our present Situation! Truly disagreeable.       

They built their new fort that winter, and were much pleased with it. They lived in their six little rooms from Dec. 7 to the middle of March 1806, before starting their return journey to St. Louis.

We, too, took a walk through the thick woods and “stood on the pensolu,” retracing the routes the 33-member party took to get to their landing on the river leading to Youngs Bay and to the spring where they got their water. Along the trail, the spruce mix with Western Hemlock into a canopy that shields you from all sounds except those of the forest: chattering birds, scampering squirrels, hordes of young Oregonians on field trips, probably learning their own versions of Oregon history. I know the feeling.

Getting there: First, travel to Clatsop County, northwest Oregon. Fort Clatsop is on the Highway 101 business route between Warrenton and Astoria. Watch for the signs as you’re traveling, and it’s hard to miss.

What to know: If you’re running late, hurry. The Fort Clatsop monument is only open until 6 pm in the summers, 5 pm in winter.

Admission: As with nearly every state park or national monument in Oregon, there’s a charge for admission. It’s $5 for adults, $2 for children. My advice is to buy a ten-day regional pass. For $10, the pass gets you and your family into up to ten national monuments and state parks along the northern Oregon coast for no additional charge.