Tom Bennett circles around a light tower on the eastern edge of Tongue Point down below where I docked my kayak on top of a rock outcrop.

With Canada geese, a blue heron and a pair of eagles a short distance ahead, I paddled through a knee-deep channel of water on the Columbia River. A few paddle strokes farther, and I could pull out my camera.

The moment the thought crossed my mind, one by one, each bird vacated the area as I slowly floated toward a dead end surrounded on three sides by muddy banks rising from the calm waters off of Lois Island in Cathlamet Bay, just east of Astoria’s Tongue Point.

I asked my kayaking accomplice Tom Bennett how far we would have to trudge through the mud to get to open water.

“Five feet through the mud is too far,” he quickly replied.

Considering we had no real agenda in the first place, this initial setback could easily be overlooked as we maneuvered our yellow and red 17-foot kayaks out of the shallows.

Seeing that the weather forecast called for sun on Wednesday, we made plans the night before to take off from the boat launch at John Day County Park at noon, a few hours before low tide.

As with most of my kayaking outings, my goal first and foremost was to get some cool photos without capsizing or dropping my camera in the water.

However, these two concepts often do not go hand-in-hand because I tend to think less about the well-being of my camera when a good shot presents itself.

With a final tightening of a strap around noon, we are ready to head for the John Day County Park boat ramp. I had an outstanding record, making trips to Clayoquot Sound and Barkley Sound on Vancouver Island’s west coast in British Columbia, paddling through wind, rain, rolling swells and choppy, open ocean waters without any loss of gear.

But I also normally keep my camera safely tucked away in a dry bag in one of the storage compartments in the kayak. If I were to drop

a camera into the murky abyss of the Columbia, I might as well not show up for work the next day.

An assortment of kayaking essentials including, from front, a paddle with a leash to keep it from floating away, a bilge pump, dry bag for extra clothes or valuables, a life vest, deckbag for items needed while on the water, and a spray skirt (not pictured) to keep water out of the cockpit, are unloaded at the John Day boat launch. As we backtracked past the John Day River for the sights of Tongue Point, we quickly found ourselves paddling into a strong westerly headwind. With water splashing over the bow of my kayak, photos would have to wait for calmer waters.

From the water, Tongue Point seemed a desolate place as Tom and I passed through the forest of beams holding up the docks that towered over our kayaks.

Sounds of yelling and laughter broke the silence as I came upon a group of Job Corps students in a giant rowboat, paddling in no discernible direction.

Up ahead, Tom had found a deer standing in the grass where the forest met the river. I glided through the water trying not to scare off the deer that was now staring me down.

Bobbing up and down in the water, I was reminded why kayaking is so much fun. Life slows down and your worries drift away. I don’t need to think about newspaper assignments and deadlines or the tune-up my car is begging for.

The afternoon sun shines through the haze Wednesday, May 23, as the hills of Washington rise in the distance. If I were in a motorboat, I would be unable to sneak up on wildlife or float underneath the structures at Tongue Point, imagining what it must have looked like when bustling with activity during its time as a Naval Station.

But then again, I can’t afford a motorboat; so who knows what I would think of while flying through the water.

After we briefly peeked over at Astoria from the tip of Tongue Point, Tom and I agreed to make our way back toward the John Day River.

Coast Weekend photographer Alex Pajunas took this daring self-portrait during a calm moment on the Columbia River. The sun that had left me yearning for sunscreen earlier in the day had been replaced by clouds drifting upriver. I snapped a few last photos as I passed under the train trestle. It stood like a gateway back to tranquil waters and the car.

Pulling up to the dock, I unloaded my gear. I was comforted by the fact that it had once again survived, and that the rain did not start to trickle down my windows until I had made it home and nestled into my couch.

The Lower Columbia River Estuary Partnership has established a water trail Web site with maps showing kayakers where to launch from and points of interest as well as places to stay and eat, stretching 146 miles from the mouth of the Columbia River up to Bonneville Dam. More than 20 launch points are listed within easy driving distance from Astoria.

A raccoon out on the tip of Tongue Point temporarily stops scavenging among the rocks to see what – or who – is drifting by. A deer stands motionless in the grass along the east side of Tongue Point. South of the railroad tracks, an eagle glides along the surface of the John Day River.

Remains of an old jetty protecting the docks at Tongue Point surface during low tide. Students from Tongue Point Job Corps enjoy rowing and thrashing around in the water between the docks. A cormorant spreads its wings to take off from an old pillar exposed by low tide in the Columbia River.