Port of Kalama

Port of Kalama, Washington / January 2026

The sun sliced down on Interstate 5 in warm, blinding, golden rays. Traffic flooded out of Portland. At about 9 o’clock on a Friday morning, the blue sky and crisp, cool air promised the perfect day for exploring Kalama Washington for the first time.

At the bottom of the I-5 off ramp, two signs declared a choice. Left to Port of Kalama, right to Kalama. After months leading up to that point of seeing the Port from the Interstate, the decision was made: left to the Port of Kalama.

Traffic disappeared. Two, maybe three vehicles passed by on the narrow industrial road that led to the port. Weekend peace claimed the atmosphere. A man strolled blythely along the roadside, walking his two dogs. To the left, an eagle sat atop an enormous pile of mulch, quietly observing the Columbia River and the treetops of Oregon beyond.

The Ahles Point Cabin came into view first, a little rustic bar that wouldn’t open until 3pm. Parking lots started appearing from there, little pull-in spots off the road that looked over the broad expanse of the river. People walked along the bank, some down on the shore picking through the driftwood, while others kept to the paved sidewalk.

At no cost to park, picking one of the lots to pull off in was merely a question of distance from the formidable Mountain Timber Market.

The outside air iced through the lungs and pressed through clothes, but the gleam of the sun contrasted the morning chill with radiant warmth. Few people occupied the public area, excluding the occasional runner who enjoyed the quiet views along the riverbank.

Gliding in almost perfect silence, a cargo floated down the Columbia, boasting of Kalama’s still very alive business of industry and export.

A steel gangway caught the eye first, open for public use to a certain point. Crossing to that point allowed a downward view of the deep water and an outward view of the Columbia from a more panoramic perspective than could be gained from the shore. On that gangway, a person could enjoy the privilege of being uniquely positioned between a Washington bank on one side and an Oregon bank on the other.

Immediately upon returning to solid ground, a pair of magnificent totem poles towered watchfully overhead, missing only the tallest one which lay mounted in perpetuity in the Mountain Timber Market. Just beyond that stood the Kalama McMenamins Harbor Lodge, the prominent hotel and bar in town. The warm, dark exterior housed a cozy gift shop, where visitors could find novelty stickers and coffee roasts, among an extensive array of other trinkets and souvenirs.

Breakfast in the bar proved to be a repeatable experience in a number of ways. Many patrons seemed to be regulars, posted up in comfortable booths with laptops and their own coffee mugs standing by to be refilled by the chipper bar tender who balanced a series of duties behind the bar as well as the wandering role of waiting tables. Other patrons sat at the bar, nursing coffee cups and keeping the bar tender engaged in conversation as he worked.

After a burrito that made a fantastic breakfast and a fully satiating dinner as well, there was more to see. The gleaming golden sun in the pristine blue sky, glinting off the peaceful surface of the river, necessitated a short rest on one of the benches that were placed periodically along the sidewalk. While sitting there, on the banks of Washington, staring at the branches of Oregon, a few older gentlemen strolled past. One of them offered a kind word, a hospitable smile.

Runners jogged past. Dogs and walkers leisurely passed by. Another cargo ship floated its way downstream. Very few cars traversed the nearby road, and the marina provided a quiet buffer between the riverwalk and the interstate.

It was a perfect, relaxing morning at the Port of Kalama. I left with every intention of coming back next time I made my way through the area and seeing a little bit more of it.