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CASCADIA #2: A River Runs Through Them (and it's called the Columbia)
I grew up in Eastern Washington, a stone’s throw from the mighty waters of the Columbia River. We waded on its mossy rocks to better view hydroplanes as they skimmed the surface, dove down to its murky depths for sweet relief in the scorching summer months, and once, I fished out a slick, algae-covered twenty dollar bill just miles away from the place where D.B. Cooper was rumored to have dropped his ill-gotten fortune.
I spent countless hours swimming, floating, boating, fishing, rock-skipping, and exploring its waters; even more hours running, biking, walking and in a few instances, making…
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