Backchannels and Frontlines: Exploring the Willamette River’s wild within reach, and why personal connection is the key to protecting Oregon’s most essential river.

It’s a slow, sleepy awakening as my mind tunes into the punctuation of birdsong. My eyelids squint open and begin to focus on the quiet shimmer of early morning light on the Willamette River. From the comfort of my tent, pitched near a cottonwood grove just above the riverbank, the chorus of wrens, warblers, and kingfishers calls to me like a greeting. I sit up and take in the summer canvas just outside my screened doorway—a floodplain in bloom, sprays of purple camas and lupine scattered across the understory, alive with color and movement. A dragonfly hovers at the edge of my vision, then freezes, its iridescent wings catching fire in the rising sun.

Photo courtesy of Michelle Emmons

There is nothing quite like waking up on the river. The Willamette carries a rhythm that is both ancient and immediate, connecting everything from remote mountain headwaters to the broad, low valleys of Oregon’s most densely populated corridor. Despite its proximity to nearly 70% of Oregon’s population, the river still offers a sense of remoteness—a rare intimacy with nature and self.

The Willamette is a river of contradictions: deeply impacted by human development and industry, yet still home to abundant wildlife. I’ve encountered countless avian sightings: eagles and ospreys diving for fish and asserting territory, great blue and green herons, egrets silently stalking prey in perfect statuesque form. I’ve seen deer swim across backchannels and witnessed the explosive crossings of elk herds in the upper reaches of the Middle Fork. I’ve felt my heart drop as a sturgeon breached near my canoe, so large it felt like a small whale surfacing out of place.

The Willamette delivers an endless cycle of unexpected encounters with nature. Beaver slides line the muddy banks. Tracks of raccoon, coyote, fox, and even the occasional bobcat tell the story of nightly visitors. It’s all right here in our backyards, if we only slow down enough to notice.

What makes the Willamette truly special is that, despite its grandeur, it remains a remarkably accessible river. For most of its 187-mile mainstem, flows are relatively gentle from late spring through early fall, after the high-water season subsides. With a bit of research and preparation, anyone can experience this waterway firsthand. Online tools like the Willamette Water Trail trip-planning website and paddle guide, Oregon State Parks’ Willamette Greenway and National Water Trail designation, and the Oregon State Marine Board’s river recreation tools—including a river hazards map—offer guidance for paddlers of all levels, from day-trippers to multi-day adventurers.

Yet, enjoying the river safely requires respect—an understanding that the river, while inviting, is a dynamic and often unpredictable place. Each journey begins with thoughtful preparation: wearing a properly fitted personal flotation device (PFD), checking current flows, and mapping out access and take-out points in advance. This ethos of safety and awareness is central to many organizations working on the river. Among them, Willamette Riverkeeper—a nonprofit dedicated to protecting, restoring, and celebrating the Willamette—offers hands-on educational programs like Learn to Paddle and guided River Discovery trips. As Co-Director and Upper Willamette Riverkeeper, I have had the privilege of leading and supporting these efforts not just as a professional, but helped to cultivate a broader culture of safe, informed, and inclusive river recreation across the watershed.

These experiences aren’t just fun; they serve as a gateway for fostering a stewardship ethic. Time on the river garners appreciation and understanding for its needs. And make no mistake, the Willamette has needs. Floodplain development, stormwater pollution, legacy toxins, and habitat degradation all threaten the health of this lifeline. River advocacy groups like Willamette Riverkeeper work year-round to defend the Clean Water Act, challenge polluters, and fight to maintain and improve public access to Oregon’s waters.

Cleaning up the Willamette. Photo courtesy of Michelle Emmons

For communities along its banks—from Eugene to Portland—the Willamette is more than a backdrop. It provides drinking water to over 300,000 Oregonians (according to the Oregon Health Authority). Its waters irrigate thousands of acres of farmland that feed our families and fuel our economy. And its role in Oregon’s recreation and tourism economy is massive; from angling and paddling to birdwatching and riverside camping, the Willamette is a place of connection.

These connections are deeply personal and have shaped my values and working capital through memories embedded in my soul for a lifetime. I remember one summer evening, watching my husband fish for bass in a quiet backchannel as the sun slid behind a bend in the river. We had paddled there earlier that afternoon, gliding past dancing dragonflies in the heat, their vivid blue and orange colors tracing dizzy loops in the humid air. Later, I heard the distant hoot of a great horned owl and watched stars stretch over the canopy. In those moments, time slows. It is here, in this recollection, where boundaries between work and purpose, and body and landscape, begin to dissolve.

For Indigenous communities, this river has always been central. The Kalapuya, Clackamas, Molalla, and other Tribes have lived—and still live—along the Willamette for thousands of years, relying on its seasonal flows, wetlands, and rich resources. One of these resources, wapato (a starchy tuber used as a staple food), once flourished throughout the Willamette Valley. Today, conservationists have begun restoring habitat for wapato, including targeted removal of invasive species that crowd out native aquatic vegetation. These efforts aim not just to restore ecosystem balance, but to honor cultural heritage.

The river also serves as a living laboratory. Willamette Riverkeeper and partner organizations regularly monitor water quality, advocate for resources to remove legacy pollutants, and engage in floodplain restoration to allow the river to meander more naturally. This isn’t just for wildlife—it’s for resilience. As climate change drives more erratic weather, restoring wetlands and side channels helps buffer floods, recharge aquifers, and sequester carbon. Yet, it’s not enough to protect the water. We must also protect how we experience it. That means ensuring public access isn’t lost to development or privatization. It means advocating for boat ramps, camping facilities, and safe passage through urban and agricultural corridors. Willamette Riverkeeper continues to lead on these fronts—not just in litigation or policy, but through on-the-ground engagement and community science.

And what does all this mean to me, personally? It means that every time I step into a canoe or explore a new backchannel, I do so with reverence. I think about the people who stood in these same places centuries ago. I think about my neighbors upriver and down. I think about the people who have never paddled but deserve the opportunity to connect to their river in the way that only river travel can provide. And I think about my own sense of purpose: to connect people, sustainability, and the great outdoors. To coin a phrase, water is life.

Stewardship on the river also means humility. When camping along gravel bars or riverbanks, I pack out every scrap of waste. I build no fires during dry seasons, relying on a small stove or shared meals. I want the next person—and the next creature—to find it just as I did: wild, vibrant, and full of life.

The Willamette invites us to listen. It offers solace, yes, but also a call to action. As Oregon grows and pressures on natural resources mount, we must decide what kind of relationship we want with the places that sustain us. I believe we can choose one rooted in reciprocity, respect, and joy.

So I keep paddling. I keep watching. I keep waking up with the birds and falling asleep to the hush of moving water. And every moment I spend on the Willamette deepens my gratitude—for this river, this place, and the chance to protect it for those who come next.

Willamette River Sunset. Photo courtesy of Michelle Emmons