Once in awhile I post an entry that’s not about story but is a story — about my life or something related to my life.

Today I want to tell the story of Kettle Falls, WA, my adopted half-year home that I have been loving since we arrived here a little more than two weeks ago. It’s extremely presumptuous for me to tell the tale as such a newcomer, but I’m giving it a stab anyway because I find the story fascinating.

Humans, according to archeological evidence, have lived in this area for some 9,000 years. In fact, Kettle Falls is believed to be one of the oldest continuously occupied sites in the Northwest. The falls from which the town derives its name plummeted 40 feet into the mouths of huge stone caldrons,” hence, “kettles.” The falls were the site of spectacular salmon runs, where the native people (the Shontikwu) would catch 800 to 1,000 fish a day in certain seasons.

Settlers of European descent, specifically investors from New York, founded the town of Kettle Falls on the shores of the Columbia River in 1890 as a resort town. The resort quickly failed because the railroad bypassed the town.

Still, a very small town continued on the riverbank location until 1938. Kettle Falls was one of 12 (I’ve also read 11) towns scheduled to be flooded by the impending opening of the Grand Coulee Dam. While most of the towns that were to be flooded simply disappeared, Kettle Falls was one of the few that decided to move. So, entire buildings and 300 residents moved in 1938. Kettle Falls annexed itself to the existing Meyers Falls. Later, the blended town voted to change its name to Kettle Falls.

When the Grand Coulee opened in 1941, it wasn’t just the former town of Kettle Falls that was flooded but the actual falls, which have been submerged ever since except in 1974 when the river level was lowered for dam repairs. The photo at left shows a painting of the falls. The artist painted it after the falls were submerged, partly from memory and partly from photographs. I say river, but the water body that resulted from the Grand Coulee Dam is called Lake Roosevelt. It is simultaneously the river and the lake, which can be confusing. FDR had commissioned the Grand Coulee Dam as a Works Projects Administration project, in part to provide jobs during the Depression.

With the submersion of the falls, the salmon runs ended. The native peoples still hold yearly ceremonies mourning the end of the salmon bounty. Ruins of the original town of Kettle Falls on the banks of the Columbia/Lake Roosevelt can still be found, though not easily as Randall and I discovered yesterday when we bicycled the area. Pictured is a pair of steps to a no-longer-existing building. We also saw sidewalks and foundations. Unfortunately, a large National Park Service RV campground surrounds the ruins.

Today, from what I’ve seen so far, the town of Kettle Falls has a big heart and a sense of humor. Citizens annually compete to the elected as the only town “grouch.” The new grouch will be named in two weeks at the annual Town and Country Days. The population on the logo below (from the Kettle Falls Web site) is a bit outdated; according to a billboard at the town’s entrance, Kettle Falls is now 1,640 strong.