Youthful Memories Shine Light on Celilo Life By George W. Aguilar Sr. At the pebbled Salmon-Head Beach, Grandmother looked for small, smooth, flat rocks, and she showed me how these flat rocks were thrown onto larger ones. This was an attempt to split them in half to make a stone head for the hide-tanning stick. The gentle licking of the water waves created by the afternoon summer western winds are still there, but the Salmon Head Beach no longer exists. The area is now a landing place for wind surfers. It is elders aged 60 years or older that keep in mind of what it was like prior to March 10, 1957. The huffing clatter and rumbling of the black smoke-spewing, coal-steam engine locomotives coming around the bend were seen and heard during this era. During these blistering late hot hummer and early autumn days, the clamor of some moccasin wearing, Sahaptin speaking children was every where. The sounds of the great Celilo Falls thundered, and churned out foamed water against the basalt rocks. The visiting tourists told of the splendor of the spectacular sites of Celilo's foaming wild river through their photography. The bothersome buzzing of house flies gave way to the whispers of the evening's caressing, cooling winds. During the night hours, fast-paced, taunting, gamboling sounds and the bombarding of wooden clubs beating on boards, reverberated off the towing basalt bluffs.ghosts of the fishery live only on photographs and in minds and hearts of the old ones 71 years ago. To be continued Incoming and Outgoing messages protected by Trend Micro PC-cillin program