Ask out loud, at a petrol station or a Portland café, for directions to Willamette, Deschutes or Malheur, and you will soon notice that what you see written on the map and what you hear do not match. The first reaction is usually to think locals are «mispronouncing» words that come from another language. The second, more useful one, is to realise it is the other way round: the words are already local.

01 A state that is not pronounced the way it reads

Start with the state's own name. Oregon is said «OR-uh-gun» or «OR-ee-gun», with the last syllable muffled; it does not rhyme with «gone». And nobody knows for certain where it comes from. The oldest reference usually cited is an 1765 petition by Major Robert Rogers, who writes «Ouragon» for a river in the west; the name spread in English from an 1778 book by Jonathan Carver. Proposed explanations include an engraver's error on a French map, an Algonquian word meaning «beautiful river», or a derivation from French «ouragan», hurricane. Oregon Geographic Names, the state's standard reference, finds the engraver's error the most plausible, but the origin remains disputed.

That is the first clue to how Oregon's map works: its most important name is already a word of uncertain origin that someone wrote down, others copied, and the people who live here ended up pronouncing in their own way. The rest of the state follows the same pattern, on a smaller scale.

02 First layer: names that were already there

The oldest layer is names from local languages. Willamette, the river through the most populated valley, is attributed to a form of «Wallamt», translated as «still water»; sources differ on details, and the word is tied to a spot on the river near Oregon City, where the falls on the cover are today. Umatilla comes, according to references, from a village name meaning something like «many rocks». Champoeg comes from a Kalapuyan word for an edible root, the yampa. Wasco is linked to a word for «small bowl», after a rock beside a village. Yaquina recalls a people who lived on that river. Wallowa has been translated as «winding water» or as «fish trap», depending on the source.

What this layer teaches is a limit of method. Those who wrote the words down were, in general, outsiders hearing sounds their language did not have and spelling them with the letters they knew. Then people who lived there repeated what was written. That is why Willamette is said «wil-AM-et», stressed on the second syllable, and not the way a French or English reader would take it at first sight, and Umatilla sounds like «YOO-muh-TIL-uh». The local pronunciation is the form that stuck, not a corruption of an earlier one.

03 Second layer: the French of the fur routes

The second layer arrived with the fur-trade routes, where French was a working language in canoes and camps. From it come descriptive names. Deschutes comes from «rivière des chutes», the river of the falls, and is said «duh-SHOOTS». Malheur, meaning «misfortune», appears in Peter Skene Ogden's 1826 journal as «River au Malheur»; the usual explanation tells of furs cached and lost, though who gave the name and when is disputed. In Oregon English it is said «mal-HYOOR», not «ma-LUR».

A white waterfall dropping between dark rocks, surrounded by yellow autumn shrubs, with a dry, rocky slope behind.
Cline Falls on the Deschutes River near Redmond, in October 2017. The river's name, «of the falls» in French, refers to stretches like this.Bonnie Moreland / Wikimedia Commons / CC0 1.0·CC0 1.0

The Dalles is the most curious case, because it was never even translated. «Dalles» is explained as a French word for stone slabs or, in the French of the travellers, for stretches of rapids between basalt rocks, and the first printed use that Oregon Geographic Names cites dates from 1814. Today the name keeps its English article and is said «the DALZ», rhyming with «pals». Sources do not agree on the exact shade of the French word, and it is reasonable to leave it there: what is kept is the form that usage fixed.

View from a hillside over the roofs of a town with trees; a wide stretch of the Columbia River and dry brown hills behind, under a clear blue sky.
The Columbia River seen from the upper part of The Dalles, with the bridge in the distance, in August 2007. Visitors today find no rapids here; they find the name.An Errant Knight / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 4.0·CC BY-SA 4.0
A calm, dark-watered river between rocks and pines, with a slope of scrub and rock on the right, in an open valley.
The Malheur River crossing a stretch of public land in eastern Oregon, in June 2008. Its name, «misfortune» in French, coexists with a serene landscape.Bureau of Land Management / Wikimedia Commons / Dominio público·Dominio público

04 Third layer: surnames, wagers and an alphabet

The third layer is that of Anglo-American settlers, and it is the most personal. Portland is named after a coin. In 1845, in the most repeated version, Asa Lovejoy, who wanted to call the town Boston, and Francis Pettygrove, who preferred the name of his native Portland, Maine, settled it with a coin toss, best of three. Pettygrove won. The coin, a copper penny from 1835, is kept at the Oregon Historical Society museum.

Another settler trace is in the streets. Captain John H. Couch, a sailor and one of the city's founders, laid out his claim in the northwest and gave the east-west streets names in alphabetical order: A, B, C. What began as C Street is today Couch Street. And it is said «Cooch», not like the English sofa: the surname outranks the spelling, as with Glisan, said «GLEE-sun». There is more: Willamina recalls a settler, Willamina Williams, and Langlois is the surname of another. In this layer, names are people.

A light-rail station sign reading «NW 5th & Couch» in white letters on a dark background, with two illuminated circles below, one green and one yellow.
Sign at the MAX light-rail station at NW 5th and Couch in Portland, in 2015. The street carries the surname of a ship's captain; it is said «Cooch».Tony Webster / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 2.0·CC BY-SA 2.0

05 The fourth language: how it really sounds

That fourth language is the English spoken in Oregon, which took every word from the three layers and applied its own rules. From it come the pronunciations that surprise on arrival. Eugene is «yoo-JEEN», stressed on the second syllable. Coos Bay rhymes with «goose». Tillamook is «TILL-a-mook», with «mook» as in «book». Umpqua is «UMP-kwah». Multnomah is «mult-NO-ma». La Grande is said «la GRAND», with no final «e». Yachats is «YAH-hots». Coquille is «co-KEEL». Philomath is «fill-OH-math». Detroit stresses the first syllable, «DEE-troyt». And Madras, which a local explanation derives from a fabric, is said «MAD-russ», not «mah-DRAS».

One thread ties the four layers together, and it matters most to the traveller: none of those pronunciations was settled by a grammar rule. They were settled by habit, repeated by people who lived there. That is why there is no reliable trick for deducing them. Listening is all that works.

In Oregon, spelling is the archive and pronunciation is the living memory: the first says where a word came from; the second, who kept it.

Between the layers there is also a bridge: Chinuk Wawa, or Chinook Jargon, a trade language that mixed Chinook, Nootka, French and English words and saw its widest use roughly between 1858 and 1900. Words such as «skookum», meaning strong or solid, passed into Northwest English. Today the Grand Ronde community in Oregon keeps the language alive with a programme that includes an immersion preschool and kindergarten, opened in 2001 and 2004, and a dictionary published in 2012.

06 What is usually misunderstood

The commonest misunderstanding is to believe there is a «correct» pronunciation that would come from the source language, and that locals have spoiled it. It is not so. Nobody in Oregon says Deschutes the way a French speaker would, nor Willamette like a word in the original language. The local form is the one used at every petrol station, classroom and radio ad, and it is therefore the correct form here. Pronouncing it «properly» in French sounds like what it is: a foreign accent.

The second misunderstanding is to think this is a politeness anecdote. It has a practical use: whoever asks about a road, a reservation or a restaurant with the name said right is understood the first time, and whoever hears a local say it right knows where the conversation is going.

07 How to read it on the ground

What to do with the names
  1. Listen first, read after
    Before saying a name aloud for the first time, wait to hear it from someone local: the person at the counter, the bus driver, the radio. The local pronunciation can almost never be deduced from the letters.
    ear before eye
  2. Ask what it means
    Many names tell what was there: falls at Deschutes, rocks at Umatilla, a bowl at Wasco. Behind each one there is a landscape you can go and look at.
    the name describes
  3. Notice Portland's streets
    In the northwest the streets keep an alphabetical order (Burnside, Couch, Davis…). If you know the order, you can find your way without a map.
    A, B, C…
  4. Visit the coin's museum
    The penny that settled Portland's name is kept at the Oregon Historical Society museum. A short visit that makes the third layer tangible.
    museum in Portland

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Lucía Montes

Worth Knowing editor — Meaning & Cultural Context · Flowtravel

Lucía Montes interprets the cultural meanings that make a travel experience make sense.