Glaciers & Geishas

The old proverb says that a cat has nine lives. Valdez has more. It has created or re-created itself more times than anyone can count. In 1899 Stampeders disappointed in the Klondike were led by rumors of gold nuggets the size of hen’s eggs to come here at the head of Prince William Sound to a place called Valdez The only problem was that there was no “here”—here. There was not a store, no building, no village, nothing. There was only a vague reference on a 200-year-old Spanish map of a place called Valdez. Quite a few of the gold miners gave up, they had had enough, but a few continued to hope. These prospectors had to create Valdez from nothing. They built a tent city here and continued to follow their dreams.

Valdez became a boom-town, the jumping-off place for prospectors heading up the Valdez Glacier to mythically rich deposits of gold and copper in places like Gulkana and Klutina Lake. Although the Chilkoot Trail into the Canadian Yukon had been difficult—fatal for many—the still hopeful Stampeders who arrived here from the Yukon had no idea of the difficulties that lay ahead once they reached Valdez. First they had to inch along the Valdez Glacier using ice axes and crampons, hoping they did not fall into a crevasse before they reached the murderous Chugach Mountains. They left horrendous tales of deprivation and disease. If hypothermia did not kill a man, starvation and scurvy did. Even if a man got through to his destination, some committed suicide once they found that the promises of gold and copper were lies. Most gave up. Many thought it was the end of the world. For some, it was. It got so bad that the U. S. Army finally sent a unit here to feed the Stampeders, bury the dead, build a hospital and to hack a tiny one-horse-wide trail up to Copper Center. The only ones who prospered were the people who stayed behind in Valdez to sell picks, shovels, clothing and supplies to the dreamers. Though some had died, however, death was never the final word for Valdez.

By the time of the First World War, Valdez had become a transportation center for boats and flying machines. Roadless Alaska depended heavily on air transport in the early days, and it still does. Valdez became an aviation center. Around 6,000 residents worked on the docks, in warehouses, and in industries supporting the workers. The population received another boost from the military during World War II.

After the war population declined again. By the mid-1960’s only about 600 full-time residents lived in Valdez. On the afternoon of March 27, 1964, Good Friday, at 5:37 pm residents heard a loud rumble like thunder coming from underground. Some thought the Russians had dropped a nuclear bomb on Anchorage. The ground began to undulate like huge ocean waves, and in just a few minutes four city blocks slid into the ocean, dock workers, residents and their houses going into the earth with them. “Liquefaction” the geologists call it. The crust of the earth becomes fluid. Buildings farther from the docks crumbled, often with residents still inside. Black water gushed up almost a quarter of a mile high through huge cracks that slashed the landscape. Though the quake lasted for five minutes, it seemed like an eternity. It rated 9.2 on the Richter scale, the largest in North America, and the second most powerful quake ever measured. An oil stove fell over and ignited the building that housed it. Flames spread to the nearby oil storage facility and burned for days. Many thought the world was coming to an end. For some, it did. In Valdez 132 people died. Deaths as far away as Oregon brought the total number of fatalities to roughly twice that number. Deciding to destroy the few remaining battered buildings in the ruined town, survivors chose a site four miles to the west, and a new town arose. In Valdez death was not the final word.

In the early 1970’s a consortium made up of Exxon, Sohio, Arco and a number of other oil companies began recruiting engineers, workers, truck drivers and welders for the largest non-governmental construction project in history. The Aleyeska Corporation planned to build an oil pipeline from Prudhoe Bay on Alaska’s North Slope to Valdez, an ice-free port. To do this they had to construct a system that would extend 800 miles, traverse three major mountain ranges, climb over glaciers and waterways, resist damage caused by earthquakes and arctic temperature changes. “And, oh yes,” said the government, “while you’re at it, you cannot damage the vegetation, the wildlife or the permafrost.” A motto emerged among the workers, “We didn’t know it couldn’t be done, so we did it.”

In 1971 Glenda’s father, an expert welder, had his world shattered. His wife left him to live with his best friend. Glenda’s dad considered several options including suicide. Finally, knowing that he had been both a professional welder and a truck driver, he figured he would apply for a job as a welder on the Alaska Pipeline. His world had come to an end, and he thought, “I will just go and start over in Valdez.” He interviewed for the job, but at about the same time, his aunt introduced him to a young widow whose husband had dropped dead on a church league softball field at age 28. With their love they healed each other, and Glenda’s father finally decided that he would turn down the job in Alaska. Although his world had come to an end, he saw the beginning of a new world. He eventually remarried and stayed in North Carolina. Something tells me, though, that had he come to Valdez, he would have fit right in. It turns out that the tendency to start over again, the Valdez spirit, is contagious.

Just as we debarked from the Viking Orion today, Glenda saw a monument to the people who built the Alyeska Pipeline. The statue by Malcolm Alexander depicts an engineer, a mechanic, a laborer, and, prominently, a welder. She sat by that statue and gazed at the welder for some time. I knew what she was thinking: “What if . . . “

As I write this our ship is cruising through a narrow strait at the throat of the fjord on which Valdez sits. On March 24, 1989 the Exxon Valdez, a huge supertanker was exactly here. Just after midnight the pilot onboard finished navigating this strait, and he returned command of the vessel back to Captain Joseph Hazelwood. By his own admission, Hazelwood drank "two or three vodkas" between 4:30 p.m. and 6:30 p.m. that same night, before boarding the Exxon Valdez at 8:25 p.m. His blood alcohol content was found to be . 061. He turned the helm of the supertanker over to a crew member and went to bed. The officer was not qualified to sail a ship in these waters and ran aground on Bligh Reef, rupturing eight of the twelve crude oil tanks. There followed one of the worst environmental disasters in history. The oil slick spread for hundreds of miles, and thousands of birds, fish, otters and other wildlife were killed. Environmentalists from all over the world came to wash the birds and animals in dishwashing soap. The CEO of Exxon said privately to a few friends that the environmentalists’ meager efforts were useless. In a sense, they were. Only a few of the scrubbed animals lived, and many thought the wildlife in Prince William Sound was gone forever. Yet today, somehow the resilient spirit of Valdez prevailed, and today a pristine wilderness survives. Animals and plants thrive here.

Valdez is all about survival.

However, more importantly, after the Exxon Valdez catastrophe, the world changed. The environmental movement caught on, and around the world government policy began to consider the environment more seriously. What had been an afterthought designed to win a few votes now became an important part of governmental policy in many nations—largely because of Valdez.

Incidentally, through a number of plea bargain agreements, Captain Hazelwood was sentenced to 1,000 hours of community service and fined $50,000. He died at age 75 one year ago, September 2022, in Los Angeles.

Repeatedly in the history of Valdez, when it looked as though someone’s world was ending, somehow, against all odds, people spring back to start over again. Valdez has been created and re-created so many times, the people here have lost count. And strangely, this survivalist spirit is communicated to the people who come into contact with this small town. There is the realization that even through tragedy, death is never the final word. Maybe that’s what makes this place unique.

To learn more about the Alaska Earthquake check out the video at:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lE2j10xyOgIMeer informatie