Just Another Jim's

Alaska Journal

Ch. 18: Valdez

Posted March 16, 2007 by James E. Nelson

Our house was 264 miles north of the ocean, straight down the Richardson Highway to mile marker “0" in Valdez. It’s a trip we made a couple of times, but we didn’t frequent Valdez, partly because of the distance and partly because of the rain. We tented when we traveled and putting up a tent in the rain, while a great engineering challenge, is only fun for a few times. We were completely self-contained when we traveled. We had five 5 gal. water containers we had been given for the move to Alaska. We typically carried a couple of those, food, tenting equipment, firewood, axe, hatchet, bow saw, shovel, cook stove, propane, and toilet paper. With that we could stop pretty much anywhere for a meal or for the night.

But before getting serious about tenting I observed how the locals did it. It saved me a great deal of grief, especially when tenting in places like Valdez. I purchased three large plastic tarps. One was quite a bit bigger than the tent. By setting up a series of poles (6', 5'6", 5', etc.) I was able to form a cover over the tent which would drain the water to the low side of the tent. (This step is where the engineering came in.) Once that tarp was in place, a small tarp would go on the ground and the tent would set on top of that tarp. In that way we had a dry tent complete with covered veranda, even in the rain. The third tarp was set up, similar to the first one, but over that back of the Montero (our vehicle) so that we also had a dry kitchen. On a good day my engineering skills were such that we were able to cook, sleep, read, and play cards even if it was raining. More often than not some stake, supporting rope, or tree to which to tie the tarp was not in the right place and the water would either drain the wrong direction or collect in a pool on the tarp. But, in spite of the occasional engineering mishap, we became proficient tenters during our tenure in Alaska.

Valdez is not a camper’s paradise. Being located at the head of Prince William Sound, nearly all the tourist industry is aimed at boating rather than camping. It was great fun to walk among the boats and sit around watching them come and go. It was also fascinating to watch them cutting up the halibut on the docks after a day of fishing. But that was pretty much the extent of Valdez. There were few trails and fewer roads. The only good way to get around was by boat.

And one doesn’t just stop by Valdez for a day on the water. Ocean fishing is not an afternoon activity, it's a lifestyle. Sure, for a hefty fee the tourist can hire a boat and a guide and can try their hand at halibut fishing, but for the average person, fishing or boating on Prince William Sound involved a “personal infrastructure” that was far more complicated and far more expensive than the “personal infrastructure” we had acquired to become active tenters. Besides, we didn’t know nearly enough to make that transition into boating. Both Brenda and I were from Montana, after all. In spite of a trip to Cape Cod and ride on the ferries around Seattle and Seward, we were land lubbers. So we simply observed when we traveled to Valdez.

Alaska was an outdoor culture, but within that outdoor culture there were a series of subcultures: a river fishing culture, a hunting culture, a dog sled culture, an ocean culture. There were also several native cultures primarily off the road system and a hiking and mountain climbing culture centered to the west, along the Parks Highway that ran from Wasilla, through Cantwell, and up to Nenana and Fairbanks. These people along the western highway tended to be politically liberal and environmentalist in their outlook. The eastern route, along the Richardson Highway (where we lived), was far more conservative. It was populated more by the pioneer types who were politically conservative, and much more interested in partaking of the bounty, not just looking at it. The eastern route, along the Richardson Highway, was also the route of the Alaska Pipeline, so those interested in robust eocnomic development related to the oil industry (largely conservative politically) also lived and worked there. Conversely, Denali National Park (also known as Mt. McKinley) was on the western route. Just as the pipeline attracted people with an economic interest in the interior, so Denali, with its booming tourist industry, attracted people with an environmental interest.

In turn, Valdez was a very different world than the two sides of interior Alaska. Here the economic and environmental sides of Alaskan culture—so often at odds with each other—came together to create a cultural mix that was as unique as it was interesting. We lived in Alaska before the Exxon Valdez hit the reef and spilled its oil across the Sound. But those concerns, which became national after the Exxon Valdez, were already present locally around Prince William Sound. Right across the Sound from the town of Valdez was the oil terminal. It’s silent, hulking presence, with massive tankers sliding in and out and over the horizon, could not be missed, even by the casual observer.

Also clearly visible was the aftereffects of the tidal wave that had traveled up the Sound and destroyed Valdez many years prior. Even though the forest and coast had many years to recover, the scars of that earthquake and subsequent wave were clearly visible. As a result, there was a certain potential menace connected with oil industry and all the potential problems surrounding it. I would not say that the Exxon Valdez was a disaster waiting to happen, but with the sheer amount of oil being stored and transferred in one of most idyllic spots on earth, potential disaster was never too far from anyone’s mind: the accident wasn’t totally unexpected. Already, while we lived in Alaska, even though there was still an innocence to the battle, the battle lines between environmentalism, economic interest, and recreation had been drawn in the Prince William Sound.

But none of that was particularly apparent when one spent a day or two in Valdez. Everything touristy catered to the people who owned the boats and everything industrially catered to the pipeline. It was a fascinating mix.

The Sound itself was typically Alaskan, with its towering mountains rising almost vertically out of the water and snow-capped peaks in the distance. But it was also more lush than anything in the interior. The evergreens were predominantly coastal type of trees, particularly hemlocks and cedars. While they have that typical “Christmas tree” shape, the coastal evergreens tend to have flattened and soft needles rather than the skinny and prickly needles associated with pine and spruce. The overall effect is that a hemlock and cedar forest looks more dense, even if there aren’t any more trees. The open spaces were filled with northern rain forest type of fronds and vines, so it was difficult to go anywhere off trail; and a trail that was not used regularly quickly grew over with fronds and ivy.

There were nearly always Koreans fishing off the docks. They used multi-hook jigs with no bait but lots of shiny stuff attached to catch very small fish (3" to 6"). I’m guessing they were in the anchovy or smelt family, although I don’t know. They would stick this jigs into the water, wiggle them around every couple of minutes, and then pull them up a little later and pull the fish off. The schools of fish around the dock must have been large and ravenous, given the number of fish they could pull out in a short period of time. They would salt and dry these fish which would add a powerful punch to various Korean dishes. The Koreans could also be found along the shore line gathering seaweed. It too was dried and then finely chopped. Dried fish and seaweed seemed to make up a significant portion of the traditional Korean diet. But they weren’t diet purists. After a successful day of fishing and harvesting they were as likely as anyone else to be found at the McDonalds getting a Happy Meal for the kids.

And that was the fun and mystique of Valdez. It was the most exotic place we visited in Alaska because it involved lifestyles that were completely foreign to us Montanans: Ocean fishing, Korean delicacies being collected from the ocean and the oil industry at a scale more massive than I’d ever observed before. This mix of cultures was also located at the indescribably beautiful Prince William Sound. Too bad it was 264 miles away from home. If it were closer, we may have made the journey more often, in spite of the rain.