I planned to leave the Hilton at 3.30pm, but I am already down in the foyer by 3.00.
I pop in to the office of Salmon Berry Tours. Up until now they've either been closed whenever I passed, or I haven't had the time to go in, but now I see Candice there. She's very busy with clients, but I only need a moment of her time. I thank her for posting my first package - which has arrived safely in Hungary - and for the day she was my personal guide around Anchorage. I say my farewell to her. I say goodbye to Candice and to Anchorage.
I buy an ice-cream in the hotel and walk down to the nearby monument. I go up the hill, and down below me I can see the Alaska Railroad Station down below. So many things have happened since I took that bus from there - the trains weren't running that day. Those were the very first
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days of my expedition, and now I'm more than 3/4 of the way through it. There's a lot more behind me than ahead. It is hard to be cheerful at this moment.
I've taken to this city.
I've walked through its streets a lot, so I've seen most of its shops, exhibitions and museums. All my shopping might have seemed unnecessary to a stranger, but I know that it wasn't. The supplies of clothes and equipment that I've bought here will last me for years. And whenever I wear them back home - for hunting, or just in the street - I will always be reminded of Anchorage.
It is the Big Apple of the North!
I stay in my little watch tower for a while looking at the harbor traffic, a view I have seen many times from my hotel window. But now I must slowly start getting ready to go as my plane will be leaving soon. I walk back to the hotel and say goodbye to Yolanda. She's just finished her shift and is out of uniform, in her own clothes. She has been the kindest and most helpful receptionist I have ever met. I say goodbye to the others behind the desk and then drop in to the bar. It is not yet open, I can't have a farewell beer, so I just get in a taxi and head for the airport. The driver wants to chat, but I don't feel like it. I'm leaving Anchorage.
Why should I be cheerful?
I find my way around the airport easily, as I've already been here a couple of times. I get on the Era Aviation plane to Valdez; that is where my hunting and other adventures will continue. After flying for only 30-40mins. on the shabby plane we land on the wet runway. If I was a newcomer to Alaska, I would certainly consider this to be bad weather. But now I'm an old hand, and don't give it a second thought.
This amazing city has chosen a slogan which, though it might not sound particularly modest, is very true and appropriate:
Switzerland: the Valdez of Europe.
Anyone who's been here and seen these mountains and the incomparable panorama will agree with me that the motto is no exaggeration.
Valdez has never been a tourist paradise.
Before the TAPS was built, it was only a simple little fishing village, but since then it has turned into a real oil city. Where there is oil, there is money, and both have contributed to the development of Valdez. This city of 4454 inhabitants is the final stop of the TAPS and the massive tankers leave Valdez harbor first into Prince William Sound, and then on to the rest of the world. That oil does not only bring money is shown by the Exxon Valdez catastrophe, which at present is the greatest oil pollution disaster not only in Alaska, but the entire world. The city will never forget the memory of that terrible event.
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The 211,000 ton oil tanker sailed out of Valdez on the 24th March 1989. The official pilot boat guided the tanker steadily out of Valdez harbor and set it on its course. The giant ship started its voyage on the correct bearings, but a little later Capt. Joseph Hazelwood spotted an iceberg, which might possibly have broken off from the Columbia Glacier. He requested permission to make a minor course adjustment, which he received. But he failed to ensure that his subordinates carried out his orders. The Duty Officer actually made the situation worse by not properly communicating with the helmsman, who ended the maneuver too early, even though it had been started too late. They were still trying to steer the ship when it struck a reef, causing a huge gash in its side.
The oil started to pour out.
In a very short time over 10.8 million gallons had leaked into the sea.
500 sq.mi. of ocean were covered by thick coating of oil.
The pollution extended 1300 mi. along the Alaskan shore.
The size of the spill, the badly organized rescue operation, the rough weather, technical problems and pointless professional and theoretical arguments, all delayed the start of the clean up. It took the outstanding efforts of 10,000 people and $5bn to try and control the oil. But it was only partially successful. Only 20% of the entire cargo was stopped from leaking, and the disaster cost the lives of over 250,000 sea birds. Their nesting areas were destroyed and their world suffered irreparable damage. 2500 very, very rare sea-otters, billions of herring and salmon, all paid with their lives for this act of negligence. Bird rescuers found 250 falcons which had lost their feathers because of the toxins. Ten years after the disaster the bird life had still not recovered and, according to estimations, will not for another seventy. Many local people have been suffering from symptoms of pollution since it happened. The ship still sails, but under the name of Dong Fang Ocean, and various rules have been tightened. For example, now only double-hulled tankers are allowed to carry oil. This year (2009) there will be a series of events to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the tragedy.
Wherever you go in Alaska you will see memorials to the gold rush.
This includes Valdez, as well.
During the gold rush Valdez was the start of the pan-American trail. The route crossing the glacier and ice-field north-east of the town was just the start for the wanderers, whose next station, and place of rest, was the Copper River. To me, this route is the most puzzling thing about the gold rush. The mouth of the Copper River can easily be reached from Cordova, in the Gulf of Alaska; it is only just over 18mi. by sea. It would have been an obvious choice for prospectors, even in the very beginning, to have taken the easier and safer sea route rather than
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climbing the dangerous glacier. I can't understand why they chose to travel over this merciless, ice-covered land and then join up with the Copper River later. Having studied the history of the gold-rush I think it is probable that somebody just happened to pick this trail and the others followed blindly. Another possibility is that as river travel was very expensive only the well-heeled fortune hunter could afford it; even so, they never used the Copper River but instead chose to sail up the Yukon River as far as Dawson. It was a convenient solution and people didn't have to walk a step though, according to records, such a journey took more than 314 days because of the Yukon freezing over.
Whatever the real reason was, it is a fact that in the winter of 1897-98 3500 people set out over the much-feared Valdez Glacier, driven by the belief that lying on the ground, just beyond the icefields, were nuggets of gold the size of birds eggs. According to the literature I've seen, first they had to walk 18.5mi. to get to the top of the glacier and then descend another 9.25mi. to the Copper River. My own map measurements only partially confirm these distances.
During the gold rush W. R. Abercrombie, a captain in the 2nd Infantry Regiment of the US army and a well-known expert on glaciers, was a highly-respected man in the Valdez area; on his death a mountain to the east of the glacier was named after him.
The greatest difficulty of this route was the fact that, due to its southern location, the ice only became solid enough to walk on at night. So the prospectors were forced to make their way in total darkness over one of the most dangerous glaciers, parts of which, even today, no sane mountaineers would attempt unless it was daylight and they were harnessed and roped together.
If they managed to successfully negotiate the glacier, they then came to the Kluteena Valley and river, and finally, after several more rivers, the aspiring prospectors were able to continue on to the Klondike.
Providing they managed to survive the Kluteena River.
Today this fast-running mountain river, with its many rapids, is considered perfect for difficult white-water rafting, but 100 years ago to those wanderers it was an uncrossable, wet hell. One in four people were shipwrecked, with the water washing away not only their equipment but their hopes as well. It was an almost impossible challenge to climb back over the glacier without equipment or warm clothing and make it back to Valdez, the place from which these mad people had originally set out on their mad adventure. Some members of the groups crossing and re-crossing the glacier went insane. Many thought they had seen the "Ice Demon", a frightful monster that attacked them, trying to push them into crevasses in the ice. Out of the 3500 that attempted the crossing only 200 managed to get across the Kluteena; just 5% of the original
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number actually made it to the Klondike. The total amount spent by these prospectors in making a never-to-be-finished overland trek came to $3.7m.
I am staying at the Best Western where, after looking at several rooms, I finally end up in Room 206. I've carted my bags between three rooms, each numbingly cold. The receptionist comes with me to try and find one with a more pleasant climate. I might just have to get out my sleeping bag.
I have such fond memories of the Anchorage Hilton and its staff, who were so kind and friendly, that the Best Western has a really tough act to follow if they want to impress me. So perhaps I'd better not be too ready to criticize as I'm certain to be biased. From my room I can see the harbor; beneath my window a coastguard vessel is moored and on its bow, with its barrel sticking out, stands a huge machine gun under a canvas cover.
I hope I'll survive the night here.
Somehow.
On board the Ruffinit