Expedition
Log
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Expedition Log:
August 2, 2001
The Day
the Water Died
Molly McCammon
Prince William
Sound
The water was still as the sun
started to turn the mountain peaks pink, then gold. During
the night we had steamed past Herring Bay on Knight Island
-- ground zero of the 1989 oil spill in Prince William
Sound. Now the ship was anchored off Squire Point at the
southern end of Knight Island. Our day began with a Zodiac
tour of the small inlets and bays of western Knight Island.
It was hard to believe that only 12 years ago, these same
inlets and bays were filled with goopy North Slope crude oil
and an invasion of cleanup crews armed with pressurized hot
water hoses.
Bald eagles perched in silver
spruce snags, marbled murrelets dove for fish, and a few sea
otters lazed in sheltered bays. But our group today was
fascinated with the intertidal and subtidal life at low
tide. Fucus (the most prevalent seaweed) glowed gold in the
sunlight. Sea stars, barnacles and mussels captured our
attention -- life in minute detail. But it was here in the
intertidal zone that the most damage from the oil spill
occurred. The Alutiiq people in Port Graham called it "the
day the water died."
March 24, 1989, shortly after
midnight. The TV Exxon Valdez was driven up "hard
aground" and the largest oil spill in North American history
began. For three days, the weather was calm, but no response
boats arrived. There was no response, because there was no
boom, no crews, and no preparation for an event of this
nature. It was only a matter of time until a huge storm blew
the oil west and south and soon out of Prince William
Sound.
The number of carcasses started
to grow - otters, seals, murres, harlequin ducks. Knight
Island was one of the most heavily impacted areas, and even
today only a few sea otters inhabit these bays, and the
numbers of harlequin ducks and pigeon guillemots, which feed
mostly on intertidal life, are still depressed. It was hard
to be at Knight Island, so close to Herring Bay and Bay of
Isles, and know that Prince William Sound had still not
recovered. Even after 12 years oil is still present in
significant amounts, much of it still fresh and toxic. Just
looking at the beauty of the Sound, you would never know
this unless you knew what the Sound had been like
before.
At 11 a.m. we returned to the
ship to hear a presentation from marine mammal expert Kathy
Frost on the status of seals, sea lions and beluga whales in
Alaska. The news is not good on many fronts, with the
current thinking now being that major shifts in the Gulf of
Alaska ecosystem (including some warming ocean temperatures)
have resulted in major ecological changes, including
decreases in the forage fish richest in fat and
nutrients.
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The mountains
behind Tiger Glacier catch the last rays of the sun
just before everyone headed to bed. (Photo by
National Ocean Service, NOAA).
Click
image for a larger view.
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During lunch we steamed past the
northern end of LaTouche Island and Sleepy Bay -- the poster
child for the spill and cleanup efforts -- and anchored off
an old copper mine visited by the Harriman Expedition in
1899. The mine was the second largest copper producer in
Alaska (after the Kennicott Mine in McCarthy) until its ore
fizzled out in the 1930s. Most of the old buildings have
been bulldozed over, and all that remains are a lot of
tailings and the old school house. The land is now owned by
the estate of the former head of the Republican Party of
Alaska -- Cliff Groh, Sr. -- who has subdivided the land and
sold a few lots.
An old road of mine tailings led
our group up to the original copper pit. But that wasn't the
main attraction. Instead, we were all fascinated by the
wetland/fen life of sedges and grasses, bog orchids,
sundews, and deer cabbage. Conrad Field was the lecturer of
the day as we wound our way up the hillside amid incredible
views. We met two locals who live full-time in Eagle River,
Alaska, but visit their recreational cabin frequently during
the summer months.
The day was hot and sunny, and
the two Allisons could not resist taking a swim. Back on the
ship, we swung north and west once again into Icy Bay -- a
spectacular fjord with an impressive tidewater glacier,
Tiger Glacier, at its end. The lighting was amazing. The
scholars all gathered on the upper deck for a group photo.
What a brilliant, crazy and motley crew.
The light is fading now. We're
almost having night at this time of the summer. As we pass
islands of brooding forests, sheer peaks, and hanging
snowfields and glaciers, it's not hard to imagine what the
Harriman Expedition must have felt more than a century ago.
I'm sure that they felt what we all felt today: that we are
incredibly lucky to be in a place of such beauty and
majesty.
(View
the day's photos)
(top)
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