Valdez AK, oil, bears, salmon, oh-my.

We leave Palmer in another light rain for the port city of Valdez, a 270-mile drive that seems likely to be grueling.

We are traveling today with Larry and Martha.  Well, not with just L&M; when you travel with them, you are also traveling with their dog and two cats.

The scenery is nice the first few miles, and then turns spectacular for the rest of the way.  The sun glistens off the huge Matanuska Glacier.  The four of us and their dog Murphey take a mile hike at a viewpoint, noticing that this glacier lies relatively flat in a valley unlike the vertical glaciers terminating in water we’ve been seeing.   In the parking lot, a Princess Cruise bus is getting ready to depart; the driver stands at the door with a bladder of a clear liquid, telling passengers to put down their cameras and open their hands so he can squirt them, “we don’t want anyone getting sick”.

Matanuska Glacier

Driving on we see no animals but many hunters – caribou or moose season just opened, and it looks reckless.  There is little vegetation and many empty utility trailers suggesting many hunters in a relatively small area, bounding about on quads, weapons at hand.

We have lunch at a roadhouse popular with hunters featuring 25-cent coffee and, like many places in Alaska, a room full of mounted dead animals.  Continuing on, we again see the Alyeska pipeline, confirming we must be getting close to Valdez, its southern terminus.  Most of our travel today is between 1000 and 2000 feet elevation.  The mountains, though not high, are gorgeous and spotted with snow and small maybe nameless glaciers.   We come to a seemingly minor summit and are awed by the views, including the huge Worthington Glacier.  Two pick-up trucks are visible on a point maybe a quarter mile below us, the image looking made for a Ford or Chevy sales brochure.

The pipeline reappears then goes underground for the last 18 miles into Valdez. 

The Jones' pass over a typical road transition in the area.

Two lovers enjoy the view, including a couple pick-up trucks to the left.

Bridal Veil Falls on the Valdez approach.

This approach to Valdez has brought us unexpected beauty, saying much about our ignorance of Alaskan geography.  As we drive into Valdez we pass a sign pointing to the old city, mostly destroyed in the 1964 earthquake killing locally over 30 people, including many kids.  Most were gathered on the wharf to greet an arriving freighter when the quake hit.  The wharf shook and the ship shook, banging in to each other; 3 died on the ship, the balance as the wharf collapsed.  The city has bee rebuilt in a more sheltered location. 

It is cold, and there is a solid cloud cover and a light drizzle.  The minimalist downtown is unattractive.  Not very welcoming at all.

The pipeline was constructed after the earthquake.  I expect to see oil tank fields and offshore supertankers, but the supertankers seem to be elsewhere, at least I don’t see them. The pipeline route has been very accessible previously, but here it terminates, properly, in a secure and foreboding looking area posted with FBI signs.  Since 9/11 tours have not been permitted.  (Later we learn oil flows are now so low Valdez receives only one supertanker every couple weeks.  The pipeline is at less than a third of its capacity.)

The oil terminus and tank farm is behind the sign.

My expectation is that Valdez is all oil, but tourism also turns out to be big.  There are many opportunities to fish, tour glaciers, hunt, and view wildlife. 

The downtown consists of large RV parks on pot-holed course gravel, some civic buildings, a couple gas stations, a Safeway, an outfitting store, some small hotels and motels, three museums, fishing and tour docks, and very casual eating and drinking spots.  There is one McDonalds, but otherwise I spot no fast food joints.

After eating in camp we drive around the inlet trying to spot the rumored bears.  The shore is dotted with the occasional fisherman.  RVs and pick-ups are scattered along the edge, and across the road are more RVs and tent campers – the latter parked next to recently posted signs warning of bears in the area, stay in your vehicles.

We see maybe 20-30 people in a group on the bay side of the highway and pull over to see what is going on.  A creek empties here, and as this is spawning season the area is chocked with single-minded salmon.  For reasons we don’t understand the route to the creek is blocked by vertical metal bars, and thousands of mature salmon are bashing against the bars trying impossibly to get up stream.  Salmon in death throes lie in the shallow spots, seagulls and harbor seals feasting.  Signs alert to bears in the area, but we see none.  Just thousands of salmon ending their lives in exhaustion, apparently without spawning.

The creek above the hatchery.

We finally spot a sign that says these are hatchery-raised salmon that have returned after 2-3 years to spawn.  The creek does not have the capacity to handle them, so they are blocked as they might damage the upstream power plant.  The heartier and luckier salmon run a nearby gauntlet of gates and get to die in the hatchery, where artificial spawning takes place.  It is still hard to understand all this waste.  (Later we are told the fish we are seeing have already spawned, but we are not certain.)

We leave and explore the inland side, which has narrow strips of water paralleling the road, backed by dense forests.  Like all of the water around here, this has the glacial look, grey-green and opaque 2-3 inches below the surface.  The water swirls with salmon, some occasionally breaking the surface with a splash. 

We spy a black bear fishing, and later a couple cubs.  The bears are quite selective and lazy, effortlessly scooping up salmon, which often look dead.  A quick bite and most of the fish is discarded, uneaten.  Sometimes a bear will dash into the water and retrieve a salmon but these fish are also quickly abandoned.  Eventually something seems to click and a bear disappears into the woods, the favored salmon firmly clasped in jaws.  (In camp the next night, a fellow that has been coming here for 21 years tells me the bear is squeezing the females for the roe, and rejecting the males.)  

SoCal goes bear hunting.