Just finished my 2012 Alaska calendar and the ski/snowboard specific Alakas Pow calendar, they’re both for sale by clicking the below links (or the banners on the right hand side). After an extremely busy summer I’m going to have more time to devote to new blog posts to catch people up on what I’ve been up to. Posts will include trips to Cordova, Yakutat, and Bristol Bay, so stay tuned. Thanks.
-Chris
By Chris Miller in 2012 Calendar
28 pages, published 15 NOV 2011
By Chris Miller in 2012 Calendar
28 pages, published 12 NOV 2011
Michael Zlody and the Mercy Centre…
While attending college, I spent two years working with a friends’ brother with Down Syndrome. I met with Michael twice a week to help him stay active by swimming and lifting weights. What started out as a way to help support myself while going to school turned into a wonderful friendship. I found myself missing Michael today and stumbled across a photo essay I did of him and the school he attended as a child, that at the time was having financial troubles. I shot the photo essay below for the Worcester Telegram & Gazette; below is the text I wrote to accompany the photos. Even though I was the one “helping” Michael, in the end he gave and taught me more about life than I could ever return in our time together.
Michael Zlody
Michael P. Zlody, wakes up every Monday morning tired, but ready for the day’s work and the week ahead. Just like most in their late thirties, he worries about his weight; and does what he can to stay in shape and stay away from that extra donut in the morning. He belongs to a bowling league, the Knights of Columbus, and enjoys an active life that includes time for dating, his family and the occasional word search. In most regards Michael enjoys a relatively normal life, despite the added bit of information on his 21st chromosome, which resulted in him being born with Down Syndrome. For many individuals of Michael’s generation being born with a developmental disability like Down Syndrome, would likely have led to a life of institutionalization or becoming a ward of the state. Luckily for Michael his parents had no such intentions and made sure that he had the same opportunities and expectations as his brother and sisters.
Being raised in a loving and supporting family environment did much to foster the independent spirit and lifestyle that Michael currently enjoys. However, his family was not alone in trying to raise a child with special educational needs; the Mercy Centre became an equally important and integral part of not only educating Michael, but providing him with the necessary resources to lead the life of a productive member of society. The Sisters of Mercy and Catholic Charities opened the school in 1960 and later started the Adult Services program for people over the age of twenty-two with developmental disabilities, providing a necessary alternative to the public school system and other state sponsored programs.
Michael started at the Mercy Centre thirty-five years ago, at the age of three, in the now discontinued preschool program, and after graduating he has worked twice a week in the Adult Services program. The school and the Adult Services program enjoy a strong sense of community within itself, and in the Worcester community. It is a place where students are provided an environment that has the necessary resources to foster their individual educational and developmental needs. The school provides all of the state sanctioned educational requirements, but is also able to provide unique and necessary additional supplements to the student’s general education and development in the form of speech, musical, physical, and occupational therapies. After graduating from the school program at the age of twenty-two students have the opportunity to join the Adult Services program, which helps to assist individuals with employment and provides a job coach/advocate, as well as providing a variety of program sponsored work opportunities in the community.
With the assistance of the Adult Services program and a Job Coach, Bruce Nelson, Michael has worked at the Goretti’s Supermarket in Millbury for the last ten years; his job duties include building maintenance, janitorial services, and bagging groceries. He currently lives with two other roommates in a Seven Hills Foundation owned home. Seven Hills Foundation is a non-profit organization that provides housing and advocacy for individuals with mental retardation and associated developmental disabilities in and around the Worcester area, along with a host of other programs to assist children and adults.
Michael and the greater Worcester community have had an invaluable resource available to them in the form of the Mercy Centre and its staff over the last forty-six years. Hopefully, with the continued support of families, individuals and organizations in the area, the school can raise the necessary funds in the next two years to continue providing a valuable and necessary educational and occupational service to the community. Without it, members of the next generation may not grow-up to enjoy as independent and productive a life as Michael Zlody.
I wrote the above text four years ago, and thankfully the Mercy Centre is still in operation today; thanks to the friends and families of the Mercy Centre and the community of Worcester.
Taking a break to catch his breath, between laps, Michael adjusts his goggles in the Clark University pool.
Michael retires to his room for the evening to watch an episode of, "The Dukes of Hazard", one of his favorite shows to watch before wrestling on Monday nights.
Michael, jokes around after a meal with two of his sisters, Tina (center) and Sarah. His family is very involved in his life, and tries to make as many opportunities in their busy lives to have him over for dinner.
Michael, sweeps up the back storage rooms in Goretti's Supermarket, in Millbury, Massachusetts.
Michael says he enjoys bagging because, "I get to be nice to the customers". He has been employed at Goretti's Supermarket for 10 years, and works there three days a week doing janitorial and maintenance services, as well as bagging groceries.
On a date with his girlfriend, Stephanie Rotti, of Worcester, at Showcase Cinemas North, Michael watches "Medeas Family Reunion". Because neither of them has a drivers license the couple only goes on dates about once a month with Stephanie's sister and brother-in-law.
Mercy Centre
15-year old, Rafael, stands next to one of many signs around the Mercy Centre that express the students and faculties desire to save their school; while he waits for his choir class to begin.
Rachel (right), 20, laughs as her teacher, MaryAnn Bardier(not pictured), reads a book during Speech class, while Eric listens in.
Music Therapist, Monica Villanueva (right), prompts Stephen (left), 15, to tell her what happens next in the story; while his classmate Robert (center) plays the drums. The music therapy sessions are a means of getting non-verbal students to express themselves in non-traditional and traditional means of communication; e.g. singing, musical instruments, and rhyming. The Mercy Centre is one of a handful of schools in the country that offer Music Therapy to students.
Angelo Garofalo (right), Adapted Physical Education Teacher, encourages and assists 12-year old Keegan to climb the stairs to get to his first class of the day.
Amandajean (center), 21, jumps into the center of a group jump rope in Angelo Garofalo's (right-center) first gym class of the day.
Tenakee Inlet shrimping….
In October I jumped aboard the F/V Morgan Anne for the third and final time of the year to head out to Tenakee Inlet. The Morgan Anne is a versatile vessel that is about as diversified as any well managed stock portfolio, she fishes for crab, halibut, black cod, shrimp, and tenders salmon in the summers. I again joined my friend Ian Fisk to photograph him and his crew Thatcher and Steve as they shrimped for spot prawns. Tenakee Inlet is roughly 70 miles from Juneau by boat, and is home to the small community of Tenakee Springs. The month of October in Southeast Alaska heralds the coming winter with its notorious torrential downpours of rain drops burdened with the weight of the coming months of cold and dark accompanied by equally unforgiving winds. Thankfully, Tenakee Inlet is relatively sheltered compared to the squally nature of the adjacent stretch of water in Chatham Strait, sparing us the harsher nature of the wind and waves.
The spot prawns shrimp fishery in Tenakee Inlet is usually a brief affair that ends shortly after it starts. This year the Morgan Anne and a handful of other boats, managed to reach the Guide Harvest Limit set by the Alaska Department of Fish and Game roughly 36 hours after it opened; which meant I had to get my photos and jump ship in Tenakee Springs to fly back to Juneau. The only other option was to stay aboard as the boat moved between the surrounding inlets and bays in search of shrimp, until they returned to Juneau 12 or so days later. With other pressing matters back in town I resolved to get what I could in my short time aboard.
Shrimping is done using pots consisting of two rebar rings, the bottom slightly larger than the top allowing for stacking, covered in a small mesh net with a few openings for the shrimp to enter. The pots are set in strings with roughly 6 to 10 pots between two buoys, usually set along a slope of the bottom around 40 fathoms down. Spot prawns are big, with females topping out at around 12 inches! An interesting evolutionary adaptation of spot prawns is that they are hermaphrodites, usually starting out their life cycle as males, and then in one of the many wonders of nature some of them transform into females. This is not a hard and fast rule, as some spot prawns sexually mature straight into females and males can live their entire life cycle without making the sexual transformation to females.
The process of shrimping is much like other pot fishing, where the gear is baited, set, picked, re-baited, and re-set. Ian’s operation is a little more involved in that he processes all the shrimp, freezes/preserves, and markets his own brand called Primo Prawns. The process is pretty straightforward and rather labor intensive. Once all the gear has been run through at least once, the crew begins processing the shrimp by heading them and sorting them for quality, size, and eggs. After all the shrimp are processed they are weighed into 2-pound portions, zip-locked, packaged and placed in an industrial freezer for two hours. When the shrimp have chilled for two hours, they are glazed using a liquid-sugar concoction for preservation and storage, and placed back in the freezer. Days shrimping are fast paced with a crew of two working the deck; Thatcher and Steve were never standing still and constantly joking about something. There was little down time between running the gear and processing the shrimp, which made the opener fly by.
The Alaska Department of Fish and Game in conjunction with the Alaska State Troopers closely manages fisheries around the state, and spot prawns are no exception. In thirty-six hours the boat was boarded once by the Troopers and Fish and Game swung by at least three times to check-in and get catch estimates. Much to Ian’s chagrin the fishery closed a little over half way through the second day, which meant the pots were only run through twice. I spent the rest of the afternoon of the second day photographing and helping to process the shrimp, and at around 1 AM the Morgan Anne pulled into Tenakee Springs to drop me off.
The harbor was dark and quiet as I shuttled my gear ashore, save for the stirrings of a lone fishing vessel settling down for the night on the outermost finger. The night was dark enough that in the distance I was unable to discern where the water began and the sky ended. I stood alone on the dock and watched as the Morgan Anne pushed its way through the indiscernible boundary of the sea and sky as it ran through the night to reach the next fishing grounds. I had come prepared for the situation and brought along my one-man tent in case I needed to spend a day or two waiting to fly home. Given that it was Fall and bears were more than likely still milling about making their final preparations for the long winter, and with few other options availing themselves, I setup camp in the exact spot I jumped ship. The night was peaceful with the mild swaying of the concrete beneath me as I was lulled to sleep by a small group of humpbacks resting off of the breakwater.
I awoke the next morning and made my way into the center of the small town. Homes in the community are bisected between the uphill part of town and the waterfront by a narrow dirt road that runs the length of the shore of the inlet. The size of the town and its road has made many residents turn to the use of golf carts for the main form of transportation, over the more common small town Alaskan mode of transportation the 4-wheeler. Two-wheeled carts commonly seen in harbors around the state can be found in every yard and are the other common means of transporting goods to and fro in the small community. A resident was kind enough to offer me the use of his spare cart to walk my gear the remaining three blocks to the Seaplane office, I declined and thanked him for his generosity and made my way to purchase my return passage to Juneau. I was hoping to have more time to photograph the small town, but there was space for me on the next flight and the wind and weather were kicking up, which could have easily trapped me for days waiting for the next floatplane.
Trolling in Cross Sound and on the outer coast….
The F/V Imperial off of Cape Spencer at the mouth of Cross Sound
Cross Sound trolling, in my opinion, is as wonderful and relaxing an experience as can be found commercial fishing for salmon. The days are early and consistent, as the night changes to day to try and get to the hooks in the water to catch the morning bite. When the fishing is good the work is as steady and hard as any fishery I have experienced. It may lack the brute strength of purse seining or gillnetting in Bristol Bay, but what it lacks in necessity of shear strength it makes up in spades in the finesse department. I jumped at the chance to run the gurdy and gaff salmon over the stern. The act of bringing a fish to the surface, stunning it and gaffing it aboard in one swift motion is as poetic a motion as a fisherman can make.
Power trolling for those who have never experienced it first hand, is as close as you can get to commercial fishing the old fashioned way of using a rod and reel. Which some fishermen still do with hand trolling permits, using rods and or gurdies to lower and raise their lines into the water by hand. The benefit of power trolling is that the gurdies are hydraulically driven and multiple leaders with hooks are run off an individual line, normally four lines are run at a time with a couple dozen hooks attached to each line with a huge weight at the end of each line. The lures are called spoons or hootchies, the later looks like a small squid, and comes in an assortment of crazy shapes, colors, and sizes. Every fisherman has his/her preferred spoons and hootchies to employ when a myriad of variables changes: location, weather, time of day, targeted species of salmon, etc… Some fishermen swear by a specific spoon or hootchie and won’t use anything else, others employ the carpet bombing method of giving the fish a buffet of hooks to choose from for their last meal.
My time trolling was spent aboard the F/V Imperial with Nelson Merrill and his crewmember Daniel, as well as on the F/V Keta with Ryland Bell and Holly Enderle. They were all extremely kind to let me photograph them as they met the tasks of each new day. Nelson had just returned from an extensive season of longlining around Alaska, and was enjoying his first season aboard the Imperial. Holly and Ryland both grew up trolling out of Elfin Cove and are an excellent team that shares the burdens of driving the boat and running the gear. We anchored up and rafted together each night and shared dinners, swapped stories, and took every opportunity to row ashore and beach comb. One of the more memorable evenings, both boats anchored behind Cape Spencer and the five of us jumped into a small inflatable raft and rowed between the last of Cape Spencer’s protective rocks with the goal of exploring the Cape Spencer Lighthouse.
Alaska has many historical lighthouses that dot its treacherous coastline. The Cape Spencer Lighthouse marks the entrance to Cross Sound and guides boats to the calmer inner waters of the north end of the Inside Passage as it spills towards the glacial silt laden waters of Icy Strait and the mouth Glacier Bay. The lighthouse was built at the doorstep of the Fairweather Mountain Range in 1925 and has stood testament to years of abuse of saltwater and winds born at the heart of the Pacific Ocean. The lighthouse was originally adorned with a piece of Parisian craftsmanship in the form of a fresnel lens that until 1974 illuminated the way to passing vessels. The lens, as much a piece of artwork as fine craftsmanship, can be found at the Alaska State Museum in Juneau. The lighthouse was manned until the same year the lens was removed, at which point it was fully automated, and now only receives the occasional visits by the coast guard, cellphone tower technicians, and a few adventurous fishermen.
We landed on the north side of the lighthouse, just beneath the remnants of an old crane, in a moderate trough that swelled in and out as we tried to perch the small raft on terra firma. We all made it ashore, hauled the raft above the high-water line, and scrambled our way up slippery rocks. The lighthouse is left open for anyone who finds themselves knocking at its door, and bears signs of warnings from the government to not touch any of the equipment. We explored the lighthouse from the very top of the lighthouse itself to the dark of the basement to try and find a rumored pool table. We found the pool table, but with no light to play by, we were forced to wander around the rest of eerily quiet complex of buildings. The lighthouse would suffice as an emergency shelter, but held little creature comforts for a long stay. With the sun setting over the distant rim of the Pacific Ocean, we departed the otherwise barren rock for the two anchored trollers and a warm meal.
After two weeks on the outer coast, I was reticent to leave the calming and wonderful surroundings of Cross Sound. I look forward to returning as soon as I can. I’m not sure a more pure and beautiful fishery exists. I’ll let you know if I find it.
F/V Imperial trolling in front of the Fairweather Range
Nelson rigs up a fleet of spoons for deployment.
Spoons and hootchies lined up on the stern of the F/V Imperial.
Ryland sets the gear on the F/V Keta.
Running the gurdies to bring in the gear.
Ryland watches a fish as it rises to the surface, with gaff ready in-hand.
A coho skims the surface hooked by a spoon.
A coho breaks the surface hooked by a hootchie.
Ryland gives a stunning blow with the gaff, before gaffing it aboard.
Holly holds a fish close to the stern as she raises her gaff to stun it.
Holly cleans a coho.
Once cleaned, and rinsed, the coho are headed to the hold for icing.
Holly poses with a coho
Portrait of Nelson's crewmember Daniel
Cape Spencer Lighthouse
Checking out the view from the top of the lighthouse.
George Island in Cross Sound.
Tendering in Cross Sound…
World War II cannon on George Island, installed to protect Cross Sound from a possible Japanese invasion.
I had the fortunate opportunity at the end of last summer to head back out to Cross Sound, the third time in a year, to photograph power trolling and a little bit of tendering. Nelson Merrill, a long time commercial fisherman and friend, was headed out to Cross Sound after finishing up an extensive season of longlining around the state and welcomed me aboard his new boat the F/V Imperial. To meet up with Nelson, I hitched a ride out to the Cross Sound fishing grounds with an old friend, fishing buddy, and tenderman Ian Fisk and his crew on the F/V Morgan Anne. Ian and his crew were kind enough to tolerate my presence on board, as I got the full treatment of what its like to work aboard a tender.
I’ve spent plenty of summers delivering fish to tenders, but never had the opportunity to see first hand the day-in and day-out operation. In Bristol Bay, a tender is a nice reprieve from the swaying, heaving, rocking and pitching of our small boats; it’s the closest we get to the sensation of stepping onto dry land. In Bristol Bay the visits are fast and furious to offload the day’s catch, refuel, and purchase any provisions that the boat is lacking. The tenders are a lot like a full service gas station on the water that just so happens to take fish. By contrast in Bristol Bay there is an almost constant lineup of boats to deliver fish at the end of an opener, sometimes a string of 20 boats or more will be trailing behind a tender, so time is in short supply. The more time you spend delivering fish, the less time there is for eating and more importantly sleep. In Southeast, Alaska the pace is a little different, especially when it comes to the trolling fleet.
Trollers for the most part have no loyalty to a specific processor, which is great for them as the processors are pushed to meet their needs and demands. Whoever sets the highest price usually gets the most fish, and these salmon are the best quality you’ll ever find. The salmon cruising around the outer coast of Southeast Alaska are fresh out of the Pacific Ocean; hell they’re plucked right at the edge of the North American continent as it spills into the vast depths of the Pacific. The amount of pride each troller has for his profession and his catch is highlighted by the care that goes into cleaning each fish and belly icing it so that it will stay as fresh as possible for the consumer.
The tenders servicing the troll fleet around Cross Sound are constantly picking up anchor to position themselves to wherever the fleet is catching fish. This way the fishermen don’t have to run hours to deliver fish, only to have to turn around and run to an anchorage close to the fishing grounds, and in so doing losing valuable time for sleep. Not every troll fishery or tender works this way, but Ian and his crew on the F/V Morgan took every effort to stay in communication with the fishermen and accommodate their needs. An impressive effort to say the least, I only wish it was the norm rather than an exception, as anything that makes the life of a fisherman easier is a welcome change to a profession fraught with discomfort and struggle to make a living. This isn’t to say that the tenders are there to wait hand-and-foot on the fishermen, but there is certainly a fair amount of down time on some days.
It’s a lot of hurry up and wait as the tenders scurry to position themselves ahead of the fleet and standby at the ready for the boats to deliver. This often means chunks of days are spent reading, watching movies, and napping only to have to work 14 hours straight to unload all the fishing boats, refuel, and ice holds. Many times right after unloading, Ian and his crew spent another couple hours rendezvousing with another tender to swap the fresh fish for fresh ice, so that the fish could be taken straight to the processing plant. With all the back breaking work and long hours, they still managed to find time to go for quick deer hunts and sunset kayak paddles on a stretch of the Alaska coastline that few ever get a chance to visit, let alone spend time marveling at the beauty of the remnants of the grand expanse of the North American continent as it transitions and spills into the vast Pacific Ocean.
Sea arch on George Island.
Tender in Soapstone harbor.
Troller in front of Three Hill Island
Troller anchored up in Hoktaheen
A wooden troller pulls into Hoktaheen out of a dense Pacific fog.
Mattheus and Ian sort fish for weighing.
King Salmon
King Salmon skin
Mattheus holds up an ocean bright chum salmon.
Ian writes out a fish ticket and a check for a troller in the galley.
Mattheus takes a break to cool off on a sunny day.
Gary skins out a buck he shot on a down day near Elfin Cove.
Gary poses with his buck.
Fifty-plus years of pollution…British Columbia’s: Tulsequah Chief Mine
View looking North from the mine road that connects to the confluence of the Tulsequah and Taku rivers.
Update (2-2-11): A link to a Yukon News story on the Tulsequah Mine – http://yukon-news.com/business/21438/ .
In early June (’10) I took a quick overnight trip into Canada, 60 miles up the Taku River to the confluence of the Tulsequah River, and continued on to the Tulsequah Chief Mine (TCM) site with Ed Shanley. Ed’s family has had a cabin on Canyon Island, one of the last properties before the border, for decades. Ed’s knowledge and connection to the area go back to his childhood, and made him a perfect guide for the trip.
The Tuslequah Chief Mine with ore deposits of copper, lead, zinc, gold, and silver started production in 1951 and lasted until 1957; when it closed due to low mineral prices. The mine and its buildings were abandoned and left to rot, with no pollution abatement for the Acid Mine Drainage(AMD) run-off coming straight from the mine and flowing into the Tulsequah River. In 1989 Cominco, the owner of the mine was ordered to cleanup the site and provide adequate retaining/treatment ponds for the AMD going into river. Cominco dodged its responsibilities to cleanup the site until it sold its mineral rights to Redcorp Ventures Ltd. whose goal was to reopen the mine and either build a road to Atlin B.C. or build an as yet untested and unproven hover barge to transport the ore down the Taku River. Redcorp developed an extensive road from the TCM site to the confluence of the Tuslequah and Taku rivers. All the while taking few, if any, steps to mitigate the ongoing pollution into the adjacent river. The company went bankrupt in 2009, pulled out all its equipment and sold off assets to repay debtors, with little to no cleanup of the site. The B.C. government has not forced any cleanup of the site and has been delinquent in requiring owners of the site to stop the ongoing pollution into what would otherwise be a pristine river system.
Ed and I went to the mine site with the goal of documenting it in its current state and to see first hand the level of pollution taking place. We brought mountain bikes to allow us to cover the most terrain possible, using the relatively new road built by the now defunct Redcorp. We biked the gravel and dirt road from end to end; 14 miles of switchbacks and meandering rises and drops along the eastern bank of the Tulsequah River. The ride ended at the confluence of the Tulsequah and Taku rivers where the mine had created a staging area and barracks for the miners. The site was abandoned leaving buildings, vehicles, mattresses, exercise machines, and office equipment presumably to be reclaimed by the next owner.
As of late April of this year the former CEO of Redfern Corp. has reorganized under a new entity called Chieftain Metals Inc. which ostensibly will be the same company just under a new guise, due to the previous corporation’s lack of assets and inability to live up to debts and financial obligations, like cleaning up the mine site.
The goal of this project is two fold:
1. Help to pressure any new developer and the B.C. government to cleanup the site before any further development of the site goes forward.
2. Raise awareness of the importance of the Taku River watershed and its tributaries. Ideally through a documentation of the fisheries on both the U.S. and Canadian sides of the border, and a river float of the Taku from its upper headwaters to document the ecosystem.
The Taku River is home to all 5 species of Pacific Salmon, brown bears, moose, eagles, and many other species that call Southeast Alaska and British Columbia home. There is no excuse for the wanton pollution over the past 50 years of the natal salmon streams of the Taku watershed. The Alaskan and B.C. governments have an obligation to protect and preserve a resource that will in perpetuity continue to support native cultures, commercial fisheries, and tourism. The Tulsequah Chief Mine is a cancerous wound on the landscape and an ecosystem that if left alone will continue to pollute the environment, degrade and impact the future of the region, and impede the health of an otherwise healthy and sustainable fishery.
Taku River looking North toward Canada.
Ed Shanley drives his family's river boat, just before the Canadian border.
The road linking the Tulsequah Chief Mine with the confluence of the Taku River.
One of many piles of garbage left by the former mine owner Redcorp.
One of several shafts to the old mine, where acid continues to leach into the nearby Tulsequah.
Streams of acid drainage can be seen flowing downhill from the mine site.
Close-up of one of the many streams that transport the acid mine drainage to the Tulsequah River.
Retaining pond adajecent to the Tulsequah River.
Evidence of the inability of the retaining ponds to hold back the acid drainage from entering the Tulsequah river.
Despite the acid drainage plant life still finds a way to perservere.
Another mine shaft leaking acid drainage into the Tulsequah River.
Close-up of a stream flowing into a retainment pond.
Ineffective retainment ponds next to the Tulsequah River.
Outer Coast Longlining…
View of Cross Sound and Fairweather Mountain Range
In an attempt to get caught up on posts well beyond over due, after a busy summer, I’m going to start all the way back in May and work forward. In the hope that I will get caught up with all my updates before winter is in full effect and I find most of my free time spent editing skiing and snowboarding photos.
Last May I took a week long trip on the F/V Morgan Anne with Jason Kohlhase and his crew on their last longlining trip of the season for Black Cod (aka Sablefish) and Halibut. Longlining, for those who are unfamiliar with this type of fishing, is as the name suggests a long line, aka a skate, of weighted ground line that at a set interval has a baited hook that sits on the bottom of the ocean. A set is marked by a buoy/flagged marker at each end, attached on both ends to an anchor with the skates of gear in the middle. This style of fishing is slightly indiscriminate in that it attempts to target a specific species by depth and location, but results in a certain amount of by-catch (non-targeted fish being caught). The majority of the fishing took place in Cross Sound, 75 miles west of Juneau, for Halibut with a day-and-a-half on the Gulf of Alaska.
The weather was gorgeous for the entirety of the trip. I brought along a borrowed 11 foot ridged-hull inflatable skiff, thanks Art, that I used to get shots of the boat running gear and hauling fish aboard from outside the boat. With the great weather I was able to be launched from the boat multiple times with ease, but it proved challenging to take photos and drive the skiff at the same time. The week went by with many viewings of the Fairweather Range. The Fairweathers are probably one of the most dramatic mountain ranges on the planet as they rise directly out of the Pacific Ocean, with Mt. Fairweather topping out at 15,000+ ft. Mt. Fairweather was named by Capt. James Cook in 1778, in undoubtedly uncharacteristic weather for the region, as the mountain is rarely visible due to the almost constant colliding of weather systems coming off the Gulf of Alaska, leaving the mountain shrouded in clouds.
The trip wrapped up with me driving the boat through the middle of the night from the edge of Cross Sound to Swanson Harbor to ring in my 30th birthday. The late night drive was highlighted by humpback whales bubblenet feeding in Icy Strait just off Lemesurier Island at 3 in the morning, and a spectacular sunrise on the Fairweathers. Hands down the most memorable start to a birthday.
F/V Morgan Anne
Big John, Kevin, and Jon set halibut gear in Cross Sound.
Big John mans the roller.
Big John yards a halibut aboard.
Halibut being hauled over the roller.
Cleaning a good sized halibut.
Halibut waiting in the hold to be iced.
Kevin ices down the halibut in the hold
Jon throws the grapling hook to bring in a set.
Kevin and Big John haul in a big halibut.
A wave breaks in the wake of the boat with the Fairweather Range in the background.
Jon holds a black cod.
Kevin cradles a large black cod.
Big John holds a halibut.
The F/V Morgan Anne tied up in Elfin Cove for the night.
Stroller White Base Jump…
The second base jump of the week was off the backside of Stroller White. We flew up with Coastal Helicopters and landed roughly 10 feet from the edge of a 800+ ft. drop, amazing flying by the pilot Dustin. The weather was phenomenal yet again. After landing I quickly setup my remote camera and jetted back to the jump site. Jared Carlson came along again as support, which was awesome because by the time I made it back to the crew he’d already setup fixed lines for us to lean over the edge to capture Craig and Triston as they hucked it. My heart was racing as Triston took a few steps and jumped off the prow. Craig waited for him to land, psyched himself up, and launched off the edge. Point-to-point it was a successful mission, we got all the shots and everyone landed safely. Triston made it back with an hour to spare before having to jump on a flight back to Anchorage; sometimes its best to never be at rest and just to stay in motion.
Jumping Out of a Perfectly Good Helicopter….
Triston and Craig checkout Guardian Peak
What a long and crazy summer it has been. I was gone for most of it either in Bristol Bay commercial fishing for six weeks or continuing/starting future projects when I returned to Southeast. I will eventually catch up on the blog with a number of entries to follow on the Taku River/Tulsequah Mine, Trolling on the Outer Coast, late summer on the Mendenhall, and so much more.
Juneau just wrapped up an 11 day stretch of 60+ degree weather, with not a drop of rain and totally blue-bird skies. We’ve been blessed with an awesome end to our summer, hopefully we’ll squeak out a few more good days here and there on our slide into Fall. During that stretch of great weather I had the opportunity to shoot a friend Craig Brown, aka Shaggy, and his buddy Triston Buchanan jump out of a helicopter and base jump off a cliff on the backside of Stroller White.
The first attempt was made on Guardian Peak, approx. 16 miles back into the Juneau Icefield behind Lemon Creek. We flew with NorthStar and were dropped off on a patch of snow on a bench on the eastern side of the mountain. We made our way down to a good vantage point of the jump spot and Craig and Triston took measurements to assess the jump. Using some simple geometry they sized up the jump and decided they’d hike up and toss some rocks off to test the distance. While they climbed the remaining 300 hundred-or-so feet to the jump site, I hurriedly setup my gear for the shoot and took a moment or two to enjoy the amazing vistas of the Juneau Icefield. While getting gear together I got the call that the jump was a no-go. Craig and Triston had anticipated a longer jump and hadn’t packed the right pilot chutes. I was a little bummed that I wasn’t going to get any shots of them hucking-it off into the void above the icefield, but mostly for them as they’d done all the preparation and had to turn back at the last minute.
Once we reunited at the LZ we were picked up by the helicopter and headed back over the Mendenhall Glacier. I was taking advantage of the flight and grabbing as many shots as I could of the icefield on our flight back. Just as I thought we were going to descend to the NorthStar basecamp site, the pilot came over the intercom and turned to Craig and said, “Well… you wanna get out here?” Craig’s eyes bugged out to the size of a couple mandarin oranges as he realized the pilot was serious and that we were at 4,500 feet. Craig and Triston gave the thumbs up and the doors to the bird were opened up and they proceeded to climb onto the skids. Once they got their bearings they each dropped away from the helicopter hurtling towards the glacier below. What an exhilarating experience to have a front-row seat to someone jumping out of a helicopter, definitely worth every penny.
Ford’s Terror…
John Muir on his 1880 exploration of Alaska hit it spot-on when he described Ford’s Terror as,
“A smooth mirror reach between granite walls of the very wildest and most exciting description, surpassing in some ways those of the far-famed Yosemite Valley.”
Ford’s Terror is a narrow fjord, roughly 60 miles southeast of Juneau, Alaska that when the tides are right will a few times a year produce a bore tide. Six years back I went down with a group to photograph whitewater kayakers and a few surfers surf the waves, that over a century earlier terrified a young naval officer whom the inlet is named after. The young Ford had the misfortune of rowing a dinghy into the narrow fjord at slack tide and as the waters began to retreat was caught for two hours inside the narrow and turbulent inlet. We spent twenty-four hours, and two high tides, inside the inlet experiencing the raw power of a large volume of water exiting a shallow bottleneck. The kayakers and surfers had roughly a 2-3 hour peak wave window to surf the waves. The surfers were towed by a jet ski into the wave, as far as we knew this was the first time anyone had tried to surf the waves of Ford’s Terror on a surfboard. The waves looked like so much fun and given that I didn’t know how to whitewater kayak, I put on a wet suit and swam through the waves. It was quite the experience to be whisked along at about 9-10 mph being dunked one second and then to be spit feet out of the water the next.
The trip was an amazing experience and one that I will never forget. In fact it is probably one of the seminal moments that pushed me to try and pursue a career in photography. I had just purchased my first digital SLR, a nikon D70, and was excited to put its through its paces. While photographing the kayakers and surfers in the remote and natural cathedral of the granite walls jutting straight from the ocean, I came to the realization that I couldn’t imagine doing anything more rewarding than what I was doing at that moment. The simple act of documenting and portraying people exploring the world through their athleticism mixed with the confluence of a desire to experience the world through their passion in sports. In turn this would allow me to fulfill my own need to experience and explore the vast wonders that Alaska and the world at large have to offer. These are the things that pushed me to drop a German minor in college and forgo a semester abroad in Germany, enroll in a second major in Studio Art at the start of my Junior year, and take up a summer internship at the Worcester Telegram and Gazette in Massachusetts for no-pay. I learned countless things during my summer internship, but most of all it cemented my passion to photograph people and the world around me.
