Valdez Winter 1961-1962
My family had moved to Valdez in the spring of 1961, where I joined them for that summer. When school time arrived in August, I returned to the boarding school in Glennallen, 115 miles north of Valdez. There I attended school with a majority of Native Alaskans, though it was not the typical Native Boarding School you may read about. This school was home to many Natives who had no school in their villages. Some were orphans, but most came from large indigenous families spread along the Yukon River far from cities and large towns. Local Glennallen student residents also attended, as did some white kids whose families lived in small villages with no schools. These kids became life-long friends, like a family to me.
My Aunt Betty and Uncle Phil lived 6 miles from the school, where my uncle ran the supply department for the 2-year-old Alaskan Transportation Department. He had lodging there with my aunt, who worked as a secretary supporting my uncle.
As Christmas approached, Uncle Phil arranged transportation from Glennallen to Valdez. A small group of Texan engineers, working on new road construction planning, were traveling south to Valdez in two pickup trucks. I had a passenger seat in one of them alongside an affable young Texan.
The road to Valdez is often dangerous, plowed but usually with ice or snowpack on the macadam surface. Our snowplow drivers would use the plow blades to create an ice berm along the edges of the road so if our vehicle started sliding, it might guide it along the road’s path. Maybe.
My driver from Texas was not very familiar with driving on ice. He white-knuckled the steering wheel for many miles until we crested Thompson Pass. The Pass, at 2600 feet above the sea, was the snowiest place in Alaska, often recording more than 500 inches of snow in a season. One always called Tsaina Lodge to inquire as to whether it was open or not. For our trip, it was plowed, though the road was like a tunnel through the 10-foot-deep snow.
As we started to descend the 5-miles to sea level… without guardrails… our tires began to slip. The driver overcorrected and we floated off the road into a patch of snow on the driver’s side of the truck. It wasn’t deep but was enough to slow our progress, so we stopped about 10 feet off the highway. I was able to step out, up to my knees in the snow. I went to the front of the vehicle to see that front bu,per had pushed snow until the snow had stopped the truck only a few feet from a very, very, long precipice leading to a pencil-thin line that was a river far below.
I was shaking thinking about how close we came to that edge. Then the second truck came upon us. Being road workers and engineers, they were able to pull our truck out of the snow onto the road. I then proceeded down the mountain, very nervous about a driver who did not have necessary skills.
But I did arrive safely.
My family had relocated to a small frame house a mile away from their summer rental nearer downtown. This home was very compact, with a small living room and kitchen, one bedroom, down, and several bedrooms upstairs. Also staying with the family was Leo, the main baker at Valdez’s Gilson’s Grocery Store, where my father was a baker’s helper.
That Christmas was notable because I received a new wallet as my main gift. The snow came down so much that we had to let the cat out the upstairs window and dig a tunnel from the front door to the road, which was plowed sporadically.
Despite being locked in, it was a family affair, and we enjoyed the time together. We enjoyed popcorn, hot chocolate, cards, and board games, and even had a spindly decorated tree.
I left the day after New Years to return north, this time crammed into a small VW bug with three students and a volunteer named Ken driving. As we approached the beginning of the rise to Thompson Pass, Ken decided he needed more speed and he shifted into a higher gear for the ascent. Suddenly, with no plan and no control, the VW spun 180 degrees and headed straight down the road back toward Valdez. The blood drained from Ken’s rotund face but returned when he realized we were still in our lane… but going downward on a straight path.
Ken gained control, turned around at a flat area, and proceeded more cautiously up the mountain. We arrived safely about three hours later, tired, and stiff from being crammed into that bug. We were alive and ready to study.
Now LEO is another story!