These are the Chronicles of Famous Surf Writer Ben Marcus and his trip into the Wilds of the Alaskan Frontier.
Latest Update: September 29, 2000

22:15 THE PIPELINE CLUB, VALDEZ, ALASKA

I had a bunch of dinner options in Valdez: House of Halibut, the Prospector, Valdez Inn, but I came to the Pipeline Club in honor of my illustrious relative, my great uncle Sid Schaefer, a semi-legendary Texas oilman who once played poker with Isaak Dinesen on a tramp steamer along the African coast, and who got rich mapping the salt domes of the Gulf of Mexico, and publishing a journal for companies in the drilling and pipeline industries.

In Sid's honor, I am in a smoky bar, eating fried halibut, sucking down more cigarette smoke and listening to country music, in a room full of roughnecks and other swarthy types. I am hoping to drop Sid Schaefer's name to see if anyone salutes it. But I don't think I'll be having many conversations, when you consider that I am working on my laptop computer, which is plugged into an electrical socket behind a Miller Genuine Draft beer sign, in a smoky bar full of roughnecks and other swarthy types.

Courage or stupidity, it's a thin line.

Tony Hawk is on ESPN right now.

I just had the halibut basket, which was pretty good, because the halibut was most likely fresh. Too bad they had to French Fry it. I could have ordered from the restaurant menu, but I didn't find that out in time, so there's another few hours off my life. Oh well. At least I got to see Valdez and the Tok Cutoff before I died of cholesterol poisoning.

Today was another mind-bending drive and change of terrain and climate, beginning in the Ice Planet of Tok then passing Mentasta Mountain, then the wide-open, scenic vista of the Elias/Wrangell Mountains, taking the turnoff to Valdez, moving alongside the last 100 miles or so of the Alyeska Pipeline, over Thompson Pass in the epically jagged Chugach Mountains and into the inland port of Valdez, which was downright balmy and tropical compared to what I had left in the morning.

Alaska is just amazing, how much the weather and terrain can change within a couple of hundred miles. But I've said that before.

Once again, I would have had to mount a 16 mm camera on the roof of the van and shoot the whole journey in time-lapse to do it justice.

It was mind-bending. The scale of this place never fails to leave you in awe. Words and photos can't do it justice. But I try.

Anyway, signed off for $200+ when I left Young's Hotel in Tok this morning. I didn't feel too bad, as that money kept me warm and entertained and I got some work done. Don Johnson has been teasing me about not sleeping in the van, but no one wants to ride out a blizzard in a refrigerator, no?

I turned left out of Tok and headed for a sign that said "Anchorage 328." I had the vague idea that Valdez was also on this road, and I figured I'd spend the night checking out Valdez, then push on to Anchorage tomorrow, in time to see that Reeve Aleutian Airline flight take off to Kamchatka.

It was another Winter Wonderland on the road out of Tok. There was a couple of feet of snow everywhere but on the road, which was clear and not icy.

The Tok Cutoff was almost completely empty, with the occasional big-rig or camper passing every 10 minutes or so. I was the only one going my direction, which made me wonder a little. The scenery along here was spectacular, or so I thought, because what was spectacular kept redefining itself and upping the ante along the way.

Stopped for breakfast at a Cholesterol CafÈ with a stellar view of the Mentasta Mountains. While eating scrambled eggs, sausage, toast and hash browns (no oatmeal) I had a chat with the Indian guy who ran the place. He had worked for years on the North Slope, which is where the Alyeska Pipeline begins, way up in Prudhoe Bay. He recommended I go to Valdez before Anchorage. And he said that Mentasta Mountain wasn't much. Pretty soon I'd be seeing Mount Sanford.

The road passed through the mountains for a while, then it all opened up as I got close to the Wrangell/St. Elias range, once again. This Wrangell/St. Elias Park has been to my left for about 500 miles, since leaving Haines. I think the park is about the size of Texas. It never seems to end.

It all opened up into a giant open area, with Mount Sanford in the middle of it, covered with snow and with a weird cloud cap on the top. Mount Sanford is a decent-sized mountain, more than 16,000 feet, but standing up in the middle of nowhere, with huge ice-fields sloping down either side of it. It looks surreal. "Like science fiction" as Dave Parmenter described it. He wasn't kidding. Once again, the scale of Alaska is staggering.

The sky was blue, the ice was white and the air was crisp and cold and perfect. I would stop every hour or so to take a photo and just soak it all up. There weren't many cars on the road, or airplanes in the sky. It all felt good.

With Mount Sanford and Mount Wrangell off to my left for a couple of hours, the road dipped down into a place that felt life summer.

This was the Copper River valley, I think, although the only river I saw was the Chistochina. Apparently some prospectors came to this area back in the 1890s, and actually found a fair bit of gold. That was what the historical sign said, "they actually found some gold." Apparently a lot of people didn't. Historical signs rarely scoff.

There wasn't much ice or snow around, the sun was warm and there was a radio station coming through loud and clear at 90.5 that played nothing but Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughn and Eric Clapton.

It was all pretty close to a religious experience, but you kinda had to be there.

The difference between Alaska and the rest of the world is that in Alaska, you're glad when you come across a convenience store, just to get a taste of civilization. I stopped at one at a place called Glenallen, where the road forks off to Valdez. There was a big, black dog out in front, which was mean and wolf-looking, but friendly. The woman inside said the dog was part Alaskan Timberwolf and part Akita.

Turning off toward Valdez, the good music gave away to an NPR program about America's energy policy. George W. Bush is warning about a possible recession, based on past recessions caused by rising fuel costs. There was talk about going into sacred Alaskan lands to go after the oil in the ground.

This was all kind of coincidental, as I was passing along the Alyeska Pipeline at the time, which runs along the road, in the direction of Valdez.

I like the awesomeness of nature as much as anyone, but I'm also pretty impressed by the huge, impossible engineering projects that the search for energy inspires. It's like they said in one of my favorite movies, "Local Hero."

"The oil business is the only business. Where would we be without oil?"

I love that Discovery Channel program on the Troll Natural Gas Platform, and what I know of the Alyeska Pipeline is also impressive. The engineering and expertise that go into these projects is human brainwork and effort at its best, but I also know why people don't want these engineers mucking up the tundra.

Along the way I stopped at a couple of places with info about the Alyeska Pipeline, and I read up on how they built it, how fast they built it and how much oil moves through it. It's all pretty amazing. They had to insulate the pipeline not to keep the oil from freezing, but to keep the oil (at 150 to 180 degrees) from melting the permafrost.

It's all pretty amazing and designed to be 100 per cent accident free, come freezing weather or earthquakes or whatever else Alaska can throw at it. The only thing the engineers couldn't prepare themselves for was human error, and you have to wonder how pissed everybody was at Joseph Hazelwood when he crashed his ship in Prince William Sound, and cast a long, oily shadow over the whole shebang. These oil guys can't afford even one little drop to get away from them, and the Exxon Valdez was one big drop.

Anyway, that NPR station faded in and out as I passed Alyeska Pump Station 12, which is there to push the oil up and over Thomson Pass. I went up and over Thomson Pass, and got a surreal eyeful of very tall, jagged mountains covered with snow.

What can I say, it was breathtaking, these impossibly rugged mountains, covered in snow, stretching off to the horizon, against a blue sky. I felt like a kid for awhile.

Over Thomson Pass, the weather got downright balmy and pleasant and seemed tropical compared to what I'd left in Tok this morning. It was really, really nice on the last 10 miles into Valdez, with waterfalls on the side of the road and the return of fall color.

It was so warm and pleasant, I stopped to try out my new gold pan, which had been calling to me. I shoveled up two pan-fulls of gravel, sifted them around, didn't see any color and gave up. I think I'll go buy one of those gas-powered dredges with the sluice-boxes and all that.

And then I was in Valdez, home to extreme skiing and the terminus of the Alyeska Pipeline. This is an oil town, no doubt about it. Not big, but clean and prosperous, with a decent-sized fishing fleet complimenting the millions of barrels of oil being offloaded on the other side of the bay.

I drove down to the Ferry terminal for the Alaska Marine Highway to see if there were any boats going anywhere interesting. I could catch a boat to Seward, but I think I'll drive to Anchorage instead.

From the ferry terminal I had a view of most of Valdez. All of Valdez Sound is surrounded by snow-capped mountains, but it was warm and nice at sea-level. It was nice to smell the ocean again.

I cruised around Valdez for about an hour, and saw all of it, including a drive to the other side of the bay, where the Pipeline ends. The facility isn't all that big. There are oil refineries in Richmond that are bigger. But what it lacks in size it makes up for in output.

I drove here and there, checked out the airport, bought some more lapel pins and was tempted to check into a hotel. This is an oil town, so the typical room was around $90. I almost bought a propane heater at a sporting goods store, but decided propane would be madness in an enclosed van. I went for the $18 RV park when the guy promised me a cable TV hookup.

Now I'm in the Pipeline Club, and people are looking at me a little funny. There's a house phone right over my head, and I'm listening to a lot of horny roughnecks calling their women to see what's up. There's county music on the jukebox, and Tony Hawk is still on ESPN

I took a lot of photos today and spent about an hour downloading them and writing captions.

From now on I'm just going to send them to sacklunch and have him post everything.

So this will be the last long-winded e-mail dispatch you'll be getting from me, unless I hear different from anyone who wants immediate, personal service.

From now on, this will all be at www.sacklunch.com/benm/

It's now 23:20. Off to Anchorage tomorrow, hopefully in time to see that Reeve Aleutian flight blast off for Kamchatka, without us on it, GEORGE!!!!

Naw, George was right to call it off. If the weather is half this weird in Kamchatka, we would have been in for it. Next year, leaving August 30, not September 30.

Hope all is well down there in the Lower 48.

A horrible band just started up live. They're playing Sex and Candy, country-style. After a day of Hendrix and Clapton and fresh air, this smoky bar with the swarthy rough necks and bad music is sacrilege.

I'm going to make for the RV park and see if that cable TV is working.

Oh, I did two good deeds today. Left $5 for the maids at Young's Hotel, and stopped to help a motorist who wasn't actually in any trouble.