Papa's Alaska Stories 1953 - 1954

Frank A. Iwen

Description

Papa's Alaska Stories is about the young author and his adventures as an enforcement patrolman and a stream guard (a fish cop) with the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Post WWII Alaska, still a territory, was already experiencing change and rapid growth. Iwen's stories center around Alaska's commercial salmon fishery during the summer of 1953 and 1954. His tales of being lost at sea, living in isolation, and encounters with bears are punctuated with natural history and ecological information. The book closes with an environmental commentary.

Sujets

• Adventurers
• Biography
• Autobiography
• Explorers

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 05 mars 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781977210807
• Langue: English

Extrait

Papa’s Alaska Stories 1953 – 1954
A Young Man’s Frontier Adventures
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2019 Frank A. Iwen
v5.0

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.
http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-9772-1080-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908948

Cover Photo © 2019 Frank A. Iwen. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
FOR MARG AND PAULA
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ALASKA AT LAST: THE FIRST YEAR
THE YES BAY CHALLENGE
BACK TO BRISTOL BAY THE SECOND YEAR
THE MOGULS OF MONTAGUE ISLAND
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
My first trip to Yes Bay Lodge was in late July 2016. I had heard about the lodge from a friend of mine in Ketchikan when my wife Marg and I made a stopover on an Alaskan Maritime Highway trip in the late 1990s. My friend’s description of the place intrigued me and I pondered the possibility of a visit. A decision to visit the lodge after retirement finally became reality many years later. Although this trip was my first to Yes Bay Lodge, it was not my first trip to Yes Bay. Sixty-three years earlier, I spent six weeks at this exact site in Yes Bay. It was the tail end of my summer job with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. My summer began as an enforcement patrolman on a patrol boat in Bristol Bay and finished as a “fish cop,” a stream guard at Wolverine Creek. My mission was to prevent commercial fishing in the bay. I was living out a childhood dream of being in Alaska.
The lodge history describes the former occupant of the site as a fish hatchery; however, when I arrived in 1953 my partners called it a salmon cannery. What I first saw was a knocked-down partially burned heap of what was once a collection of buildings. Nothing about what I saw revealed the original function of what was once intact. The place was an ugly pile of debris, an insult to its surrounding beauty. That image of the past vanished when our floatplane descended for our landing. When I looked at the lodge, it initially was difficult to accept that this was in fact Yes Bay. Only the area surrounding the lodge convinced me that this was indeed the right place. In fact, I knew this place very well.
I applaud the Hack family for its magnificent restoration of the area. It is impossible for me to describe the magnitude of the cleanup that took place before implementing plans for the lodge. The burned dock and pilings, the stone cribs at the stream entrance, and any vestige of the old structure is gone. This new facility is in total harmony with its surroundings and worthy of its location. My new image of Yes Bay and Wolverine Creek is even more spectacular than any I had in my earlier visit.
I shared this return occasion with my son-in-law John Landers and my teenage grandson Isaac. Ike, as we call him, was the same age as I was when I landed in 1953. Both he and his dad heard my Yes Bay stories many times, and now we shared an adventure in that exact location. Without question, Yes Bay 2016 is more Ike’s story than it is about my return. Of course, fishing was our focus, and like all fishing trips, there is always at least one story about the big one that got away. This trip was no exception. We began dropping our lines for halibut early one afternoon. Ike had a strike before either John or I had hooks on the bottom. The fun of lift and crank then began. Ike is a strong, tall, wiry lad, but after ten minutes he said, “Dad, my arm is really getting tired.”
John quickly wrapped his right arm around Ike’s waist and helped him lift. They could feel that this fish was big and unwilling to experience daylight.
Captain Johnny told us that we were down at about four hundred feet. It takes time to bring any fish to surface from that depth. This fish was heavy and did not want to surface. After Ike gained some line on the spool, the fish would again plunge to the bottom. This behavior went on for an hour, and we never had more than a flash of a white belly. Lift and crank went on for another half hour before it finally surfaced, but only briefly. Once again, it sounded to the depths. It was huge. Captain Johnny was as excited as we were. This monster could be outside the species’ upper size slot for sport fishing. After almost two hours of the anglers’ lifting and cranking, the exhausted great halibut finally submitted to examination and measurement aboard our boat stern-mounted platform. It was too small to keep, but was an incredible length of seventy-eight inches with a chart-estimated weight of 240 pounds. The fish needed to exceed eighty inches to permanently remove it from the gene pool. After numerous photographs, Ike’s trophy returned to the depths. The two tired fishermen and I finished the day salmon fishing.
The stories told on the following pages are about events that occurred during my first two summers in Alaska. They are selections from a series titled “Papa’s Stories” documenting my life experiences as told to family and anyone else willing to listen. These stories take place when plans for Alaskan statehood were unsettled. Juneau did not have a new capital building or the wonderful bronze brown bear sculpture I saw on my last maritime trip. The very talented R. T. “Skip” Wallen, creator of The Resting Bear , was then a grade school student in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, dreaming about Alaska. Our country was engaged in a cold war with Russia and a hot conflict in Korea that ended in an uneasy truce. Japan was now friendly and China was not. A significant military presence in this northern territory was a response to these worldwide tensions. The military defense system that began with WWII continued to flourish after the war and contributed in many ways to Alaska’s great awakening. Commercial flights to Anchorage used the facilities of Elmendorf Air Force Base. Although small by today’s standards, the DC-3 (C-47), the primary workhorse carrier in both civilian and military service, was too large for the local airport. These larger commercial planes were also able to carry heavier cargo and more passengers to remote areas using military landing strips. It was a time when initial geological oil surveys took place on the north slope of the Brook’s Range. All this was decades before there were any oil leases or a pipeline. Major cities were smaller as were the few tourist ships that traveled the coast. The total state population was only a fraction of what it is today. This is the Alaska I first experienced.
Acknowledgments
I was always willing to tell a story when asked. I was especially pleased when people listened and appreciated a story not requested. When my brothers, Keith and Ken, and I got together, there was always an exchange of stories. Brother Ken once quipped with a smile, “I already heard that one a lot. Tell the one about the bears again.”
All who listened to my adventures unknowingly contributed to this publication by asking questions. Their questions helped me develop a more complete narrative about the events. It was my daughter Paula Landers and husband John who encouraged me the most to put the “Papa Stories” into print. Paula always enjoyed the Alaska stories. Unfortunately, she did not live to see the final product.
Friends supported my work variously through their enthusiasm, by reading copies, and by offering critical and helpful comments. Especially I want to thank David Susan, Paul T. Johnson, and Paul Krc. “Granddaughter” Kendra Borcherding gave me valuable assistance converting 35mm transparencies into digital files. I could not have done this task alone. Kendra’s mother Carol helped with software issues and Pamela Kosanovich assisted with final edits.
My grandson Isaac (Ike) Landers is responsible for all the computer skills that went way beyond my ability. He helped me bring text and photos together. I watched with grandfatherly pride as he so skillfully submitted documents and photos electronically to my editor. I also thank my support team at Outskirts Press for guiding me throughout the process of publishing Papa’s Alaska Stories .
TGBTG
ALASKA AT LAST: THE FIRST YEAR
When I applied for a summer job with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in Alaska, I was offered a position as an enforcement patrolman in Bristol Bay. I had no idea where in coastal Alaska that was. My library search quickly gave me all the information I needed. I was thrilled to learn that Bristol Bay is on the north side of the Aleutian Peninsula and an eastern extension of the Bering Sea. It is an area with some of the highest tides in the world, reaching levels of over thirty feet. I had never experienced tides. My childhood home, Algoma, east of Green Bay, Wisconsin, is on the western shore of Lake Michigan. Any gravitational influence the moon may have on this large fresh-water lake is not obvious. I also discovered that Bristol Bay supports the world’s greatest salmon fishery.
The year was 1953, the summer after my sophomore year at the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee. I grew up hearing friends talk about Alaska and often read about the far north.