Ned's Pipeline Trek Page

A few weeks ago, on the first day of this hike, my girlfriend Clara made an observation as we passed pipeline mile 792.

"You're one percent done," she said.

Now I sit beneath another mile marker--a rectangular orange sign with a big, black "700." Jane the dog and I have walked 100 miles from Valdez, which is about 12 percent of 800, I think. I know it's one-eighth the pipeline distance from Valdez to Prudhoe Bay. Let's just say we still have some steps ahead.

Jane and I have now crossed the Chugach Range on foot. About 20 miles ago, I walked backwards along the pipeline workpad to watch white Chugach peaks dip below the horizon. The moment proved less dramatic when they showed up again at another high spot, but our descent into the Copper River valley was marked by other signs:

• I'm not cold. Frosty mountain winds have disappeared, allowing me to wear shorts again. Jane hasn't shivered herself to sleep the past few nights.
• Green leaves are fuzzily emerging from the buds of not-yet-quaking aspen trees.
• Jane's pursuit of snowshoe hare is constant, because bouncing bunny butts are suddenly everywhere. The hares are now the color of a gray jay, although they still wear white shoes.
• My water bottle is browner. Spoiled by gin-clear mountain water that probably didn't even need filtering, I'm now dipping into brownish melt ponds rich with sediment.
• The mosquitoes have returned. The buggers didn't have a chance in the mountains, especially three nights ago when Jane and I woke to a tarp sagging with two inches of snow.

The Chugach Range is behind us. Surrounded here at mile 700 by a forest of twisted black spruce, I can see the Wrangell Mountains standing at blue-white attention to the east. Mount Drum has a visible 5,000-foot void where perhaps an ancient volcanic collapse took away a big chunk of mountain. Mount Wrangell, the active volcano in the group, isn't exhaling sulphur at the moment.

In the foreground of the Wrangells is something I haven't seen until now -- a broad, spruce-forested valley. I imagine I'll get accustomed to that sight as I approach the Interior.

Before I run out of words, I want to think back one last time to the Chugach Mountains. My friend John Arntz shared a few miles of them with me, particularly a valley south of Pump Station 12.

There, we watched, felt, and smelled weather, as curtains of sleet marched through the valley all day long. Rather than escape to the tarp, John, Jane, and I sat on rocks and let the waves flow over us. As they approached us, white walls of sleet slowly erased the hills. Soon, we were being pelted by ice pellets the size and shape of engagement-ring diamonds.

The sleet would then travel south of our rock, and sun would often peek through the clouds. The warmth was fleeting, however, as another curtain of sleet crept across the valley to engulf us. The weather pattern repeated itself all day. The sun finally prevailed at about 10 p.m., capping an amazing day that burned itself into John's and my memory. I'm not so sure if it had the same effect on Jane. She won't say.

Note: Anyone who wants to hike with Ned Rozell along the pipeline must first speak to the Geophysical Institute Information Office, then receive a letter of non-objection from Alyeska Pipeline Service Company.

Questions about Ned's trip? Contact the Geophysical Institute Information Office at (907) 474-7559 or through e-mail at information@gi.alaska.edu.

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