|
Nature and People in Odd Harmony in Alaskan Arctic Outback
Chicago Tribune
Posted July 30, 2003
BY JULIE DEARDORFF
DEADHORSE, Alaska - (KRT) - Don Grimes still laments shooting
the town's most popular grizzly bear for stealing french fries
from a second-floor hotel room.
Toby the bear was the local celebrity in Deadhorse, a sprawling
industrial settlement on the edge of North America's largest
oil field. Pictures of Toby's misadventures - including the
time he consumed a six-pack of beer in this dry town and publicly
embarrassed himself - still hang in a local hotel.
"He was my favorite," sighed Grimes, the North
Slope Bureau police officer in Deadhorse who had dozens of
run-ins with the grizzly before last year's fatal encounter.
"It was not a fun decision."
The proximity to wildlife is a major reason why anyone would
bother to come to this remote no-horse town, a bleak oil-workers
camp that lacks houses, schools, grocery stores, restaurants
and any hint of luxury.
During the brutal Arctic winters - when the temperatures
can plunge to 40 degrees below zero - the sun does not shine
for two months. In the summer, when the sun never sets, the
mosquitoes can literally drive the migrating caribou insane.
But travelers - and several tour groups - visit this inhospitable
region, lured by that famous Alaskan urge for a pioneering
peek beyond the horizon. Some drive the old Haul Road, which
parallels the Alaskan pipeline, and jump into the frigid Arctic
Ocean - as far north as one can travel on a road in North
America. Others want a glimpse of the wild animals that normally
shy away from humans.
---
But while driving along a dusty gravel road with Grimes,
I saw more animals in the oil fields in one hour than I did
while camping for a week in the neighboring Arctic National
Wildlife Refuge, which has virtually no trace of human intrusion.
Given that the welfare of the animals is a central issue in
the debate over whether drilling should take place in the
refuge's biologically rich coastal plain, development supporters
have seized on this odd twist.
"All wildlife up here has the right of way," said
Grimes, slowly driving past a yellow Caribou Crossing sign.
"I want to see the (caribou) herds grow and prosper,
and that's what I've seen. There's no downside to it."
Oil reserves were discovered in the Prudhoe Bay region in
1968, transforming several hundred miles of fragile Arctic
tundra into Alaska's gritty industrial heart that still produces
15 percent of the nation's oil. At the same time, the North
Slope's grassy tundra and shrubby hillsides play host to colorful
waterfowl, elegantly antlered caribou, imposing grizzly bears,
curious Arctic foxes and shaggy musk ox.
In the hotels, post office and work camps, postcards and
framed photos show the animals grazing happily next to pipelines,
oil rigs and other industrial infrastructure in the Prudhoe
Bay region. Even the signs in the bathroom stalls are decorated
with images of smiling caribou.
The visibility of the animals is seen as proof that industry
and wildlife can peacefully coexist.As an example of this
environmental harmony, the oil industry points out that the
central Arctic caribou herd has increased since oil exploration
started in the 1970s. Some insist that the elevated pipelines
are not hazards to migration but havens of shade in the treeless
tundra.
But while governmental studies show that oil development
has affected the wildlife and the ecosystem, and that crude
oil spills are a constant threat and a reality, animal-loving
workers believe appropriate precautions have been taken.
"The animals feel safe here," said Brian Moye,
the front-desk clerk at the Arctic Caribou Inn, a flimsy construction
trailer that has been designated the town's "tourist
hotel."
"We have strict rules. If you walk out on the tundra
to take a picture of the caribou (rather than standing on
the road), you could lose your job," added Moye, who
photographs animals in his spare time and has an Arctic fox
as the screen saver on a computer.
---
With few public roads in the area and tightly controlled
access to the oil areas, the only way to see the wildlife
- unless it breaks into your hotel room - is to take a $37,
hourlong tour that begins with a video presentation at the
Arctic Caribou Inn. The tour, approved by the oil industry,
used to be four hours long and started at the beginning of
the pipeline, which extends 800 miles south to Valdez.
But concerns about pipeline sabotage after the Sept. 11,
2001, terrorist attacks have turned it into a brief and bumpy
7-mile school bus journey along a graveled, restricted-access
road, which ends at the Beaufort Sea.
On a recent Saturday morning, guide Angela Graham pointed
out the highlights: green drill sites that can be identified
in the fog, vibration dampeners hanging off the pipeline and
an assortment of pump stations and other equipment.
The day's first tour group - 21 high school students from
Ohio, an elderly couple from Oregon and five friends from
St. Louis and Boston - watched a fox trot across the tundra
with dinner in its mouth and spotted several caribou milling
at the side of the road. Thrilled with the sightings, many
lunged across the bus to take photos through the cloudy windows.
But as the bus rumbled back to the hotel, Shane Hu, 27, a
software consultant from St. Louis, wanted to hear more about
the negative consequences of development.
"It's been very one-sided so far," he said to Graham.
Graham looked puzzled and couldn't think of anything. But
around Deadhorse, grizzlies raised on eating garbage provide
at least one example. For years, bears have been such a huge
problem at the landfill and trash bins that a sign near the
check-in window at the inn warns, "Bears Are in the Area.
They like to Maul People. Be Careful Outside. No Kidding!"
When the outdoor garbage facilities were bear-proofed, a
handful of the hungry animals began foraging indoors. Before
Toby - who was orphaned when his mother was hit by a car -
there was Lucky, a 310-pound bear who spent two days in 2001
entering residential buildings and a testing laboratory. Safety
officials finally found Lucky eating dinner out of a garbage
can in the Prudhoe Bay Hotel, the same hotel Toby last patronized.
Lucky was the fifth bear to be killed that year.
Chicago Tribune
- Back
to News Home -
|