In the early 1950s, many people thought Alaska was remote, practically inaccessible. My grandparents were not among them.

During WWII, their son, my father, was stationed with the Army Air Corps as a test pilot at Ladd Field near Fairbanks. He loved Alaska and vowed to return with his family to make it their home after the war. I was seven years old the summer of 1951 when he quit his job as a Northwest Airlines pilot and moved our family from Seattle to Anchorage to begin flying for Pacific Northern Airlines.

Tom, Bill and Grandma.

The first summer in Anchorage, we all pitched in to help Dad and friends build our two-story house. The second summer it still sported Fir-Tex siding and had no door on the lone bathroom. The good news is the plumbing was now indoors although it was still a few years before the sanitary outhouse conversion to a smokehouse was complete.

The next summer I was nine when my grandparents brought my cousin Tom with them and drove their new 1953 Ford on a five day journey up the Alcan Highway from Missoula, Montana. They arrived after dinner one evening, in high spirits, not concerned about the thick dust and excited that the car escaped any dents or dings from rocks along the way.

The moment the car stopped at the end of our driveway and Grandpa emerged from the driver’s side door, I launched myself at him, reveling in the comfort of his red and black checked Pendelton shirt that smelled of the Black Jack gum he always carried in his pocket next to the Tums. Toothpicks would be in the other pocket. Grandma wore a blue flowered dress as she hurried around to enfold me in a cheerful hug of her own. I don’t remember ever seeing her in anything but a dress.

Tom burst out of the car’s back seat, gave quick hugs all around before racing for the doorless bathroom. He was eight years old, the same age as my brother Bill who tried to look happy to see his grandparents as he waited impatiently for his cousin to reappear.

“We only had one flat the entire trip!” exclaimed Grandpa, “and that was in Dawson, so we didn’t have any trouble getting it fixed.” My grandpa was a cautious man and didn’t have to explain that he topped off the gas tank at every opportunity, eliminating concerns about running out of gas.

My three-year-old sister Bonnie eagerly accepted hugs and let Grandpa carry her into the house while Mom showed him and Grandma their room.

“Where are the window covers?” asked Grandma. “I’ll never be able to sleep with all this light.” Realizing she meant the extended daylight of our Anchorage summer, Mom pulled a green wool army blanket from the closet and then found a hammer and nails. She nailed the blanket to the top of the window frame before producing a piece of rope to tie it back in the morning. Being proactive, she didn’t wait to be asked before bringing out another blanket to hang from the bathroom door frame.

We kids were sent to bed shortly afterward. I can only guess that the adults weren’t too far behind, especially my grandparents after their long drive.

The next morning, I was excited about our breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. Bill and Tom also ate eagerly. Mom talked often over later years about how she could never quite forgive Grandma that morning for saying she disliked the taste of our “cold storage” eggs since she was used to fresh eggs from her own chickens and ducks. I never understood Mom’s ongoing anger about that.

Grandpa and Grandma would only be with us four days before heading back down the Alcan, so after breakfast Mom packed a picnic lunch and we all piled into the big, old, dark green GMC. With Dad at the wheel, we lumbered down the Seward Highway that had been completed slightly less than two years earlier. We wound along Turnagain Arm for at least an hour with the sheer rock, nauseating to look at directly, rising to our left and the expansive waters of the Arm on our right. As we rounded the end of Turnagain Arm, Dad said, “There’s a glacier in here, about a half-mile back. I’ve seen it from the air on my flights to Kenai. Would you like to see it? We could hike in.”

Photo compliments of USGS. Portage Lake and Glacier, 1956.

“Sure,” said Grandpa.

“Yes,” said Grandma.

“Let’s go!” shouted Bill and Tom together, jumping up and down on the back seat.

Dad pulled to the right shoulder of the Highway and stopped near the little town of Portage, at that time a community of less than 100 residents. A little more than a decade later, the 1964 Good Friday earthquake caused the shoreline to drop 6 feet or more allowing high tides to flood the town and surrounding area with salt water. All that remains today of the original village are a few structures sinking into the nearby mud flats and scattered stands of ghostly looking, dead trees, all of which can be easily seen from the Seward Highway.

As we began crawling out of the GMC behemoth, I wondered how my grandmother could feel comfortable in today’s dress, another flowered one, although faded and old since this was a casual trip. She also had on heavy nylons and the thick European-looking sandals she always wore. Grandpa had on another Pendelton shirt, green today and hopefully with more Black Jack in one pocket, heavy canvas-looking pants, and sturdy shoes. The rest of us wore jeans, cotton shirts, sturdy leather shoes and thick socks. We each had a jacket to protect against cool breezes that always seemed to blow across the frigid Arm waters.

Mom carried the green canvas knapsack with our picnic lunch as we crossed the highway and headed off through the thick brush of willows and alders, creating our own trail in sight of a little stream that flowed toward the Arm. Dad said the stream was probably runoff from the glacier we were all eager to see.

I felt a touch of anxiety as I remembered another glacier the summer before. We found it right next to a road that may have been a side road from the Richardson Highway, far east of where we were now. Dad had parked beside the road at the base of that glacier. Mom and Bonnie waited in the car while Dad took me and Bill by our hands as we gingerly walked up the icy slope onto the glacier. Suddenly, looking into a beautiful blue crevasse, we heard a thunderous CRACK! Dad leapt off that glacier like a startled deer with Bill and me holding tight to his hands, literally airborne.

Today we walked on the uneven ground, hard with various sizes of smooth granite rocks, no doubt rounded by the receding glacier. For what seemed like hours we walked over downed trees, lifting bleached and dead branches out of our way. A moderate breeze kept the pesky mosquitoes at a distance, so we didn’t have to douse ourselves in that horrid 6-12 repellent. Bill and Tom ran in and out of the bushes, peering back at us when Grandma or Mom cautioned them to stay close. We talked loudly to keep the bears away, although between the boys’ shrieks and hollers and Mom and Grandma calling them back it probably wasn’t necessary.

“I’m sure we’ve gone more than a half mile,” Dad said finally, more and more puzzled that we didn’t see any sign of a glacier. He and Grandpa took turns carrying Bonnie when she tired of navigating the heavy underbrush and uneven ground. Finally, to my relief, Bonnie began to whine about being hungry. I felt famished myself and, as the oldest child, knew better than to complain. That was a privilege reserved for company and the youngest children.

We found a level spot in a clearing near the stream that offered a wondrous view of the surrounding mountains. We set our jackets down to sit on while Mom began laying out our typical camping fare: cold Spam sandwiches on white bread with margarine. I’m gagging as I write it now – as I pretty much did then. Bonnie got a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I wondered why we couldn’t all have that even though I preferred raspberry jam to the grape jelly mom liked to use on them. I was glad to see she had also packed potato chips, apples, and Fig Newtons, all of which we washed down with an orange-flavored juice drink. The adults enjoyed coffee poured into tin cups from a heavy metal thermos.

After lunch, Tom looked around and said, “Hey! Where’s Grandma?”

“Ssshh!” Mom hissed. “Give her some privacy.” Bill and Tom glanced at each other before racing off to throw stones into the stream.

“Joe, I think we should head back,” Mom said softly. “Your mother is getting tired.”

Dad looked at Grandma who sighed and nodded reluctantly. Dad agreed although he still wondered where he went wrong.

“I was sure we would find the glacier.” He sighed.

As we each gathered our belongings and packed up, the general mood was disappointment. We retraced our steps back to the GMC on the highway and tumbled in. It was very quiet in the car as Dad turned it around and began the long drive home along the winding two-lane Seward Highway.

“It’s a shame we didn’t find the glacier,” remarked Grandma at last.

“Yes,” said Grandpa, “it is. I guess we’ll just have to come back to Alaska another time.”

Ever since that day, when anyone wondered about a distance to some place, one of us would say, “Oh, it’s probably a half mile” and everyone would laugh. Around twenty years later, long after a paved road led to Portage Glacier, I remembered that story and realized that Portage Glacier was the one Dad had been looking for that day so long ago.

Out of curiosity, the next time I drove down there, I checked mileage from the Seward Highway turnoff to the glacier parking area to see how close we had been on our trek. The odometer said five miles! We may have walked more than half a mile that day and we were still not even close.

My grandparents drove the Alcan four more times over the next couple of decades. One trip they brought my Mom’s parents from Nebraska in addition to Tom again who moved his own family up many years later. Portage Glacier was always one of their requested places to visit.

Individual news stories are posted on the APRN news page. You can subscribe to APRN’s newsfeeds via email, podcast and RSS. Follow us on Facebook at alaskapublic.org and on Twitter @aprn.

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Cleveland Eruption Continues
By Stephanie Joyce, KUCB – Unalaska

Cleveland Volcano continues to be active, with two additional blasts shaking the volcano on Sunday evening, and Monday morning. Neither explosion produced ash clouds large enough to interfere with air traffic transiting the region.

Newtok Residents Describe Injuries From Era Plane Crash
By Mark Arehart, KYUK – Bethel

An Era Alaska Cessna 207 went down Saturday near the village of Newtok. Some passengers suffered injuries after the plane landed short of the runway and skidded across a local river. But Era is disputing the extent of the injuries.

Hundreds Gather In Juneau For Malaspina Tours
By Casey Kelly, KTOO – Juneau

Hundreds of Juneau residents flocked to the downtown waterfront Saturday to celebrate two major components of Southeast Alaska’s economy – the Alaska Marine Highway System and the fishing industry.

Decades After WWII, Alaska’s First Governor Gets His Discharge Papers
By Alexandra Gutierrez, APRN – Juneau

At the onset of World War II, the territory of Alaska was seen as too big, too remote, and too sparsely populated to defend. That is, until it was attacked by Japanese forces. In response, a few thousand residents came together to form the Alaska Territorial Guard.

New Airplane Will Improve Medevac Service In Southeast
By Alexandra Gutierrez, APRN – Juneau

A new turboprop aircraft will make it easier for a medical transport service to land in some Southeast Alaska communities. Airlift Northwest will operate a Turbo Commander as well as the Learjet between Juneau and rural communities.

Americorps Workers Embrace Sitka
By Ed Ronco, KCAW – Sitka

In our on-going series about culture in Alaska, we’ve been talking about how we define ourselves and live our lives as Alaskans. Last week, we asked how long you have to live here to call yourself an Alaskan.

Visting Artist Merges Theater With Academics
By Brianna Gibbs, KMXT – Kodiak

Students at the Kodiak High School and Middle School dabbled in theatric storytelling last week. A handful of classrooms participated in a two week artist in schools program that culminated with a presentation of their work on Thursday.

Terra MODIS satellite image of May 4 eruption plume from Cleveland/Credit: NASA

Cleveland Volcano continues to be active, with two additional blasts shaking the volcano on Sunday evening, and Monday morning. Neither explosion produced ash clouds large enough to interfere with air traffic transiting the region.

According to Alaska Volcano Observatory scientist-in-charge John Power, the volcano’s continuous, low-level eruption appears to be waning.

“So far it has not presented anything that would give us an indication of a larger eruption or a greater hazard to come.”

Nevertheless, because of the possibility that sudden explosions could produce ash clouds rising above 20,000 feet, the aviation alert level remains at orange.

Original story: Saturday, May 4, 8:04 pm

Cleveland Volcano is erupting once again. Three small explosions shook the volcano Saturday morning, and a low-level eruption is ongoing.

John Power is a seismologist with the Alaska Volcano Observatory. He writes in an email that the explosions were “similar in size to what we have seen over the past several years,” although he notes that it is unusual to have three in a row.

Power says satellite imagery and a webcam in the nearby village of Nikolski show that the volcano is continuing to emit small amounts of gas, ash and steam, with plumes rising to 15,000 feet. There’s no real-time monitoring network on the volcano.

Cleveland lies on a major international flight path, and in light of the explosions the Observatory has raised the aviation alert level from yellow to orange. They warn that there is the possibility of sudden explosions reaching above 20,000 feet, but so far there have been no reported disturbances to air travel.

Cleveland is one of the most active volcanoes in the Aleutians, erupting roughly two dozen times in 2012. It’s last major eruptive period was in 2001, when the volcano sent ash clouds up to 39,000 feet.

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An Era Alaska Cessna 207 went down Saturday near the village of Newtok.  Some passengers suffered injuries after the plane landed short of the runway and skidded across a local river. But Era is disputing the extent of the injuries.  KYUK’s Mark Arehart has more

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Hundreds of Juneau residents flocked to the downtown waterfront Saturday to celebrate two major components of Southeast Alaska’s economy – the Alaska Marine Highway System and the fishing industry. KTOO’s Casey Kelly has more.

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At the onset of World War II, the territory of Alaska was seen as too big, too remote, and too sparsely populated to defend. That is, until it was attacked by Japanese forces. In response, a few thousand residents came together to form the Alaska Territorial Guard. Once the war was over, the guard disbanded, and those who served went back to their daily lives. But they were never formally released from duty. Decades later, these guardsmen are now finally getting their discharge papers. APRN’s Alexandra Gutierrez reports that some notable Alaskans are among them.

When Dennis Egan opened up some official looking mail before heading into work last week, he wasn’t expecting to find his late father’s discharge papers.

“It was this formal U.S. government [package], and I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’ve been summoned to jury duty.’ So, I open this box, and there it is. And I just broke down, in fact, I didn’t even come in.”

Dennis, a state senator who represents Juneau, knew that his dad Bill was part of the Alaska Territorial Guard. Before serving as delegate to the constitutional convention and then as the state’s first governor, Bill Egan had flown planes during World War II. He even earned a medal for making it through a kamikaze attack. Dennis figured his dad had been released from service when the war ended, and that the papers had just been lost back in 1964.

“I didn’t have a clue,” says Egan. “I thought all this thought was just destroyed in the earthquake in their home in Valdez.”

Bill Egan isn’t the only member of the territorial guard not to have his discharge papers. He’s one of six thousand. After the war, the guardsmen were thanked for their help with the war effort, but there was no formal paperwork documenting that their service had come to an end.

“They were busy. They were trying to protect us,” says Egan. “They weren’t too worried about fancy medals and crap back then. And things were just overlooked.”

Back in 2000, Congress passed a bill to rectify that. It requires the Secretary of Defense to issue discharges to everyone who had served in the Territorial Guard. Those papers let living guardsmen apply for benefits available to every other veteran of World War II, and they also carry a lot of emotional significance for family members of guardsmen who have already passed.

Verdie Bowen directs the Alaska Office of Veterans Affairs, and he’s in charge of the effort. So far, they’ve completed more than 1,500 discharges. With so much time since the war, it’s been tough tracking down every member of the guard. He says that often, relatives of deceased guardsmen don’t even realize their family members served. That hit home at one ceremony he was involved in last year.

“What caught me off guard was the crew chief, who was on the Black Hawk helicopter that is currently serving the Alaska National Guard, stood there and did not realize that his grandfather had served in the Alaska Territorial Guard,” says Bowen. “He didn’t know we were presenting that medal to his grandfather when we flew in.”

Bowen says that the Territorial Guard was critical to the war effort, and that there’s no reason to treat them differently from veterans in other states. They came from a hundred different communities, stretching from Ketchikan to Barrow, and they served without pay. They picked up downed pilots, they reported on the movements of Japanese ships, and shot down fire balloons.

Dennis Egan wishes he knew more about that history and his father’s time in the Territorial Guard. Bill died in 1984, and he didn’t really talk much about the war when he was alive. That’s part of why it was only this year that Dennis learned his dad had never been discharged. He says that even though it’s been so long since the war and so long since his father passed, he’s glad to have these papers now and thankful for the connection.

“I had an enormous sense of relief. An enormous sense of closure.”

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A new turboprop aircraft will make it easier for a medical transport service to land in some Southeast Alaska communities.

Airlift Northwest will operate a Turbo Commander as well as the Learjet between Juneau and rural communities. The turboprop will allow the medical service to fly into Gustavas, Skagway, Haines, Hoonah, Kake, and Prince of Wales Island.

Juneau Director of Operations and pilot Greg Clausen says the new plane is easier to land on these small towns’ shorter runways.

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In our on-going series about culture in Alaska, we’ve been talking about how we define ourselves and live our lives as Alaskans. Last week, we asked how long you have to live here to call yourself an Alaskan. In many of our state’s communities, there’s a transient population – seasonal workers, or folks in town for a finite term of service at a job…or as a volunteer. They’re not going to stay beyond a year or two….at least, they don’t plan to. But as Ed Ronco found out in Sitka, just because they’re short-timers, doesn’t mean they don’t belong.

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