TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/050889/05088900.005

Text File | 1992-09-23 | 5.4 KB | 107 lines

                                                                                ENVIRONMENT, Page 84

Nature Aids the Alaska Cleanup


Despite disappointing progress, hope is in the air

By Jordan Bonfante


    When breaks in the stormy weather permit, cleanup crews in
a bay of Alaska's Eleanor Island come ashore in landing craft
meant for infantry assaults. Off Kenai Peninsula, 200 miles
away, the 425-ft. Soviet ship Vaydaghubsky stalks
chocolate-colored oil on the high seas. At the top of Montague
Strait, south of Valdez harbor, the 17,000-ton troopship U.S.S.
Juneau has set anchor. The 400 men aboard are on an expedition
to cleanse oil-stricken Smith Island before the annual arrival
of seals.

    A month after the Exxon Valdez disgorged 11 million gallons
of crude oil into Alaska's Prince William Sound, the effort to
combat the worst such spill in U.S. history assumed the tempo
of a military operation. By last week Exxon alone had mobilized
460 vessels, 26 aircraft and the first 2,850 members of what is
expected to be a 4,000-person cleanup brigade. Said a company
executive: "We could invade a small country with what we have
deployed here."

    For all the show of force, however, the recovery drive has
made little tangible progress. Exxon estimated that it had
cleaned a scant 3,300 ft. of beach, leaving 304 miles of
oil-covered shoreline to go in Prince William Sound alone. The
company claimed that it would pick up the remaining seaborne oil
within the next two weeks and scrub all the fouled shoreline
before cold weather arrives in September. But Alaskan officials
grimaced with skepticism. "Sounds too rosy," said Dennis Kelso,
Alaska's environmental conservation commissioner. "Look at
Exxon's track record till now -- too little, too late, and too
many excuses."

    Fortunately, nature itself, in fits and starts, seemed to
be coming to the rescue. Four days of rain and snowstorms last
week helped break up the floating oil and cleanse a number of
shores. Moreover, the coming of the long spring and summer thaw
is sure to create a rush of rivulets and waterfalls that will
help wash off the shoreline. Observed John Robinson, of the
National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration: "In the end,
nature has to do this job."

    The job will be enormous. By last week the oil slick had
traveled across an 1,800-sq.-mi. area. To stop its advance,
"skimming" vessels sucked up the crude for transfer to dredging
barges. Onshore, ten-man crews hosed down rocks with heated
seawater. The two-pronged drive to clear sea and shore was
plagued by snafus and logistical problems. As the weathered oil
hardened into a debris-laden "mousse," the Soviet skimming ship
found that the crude was too thick for its pumps and managed to
recover only a few hundred barrels. And as the point of the oil
slick advanced, it stretched supply lines farther and farther
from the Valdez staging base. Without proper floating barriers
to protect their harbor, fishermen in the village of Seldovia
had to fashion their own out of logs, tarpaulins, sheets and
towels.

    While cleanup crews battled the slick, the toll on Alaskan
wildlife continued to mount. The body count of 458 fallen
otters and 2,889 dead birds represented only a fraction of the
casualties. Up to 2,000 otters may have perished. More than
33,000 birds may have died in Prince William Sound alone. To
save the 6.5 million sandpipers and 10 million other shorebirds
starting to migrate through the region, wildlife experts are
trying to scare them away from their favorite stopping-off
sites. The naturalists have set up big-barreled propane-powered
cannons that are timed to go off noisily at regular intervals.
They even erected 37 scarecrows dressed in Salvation Army
clothing.

    The impact on fishing has been crippling. After tests
showed possible contamination, Alaskan authorities canceled the
fishing seasons for herring, herring roe and pot shrimp
throughout Prince William Sound. The salmon season, due to start
in mid-May, remains in doubt. "Sure, Exxon may pay in the end,"
fumed Sandy Cesarini, co-owner of the Sea Hawk Seafood Co. in
Valdez. "But we sweated blood to build this place. What about
the future? Everyone in the sound feels violated."

    The long-term effect on fish and other wildlife is
difficult to gauge. Nobody knows how much oil may be sinking to
the seabed, for instance. One hopeful note was sounded by the
National Marine Fisheries Service in Juneau. Tests showed that
salmon eggs and crab larvae, at least, may have escaped
contamination because the oil became diluted and degraded to
nontoxic levels before those organisms were exposed to it.

    In the village of Cordova, 500 fishermen and townspeople
stood at the waterfront in a driving rain and staged a "requiem"
for Prince William Sound. State environment commissioner Kelso,
on hand to address the group, tried to ease the sense of gloom.
He recounted to the throng that on a recent inspection trip to
Knight Island he had seen a great pod of whales offshore. There
were as many as 40, so close that he could hear the sound of
their exhalations when they surfaced and the slap of their
flukes when they dived once more. Seeing how the huge sea
mammals were skirting the oil but not fleeing the area gave
Kelso new optimism about Alaska's ability to recover. Said he:
"I realized that there is hope."