Opinions

Fish will keep jumpin' in the Chuitna

It's not too early to think about fishing. A few weekends ago, Homer hosted the 24th Winter King Salmon Derby. During a slumpish time of year called "breakup" for a plethora of reasons, a mad dash was made past ice chunks that had postponed the event by a week. Bouncing sea otters in their wake, boats headed out for the fishing grounds. Every 10 minutes or so, prizes were given out over the VHF radio and at the end of the day, Ron Johnson's 25.65-pound king won him $54,528.25. I know! Any day of fishing, even the ones without catching, are considered lottery winners to my way of thinking, but to get paid for it is amazing. Congrats, sir, and way to go, Homer, for throwing another awesome fishing party.

We are so lucky to live on the waterways that bring us not just dinner but so much joy and memories. Cook Inlet is remarkable. Maybe if I'd grown up commercial fishing somewhere else, or waterskiing on a lake, or watching the sun go down on a mountain that wasn't Iliamna, I'd feel different.

[Controversial Chuitna coal mine shelved after investor backs out]

This week, an announcement came that made me cry. Wet-faced and laughing, I danced around my tiny home. Our beloved Inlet had dodged a bullet. PacRim has decided digging up the Chuitna River, mining all the coal out and rebuilding a river in 40 years maybe isn't a good idea. Maybe the memo about how coal is taking a back seat to fracking made it through. The Kentucky Coal Mining Museum just installed solar panels on its roof. Seriously. I couldn't make that up if I tried. So, PacRim decided the way God made the river is good enough and they won't try to redo it.

Finally!

Now the five species of salmon that have come home to that river since before any of us can remember won't have to just loiter in the Inlet waiting for the river to be rebuilt. Anchorage won't have to be distracted by sunsets silhouetting a giant coal operation on the horizon. The good people of Chuitna won't have to worry about their area getting jacked up by coal dust. Oh, it feels good to know a righteous fight has been won for the time being. Can we just have that for a minute?

Apparently not.

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Because of Hilcorp, our Inlet is having more gas leaks than the National Association of Refried Beans Convention. There are at least two ruptures in gas lines and a crude oil spill. It's not really a shocker that gas lines built in the 1960s are feeling feeble. The hundreds of miles that span a pretty raucous body of water are old enough to get their own AARP cards.

It gets tiresome to hear from developers that winter is just a real hard time to clean up any spills. Even more exhausting is the "it was only 3 gallons" claim when a 8-inch pipe containing almost 20,000 gallons ruptured. Really? Here's a thought: If it's too difficult to clean up your messy gas and oil leaks in the winter, maybe you should take the winter off. Go somewhere warm and read some books. Look at waterfalls and take hikes. Brazil should be on everyone's bucket list. "Have an oil spill and gas leaks in the same week" is not on anyone's bucket list, but Hilcorp can mark it off just the same.

Oh, I know we need oil and gas, but can't we have good corporate neighbors too? Why should we have to pick one? Hilcorp needs to stop having spills if they can't clean them up. Well, they need to stop having them, period. They need to shut down the Drift River Oil Terminal. The decision to store oil at the base of the ever-active Redoubt Volcano is pure proof that there wasn't drug testing when the decision was made to build it there. In 2009, during a massive eruption that sent mudslides down and around the holding tanks, we were told by Chevron (who owned them before Hilcorp purchased them) that it was an industry secret as to how much oil was stored there. Really. How could anyone know what kind of spill response is necessary or adequate if we don't know how much could spill? It's bad neighboring and time to shut that old thing down.

Shortly after the Exxon Valdez oil spill, I was told by a Texan overseeing part of the cleanup that I was taking the whole thing way too personally. He was right that I took it personally, but that really wasn't the problem. This life on the water is personal. The food we catch and the livelihoods so many of us rely on is personal.

A few years ago I stood in my friend Clem Tillion's garden. There were several not-so-lively crows hanging upside down by their feet on his fence. I asked him what that was about. He had a pretty simple explanation: "Life is personal, Shanny."

Protecting our water shouldn't be about profit. It's personal.

Shannyn Moore is a radio broadcaster.

The views expressed here are the writer's and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary@alaskadispatch.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@alaskadispatch.com. 

Shannyn Moore

Shannyn Moore is a radio broadcaster.

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