Exxon crew ready to fly to the Exxon Valdez 1998.
After the Exxon big wigs arrived from Texas a new sense of order prevailed in our organization. Many meetings were held and people emerged with specific tasks. Within a week security was tightened to something I’ve never witnessed before in rural Alaska, by today’s standards it would still seem lax. Ad hoc “save the birds” facilities were up and going, beach clean-up crews working, Exxon placed laborers in and around the grounded tanker to repair damage and contain the oil, and communication was established in the sound, which was no mean feat in itself. Communication towers were built and placed strategically so that pilots could radio each other and talk to the control tower at the airport, something that did not exist before. Our department housed the Exxon Chief Pilot who took command of air operations.
One day I was aware of top, top secret meetings. Media were crawling everywhere trying to get a better story, all the major US networks and those of many foreign countries were present but did not have access to our area. The buzz among employees was that the President of Exxon was coming for a visit and it was to be kept secret, he wanted to arrive, do a survey, have a briefing with his top people and leave before anyone knew he was there. This was planned with good reason, by now the Exxon haters, and crazy fanatics were everywhere. It was a dicey time. Not only was the task of finding a way to contain and clean-up the massive oil spill eluding everyone’s best efforts, but now the concern and worry of being accosted or harassed by haters took valuable time away from working on a solution.
Every idea and suggestion was tried. One day I answered a call from the President of Norway who offered to loan a cold water clean-up vessel and techniques to help. The whole world was watching, waiting, speculating, and grieving, just as it is today with the hideous debacle in the Gulf of Mexico. Every available boat was rented for clean-up or transportation, every van was commandeered, all for outrageous prices. One day early on everything stopped cold. Barrels and barrels of fuel had been delivered to fueling locations for use in the clean-up, but no one was in charge of returning the empties for refilling. There were no more barrels available in the state. No planes could fly, no boats, nothing. All the empty barrels had to be returned to Valdez to refill. Precious time was lost, people were angry. Every day we seemed to spend our time putting out fires. It was likened to the front lines of a war. We soon grew tired, stressed, tempers flared, fatigue set in, much like battle fatigue…..
More tomorrow,
Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist
