Lovely Lake Clark

Queen of Bristol Bay, Bella Hammond. Photo by Ben Knight

Lake Clark is a world of its own, crystal clear waters glowing green, mountains circling all around, so many fish every cast brings one in. Grayling, Lake Trout, pink stripes, winglike fins, and poka dots. And a lovely afternoon with Bella Hammond, wife of the late governor Jay Hammond. Jack—our 82 year-old guide who exclaims every time he catches a fish like an 8 year old boy hooking his first—says, “Bella, you will love. If the natives of Alaska had a queen, it would be Bella.” She is a warm, quiet woman, one who enjoys her solititude. Yet her passion for protecting this area welcomes three strangers to her dining room table for tea. She heats water on an antique wood stove, porcelain black edges shining bright. Bella speaks of her own love for Lake Clark and for the waters of Bristol Bay, of Jay and his shared passion, of her lifestyle she treasures here, the lifestyle still shared by many. It was a memorable day for us all, and I felt a sense of honor to share the time we did… but then, I see more that this is exactly what it’s about—more and more people coming together out of concern for the mining threats facing this place, coming together over this fishery and all that it supports. Bella steps forward out of a belief that the more voices heard, the more power we have to gain protection. Thank you to Lake Clark National Park for your help with historical photos. It was a privilege to spend the evening with John Branson, eating salmon soup and talking Bristol Bay history. If only Jack could come on the Koktuli with us. He was a joy we miss already.

Making Friends with Flies

No Pebble waves high above drying sockeye in Nondalton. Photo by Lauren Oakes.

“I think I am really starting to smell,” I noted today, looking down at the same set of clothes I’ve been wearing since June. Ben noted, “Lauren, the swarm of flies actually cleared away from the fish when you moved in to make photographs.” We’re hanging in there, cleaned up a little this evening thanks to the beautiful waters out the front door of the Nondalton Village Community Center and the wonderful Belluta family down the street. They, along with many others from this quiet village, have so kindly taken us in, tolerated showers, and fed us while we awaited a plane drop of food from anchorage for two days. I admire the patience that comes so naturally to the locals around us. Any longer and I would have started building our own fish camp here; yet I suspect two days in village time is nothing. It doesn’t take long for one to really see and understand how connected families are to the fish that return year after year, how life and culture is indeed so deeply tied to the renewable resources here. A toast today to Dr. Carol Ann Woody, brilliant fisheries consultant, who somehow manages to juggle white paper deadlines, field research schedules, and emergency food packing, bear canisters and all, for some hungry folks in the Alaskan bush. And to Rick and Nancy Delkiette, who so kindly shared the day with us, helping us learn more about the Athabaskan way of life.

Nancy Delkiette hangs her fish. Photo by Lauren Oakes.

And thanks to all those who have donated to the Face Fund. It’s actually just a ploy to raise more money for the film, sometimes you gotta take one for the team. So far it has raised us evacuation insurance from my mother, who so kindly sent me some sort of magic number today over the internet. It better be a magic number given our experience with calling cards thus far. And speaking of moms, Happy Birthday to Ben’s mom.

Delicious beaver

Mary Olympic shows off her semi-automatic 22 caliber rifle that she used to bust a cap in a brown bear, taking him down with one shot. The fuzzy wuzzy had been messing with her salmon . Photo by Ben Knight

Add beaver to the list of things I’ve put ketchup on. Mary Olympic, 75, an Igiugig (Iggy-ah-gig) village elder and great-grandmother prefers mustard on her beaver. I guess if you like your beaver tender, it’s good to let it dry before you cook it. Who knew? Rumor has it the tail is the best part, but I wasn’t offered the tail. I was offered something that didn’t resemble food, but I was hungry, there was ketchup, and there was a little dark meat left near a joint. It reminded me of pot roast, but it tasted like a cross between a really dry chicken liver and what I would imagine dog tasting like. Not a lab per say, but maybe a street dog that hasn’t bathed regularly or had his shots and swims around ponds with a flat tail. It was a tad gamey, so maybe more like a wild dog. The next day lunch was smoked salmon and rice. I thought ok, can’t go wrong with salmon and rice. I peered into the pot and to my horror there were hundreds of maggots fleeing the meat of the salmon and twitching around in the hot water. I didn’t say anything… I just tried to stay calm. I whispered to Travis “dude, check this out” and ushered him over to the stove. “Are you gonna eat it?” he said. After a defeated sigh I replied “I guess so”. By the grace of God, Martha, Mary’s daughter saw the maggots and took the pot outside and dumped it. By that time I had already prepared myself to do the “polite thing” and eat it.

True story: This one time… [at fish camp] Mary was in her boat on the Kvichak river and noticed a bull caribou swimming across. Seeing an open opportunity to score some serious meat, she pulled her boat along side of it and held its head underwater until it was at the mercy of the current. You go girl.

Mary Olympic keeps an eye on her smokehouse as strips of salmon breathe in their third day of flavor. Photo by Ben Knight

We had the pleasure of meeting Tim Bristol, the director of Trout Unlimited Alaska. Tim has been fundraising and writing grants [busting his ass] to help make this film possible. I feel like Tim could be raising the bar for Trout Unlimited as a whole. For him to sack up and take on a development of this size seems extraordinary. For him to dedicate his time and sacrifice an employee for an entire summer because he believes in the power of a documentary… well, just add Tim to the list of phenomenal people that I don’t want to let down.

This is Lauren’s mangled forehead shortly after the accident. Donations for costly the reconstructive surgery can be made sent to:

Attn: Bristol Bay Film Project/Lauren’s Face Fund
Hillary Coley, CFO,
Trout Unlimited 1300 North 17th Street Suite 500
Arlington, Virginia 22209

Beware: Really long sentence ahead. Besides being embedded with a sweet family in a quaint native village of 25 at the mouth of the spectacular Kvichak (queejack) river while spawning sockeye motor up the banks in the gin clear water like a trail of ants across a picnic, everything is going straight to hell. Our primary hard drive is dying a slow pitiful death and TU girl just slingshot a led weight into her forehead after her hook broke free from a running salmon. (Go sockeye go! Hustle! Swim it like you stole it! Go blanket the streambed in sperm you spunky bastard!) After the bleeding stopped and the color came back to her face I talked her out of chartering a $1,000 flight to Anchorage for emergency reconstructive surgery. A handy local woman with some first aid skills came to the rescue shortly and taped her forehead back together. Dear Tim, [Lauren’s boss] you may not recognize her brutalized face when she returns to work, but just try to remember that she’s still the same Lauren you used to know and try not to stare. Just stick her in the back where she won’t have contact with the public.

Welcome to the current Felt Soul Studio in a random spare room in Igiugig, Alaska. This is where dreams come true, and where Travis tries not to scream and throw hard drives at the wall. Photo by Ben

Back to the hard drive: Literally seconds after I said “Jesus dude, it looks like a fucking disco over there,” [referring to all the flashing lights on 3 different hard drives Travis had transferring video at the same time] we proceeded to stroke our egos re: how few film makers would have the balls to take on the challenge of going completely digital dependent in places this remote. Cue the karma: Alarms go off, the drive goes down, both of us go pale, and the emergency problem-solving begins. No joke.

Brian Kraft of the Alaskan Sportsman’s Lodge. www.alaskasportsmanslodge.com Photo by Ben Knight

Cue our savior, the solver of all problems, the CEO of gettin’ er done. The one and only, Brian Kraft. Ex hockey pro, owner of the world renowned Alaska Sportman’s Lodge, fishing guide, hunting guide, bush pilot, carpenter and anti Pebble Mine advocate. When you’re making a film in the middle of nowhere Alaska it really helps to have an ally with 8 skiffs, a jet boat and 3 bush planes at his disposal. It also doesn’t hurt to have a fisherman who can pretty much tell a sockeye when and where to eat his fly for the camera. Did I mention he has a chef who encrusts halibut with crab and smoked salmon? Long, tedious story short, Brian is now figuring out a way to get [two] terabyte hard drives from the Apple store in Anchorage into our hands by Friday. Two days from now. As far as we can tell no precious footage has been lost. But, the biting mental anguish of possibly loosing something we’ve filmed because no one can seem to make a decent hard drive makes me want to unzip my tent and put a hurtin’ on the first bear I can find. But, I’ll probably just suck it up, pout for a while and make really bitchy comments to Travis.

Igiugig village elder Mary Olympic holds her new grandson at her home after a long day of splitting fish. Photo by Ben Knight

TECH UPDATE Our new hard drives arrived today in the Athabascan village of Nondalton. To our absolute bewilderment, one doesn’t work… brand new-out of the box. I’d like to send out a sincere FUCK YOU to the quality control staff at Wiebe Tech and Rocstor. Our problem solving continues.

Ingredients for an organic, free range documentary

Infamous Nushagak Point set-netter Dylan Braund says bye to his incredible wife Sarah and their son Finn before joining his crew for 14 hours of sockeye genocide. Photo by Ben Knight

Quote of the day: “Sad is when a man is asked to tell a story, and has no story to tell.” —Sarah Braund of Nushagak Point, Alaska

Beware: this is a little on the sensitive side. Just deal with it ok?

Ever have those moments when you meet someone, and the glow in their eyes and the truth in what they say simply remind you what your priorities in life should be? I long for those moments when you’re left speechless, but everything [all of a sudden] just seems so clear. Seeing a new grandfather holding his grandson at his fish camp with tears rolling over his cheeks and speaking of his dream come true. Meeting a young man so passionate about the sockeye run that he spends his winters welding every seam of his boats by hand and uses the money from fishing to pay for law school so he can fight for this place in hopes that the salmon will return for his son. Here’s to Ole, Dylan and Sarah of Nushagak Point, three people I will always look up to and never forget. Thank you for trusting us.

Matt A.K.A “Eye-black” came to Nushagak point for one thing, and one thing only: POUNDAGE! 20,000 pounds of sockeye in one night to be exact. Matt brought his girlfriend Tiffany, who may very well be the faster fish picker of the two and seemed to get more beautiful the dirtier she got. Photo by Ben Knight

Dylan Braund. As bad-ass as a fisherman can possibly be. Period. He is so bad-ass his nick name is “Captain Insano.” If being awesome was a crime, my boy would be on the most wanted list. When he’s not ripping his custom speed-picking skiff around like a bat out of hell for 36 hours straight and tossing hundred-pound anchors like horseshoes he’s taking a 5 minute nap in what they call “the coffin.” A coffin sized aluminum box with a hinged lid on the stern of his barge made for the brief speed nap only. His wife Sarah, the she-banshee of sockeye slaying, says all of his fingernails fall off by the end of the 3-week season. Why you may ask? In order to remove thousands upon thousands of fish per day from your net, they must be “picked.” This requires lightning-fast problem solving skills and super strong hands to de-tangle the sockeye’s gills from the matrix-like mesh and chuck the 10-pound fish without looking into a bag thus spraying a stream of salmon blood onto my lens. Techno is his beat of choice when the heat is on, and the music thumps from his I-Pod as his crew steps up the pace. You could go on and on about how brilliant and talented this cat is, but at the end of the day he’s a mellow, articulate dude who wants nothing more than to ride the tide home to his wife Sarah and his new son Finn. Dylan’s vision and dedication will undoubtedly revolutionize set-netting for his son’s generation.

Keith, everybody’s favorite british geologist broke it down to us plain and simple in Northern Dynasty’s “core room.” This is officially a copper mine were dealing with folks… fuck the gold, we’re here for the copper. You just can’t beat a british accent… we couldn’t have casted a better geologist. Photo by Ben Knight

Not all fisherman fit the bill, but Sam… I’d have to say Sam looks the part. Sam captains the “Lowboy” tender while his wife bakes chocolate chip cookies in the galley. Everybody digs Sam, he’s always got a big grin waiting for you. Photo by Ben Knight

With Travis sucking on a bottle of 10-year old scotch, Lauren passed out in the “coffin” and I drooling on my collar, we all settled down for a long winters nap. The alien looking things behind me are Dylan’s home-made ultra visible flashing buoys that alert other boats that his nets are out when it gets “almost dark” around 2AM. Photo by Travis Rummel

Quote of the day: “You may be a redneck if you have to remove buckshot from your trout before you eat it.” —Ole’s friend Bill re: the time Ole was out hunting birds in Montana and came back to the cabin with two brown trout instead.

Ole is the unofficial Mayor of Nushagak Point and one of the most respected fishermen on the Nushagak river. Even with a recently broken back and two artificial hips, you’ll rarely notice that anything fazes this spitting image of John Wayne. [But, I think I may have captured one of those moments] This photo was taken after 36 hours of constant fishing with only 5 hours of sleep. Ole even does the cooking for his crew and took time to feed Travis and I as well. Ole, fuck Mayor, you will always be the King in my book. Photo by Ben Knight

Worth noting:

Number of visits to the Felt Soul blog thus far: 7,500. [If that ain't something to write home about, I don't know what is]

Ok, here’s the deal: We’re headed off the grid for the remaining days of July. We’ll rarely have internet and we’ll be downloading footage in the field thanks to solar panels generously donated by Brunton. Don’t expect a blog update for a little while, but please check back in, because this junk show ain’t over yet.

Travis and I often wonder how we could possibly pay all the favors back to the people who have helped along the way. I like Travis’s idea best: “I think the best way we can re-pay the favor is to make a great film.”

Happy Birthday Mom, I love you. —Ben

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I thought I could jump on the bottom of Ben’s post here…

In attempting to embed ourselves with the commercial fishing community of Dillingham we have successfully
Slept in a 40 foot container in the boat yard, the back of a leaky (for ben) Ford f250 on a rainy night, camped on the beach of Nushagak Point, enjoyed 2 nights in a hotel and spent over 15 hours on a single tender (a large fish transport barge) while traveling 3 nautical miles. Now the latest chapter – 3 people + gear camped out in a white Chevrolet Astro Van in the Peter Pan Cannery Parking lot. We are living the dream.

This last chapter is on the verge of breaking the team apart. The lack of sleep from pretending to live the commercial fishing life in the near climax of the sockeye push has worn us down; now go to sleep in the mini van and make a film, bitch.

In attempting the commercial fisherman’s experience in Bristol Bay, embedding ourselves and asking the fishermen to go on and pretend we aren’t there – keep fishing and forget about us - It seems that fishing, at least in Bristol Bay, is more about getting fathers and sons, hell in a lot of cases, the whole family together and killing a shit load of fish.

It has been a blood bath the last couple of days for us in the midst of what looks to be the peak of the sockeye push into the tidal waters of the Nushagak and Wood Rivers. I don’t want to sound like some kind of catch and release pussy, but seeing thousands and thousands of sockeye harvested day after day has taken a psychological toll. The utter amount of fish, net after net, is tremendous and almost unexplainable. The sheer magnitude is hard to comprehend and the fish keep coming.

About 5.3 million fish have been harvested through the combined efforts of over 650 drift net fisher men, the ones in the oversized 32 foot fishing boats, and the set netters or mud fisherman as they can prefer to be called. We were fortunate enough to spend time with some unique characters from both groups capturing moments that will make for an amazing sequence in the film.

A special thank you to Kai and Croc of the Heidi Ann, Peter Andrew of The Lucky Bear, Lindsey Bloom of the Erica Leigh, Ole Olson + crew, Dylan, Sarah, and Fin + crew of Nushagak Point for trusting us and letting us into your lives.

—Travis Rummel

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Another blog jumper…

Late night aboard the Island Beauty, traveling to the South Line in Wild Salmon Water World. Photo by Lauren Oakes

I am pretty darn sure I am the first Trout Unlimited employee to use our name as a call sign over VHF amidst the peak of the world’s largest remaining sockeye salmon commercial fishery. Seemed like every fishermen out there was willing to help out one way or another, however, knowing we’re trying to protect the resource. The more time we spend out here, the more we see commercial, sport, subsistence truly coming together.

The team finally earned real credibility for our dedication to the project when we finally made it back to Peter Pan after our 6 days fake or fo fishing, foshing I guess. “You’re starting to look a little haggard,” mentioned Jeff in the main office. Little did he know I spent the night before trying to catch and hour of sleep in the coffin, a remarkably warm yet somewhat scaly stainless steel box aboard Dylan’s boat. And wished I had spent the 20 bucks for the deckhand license to get out there and pick, instead of standing knee deep in 10,000 pounds of sockeye, only as witness. Splattered in sockeye blood, plastered with silver scales, I thought, “Somehow I don’t think this is what our Redington / Sage sponsors imagined when they sent us new waders.”

Apparently Ben gets motion sickness. Thanks to the folks who make Bonine this is not a projectile moment, rather one for pondering the next shot… Photo by Lauren Oakes

A few highlights from the past week– Sunset at Nushagak point, perhaps the most magical place and community I have experienced yet. Fourth of July with Sarah, Ole, and little Finn, baking cookies for the fisherman and listening to stories. Tears welling up from everyone in the barge cabin, as we can only begin to understand what it means to pass this way of life on to yet another generation. Ole, wishing us farewell, “Tell the truth, and it will set your free.” “Hopefully it will keep the fish running free…” we holler back, now knee deep in the legendary mud off the point. Dylan, Bill, Brady, Nick “the Machine”, Tiff, Matt, all of you — we will never forget our time with you. Dylan and Sarah and little Finn, you are truly an inspiration.

Thank you to all the tenders and boats and wonderful hard working people who helped us along the way. Minus the 15 hours Travis spent standing on a tender wondering about a ride one way or another, I would say it couldn’t have gone better. We are seeing and experiencing so much, it’s a challenge to take it all in. With clean lenses, gear trimmed down to bare minimal (still some 300 lbs total), recharged camera batteries and somewhat recharged personal batteries, we head to Igiugig to begin the chapter of understanding a subsistence way of life along the shores of Lake Iliamna…

—Lauren Oakes

Man cramps

A milk jug of beer, 4 fly rods, a jet boat and two blisteringly hot men… grab a napkin ladies. Ryan Peterson of The Fly Shop and Travis hit a late night skunk-fest on the mighty Naknek. Photo by Ben Knight

I strongly dislike jogging, but my fatness required something more aerobic than focusing a camera today, so I, Ben Knight, went jogging. Don’t tell my mountain bike that I have cheated. My love is for her many readily available gears, her beautifully curved top-tube, her gigantic 8-inch front rotor, her silky smooth bearings, her ball numbing seat and her sexy six point six inches of rear wheel travel. Tell her I said “it’s not you… it’s me.” Let her know how I regret not lovingly lubricating her chain before leaving her in the dark basement for the duration of the summer. Tell her I said that jogging is slow, abrasive and borderline pointless, for on her I could ride like the wind and leave the mosquitos behind. To jog in Anchorage is to run in most other places because you are on the edge of certain death at any moment. What may begin as a moderate pace soon turns to a heart pounding sprint as thoughts of wild animals behind every tree take over. You’ve heard about the Anchorage University professor who was trampled to death by a deranged moose. You’ve seen the Grizzly bear killing and burying a moose in someone’s back yard in Anchorage on U-Tube. You’ve heard what happened to Little Red Riding Hood. This is reality we’re talking about here people… An Alaskan jog is like covering your naked body in perfectly cooked bacon and running through a truck stop. You may think this sounds like a “trip of a lifetime.” WELL IT’S NOT. I’m just trying to get out of here un-mauled and make a little documentary.

Quote of the day: “Just do me a favor and don’t let Lauren blow it all on lap dances and smack.” —Ryan Peterson of The Fly Shop www.theflyshop.com [referring to the money Ryan raised to help fund our Bristol Bay project]

Aggressive typer Lauren Oakes contemplates the severe beating she will give to her laptop keyboard when she returns from fishing. Photo by Ben Knight

My hands cramp when I get motion sickness. One time the cramps spread all the way to my shoulders on a small plane. I remember holding a National Geographic in my left hand and without meaning to, the cramp had folded the magazine over. I had to pry the magazine against my leg until it fell on the floor. My thumbs cross over to my pinky fingers and I usually have to lay in the terminal for a while if I’m not late for a connection. The tingling sensation when my extremities come back to life is quite irritating. Dramamine is nice if you like drooling on yourself, but I prefer Bonine… It kept the cramps at bay today. The pilot of our small plane from Anchorage to Illiamna decided he’d take the scenic route over Clark Pass. I closed my eyes most of the time because it helps me stay calm and not spray vomit on the other passengers. At moments it felt like I was strapped to an uncomfortable chair and bouncing on a trampoline. Occasionally I’d take a deep breath and open my eyes when Travis would give me a “your missing all the scenery dumb ass” sort-of nudge. The moment my eyelids parted for the first time in 15 minutes I was floored. We were flying low, just a thousand feet or so above tree line through a glacial valley with jagged dark, foggy ridge lines on both sides. Below was lush green tundra with braided glacial melt streams weaving their way to Lake Clark. Stunning I thought… Then my bowels lurched into my esophagus as the plane dropped 100 feet in elevation thanks to a patch of air created by Lucifer. I’m sure the rest of the flight was nice too, but I was trying to control my breathing with my eyes closed.

Paint peels on an old wooden hull in Dillingham. Photo by Ben Knight

Note: Huge thanks to pilot Rob and his awesome mustache at the Rainbow King Lodge for letting us duct-tape our camera to the wing of his Super Cub. If only he could have dodged the bug that hit the lens 3 minutes after takeoff. With a little practice, young Jedi Rob will surely see the bug and have time to react, thus avoiding the god-forsaken winged carcass plastered to 37 minutes of footage.

As you may already know, we were treated to a helicopter tour of the proposed Pebble Mine site near the remote town of Illimna. By the time our comprehensive safety briefing was over I was well aware of the dangers of sniffing glue, which end of the scissors are sharp and what not to lob into the blades of a helicopter. That left us with about 8 minutes to fly, take a whirlwind ground tour of the core-drilling rigs and interview the VP of public relations. I’m sure that would be adequate for print media, but for us… not so much. I think we did the best we could. I would like to thank Northern Dynasty for their hospitality, particularly for the buffet and the spectacular self-serve snack shelf. I felt like a little boy stealing candy bars in a dream world where it didn’t matter how big the bulge in your pocket was. The day we were slated to leave Northern Dynasty’s Director of public relations came up to us and abrasively said “you’re still here.” I’m sure she meant well, but a simple “hi, how are you” would have made me feel a tad more comfortable. I’m happy they invited us to visit because one-sided documentaries tend to suck, and Travis and I didn’t come all this way to suck.

Headed Back to the Bush

The salmon commeth, and the drift-net boats waiteth | Photo by Travis Rummel [thanks for the lift Norm]

Dear Readers,

We have been eddied out in Anchorage for the past couple of days coming up with a game plan and enjoying the fruits of civilization, mainly the use of our cell phones and wireless Internet. With no home to return to in Dillingham (besides the red Ford F350 with a leaking cab) we decided to chill out, reflect on where we have been and where we are going. The project continues to growth in depth with each interview we get and in every new location we bust the camera out. It is going to be good and we have been spending a lot of time working the pro development side of things.

We are keeping our own politics out of the thread of the film and trying to have the pebble story tell itself. The Pro side has been difficult to get in with as most of our interviewees are very skeptical about our motives, which I don’t blame them for given our sponsors and interests.

We have managed to get a couple good interviews that bring light to the dark side and the more time you spend with the pro folks the more you realize these people really believe what they are telling you or they are getting paid really well or both. The passion just seems to be lacking, but maybe it is back to the money thing again.

Regardless we are doing our best to approach this holistically and keep it as neutral as possible. There seems to be strength in neutrality – just think of us as the Switzerland of documentary films. The story will tell itself, just wait and see…

Ground Zero and Back

Caribou at the Pebble “Exploration” Site | photo of a photo by Ben Knight

Dear Reader,

Northern Dynasty has been kind to us, flying us from Anchorage to the “exploration site” in Iliamna, putting us up in a lake front condo, feeding us for the duration and taking us on a helicopter tour of the site in the pouring rain. They even allowed ben all the candy bars he could stomach – and that is saying a lot.

The deluge of rain didn’t make for the best shooting conditions while in the midst of our heli tour, but it was interesting plop down on the tundra and stand on top of what ndm’s geologists claim to be the largest porphyry gold/copper discovery ever in the history of digging up minerals from the subsurface of earth. They were a bit superstitious though and wouldn’t actually come out and say it was going to be the “biggest one,” but from the gleam in their eyes you knew it was getting pretty damn close.

We had always thought of the Pebble Mine as a gold mine, but it turns out it is now a copper mine that happens to also have billions of dollars in gold in it as a lucky byproduct. Pretty sweet huh? In our interviews with the NDM Public Relations folks and their site geologist manager the word gold was never once uttered. The focus was on the copper and the world’s insatiable hunger for it, oh and the national security benefit that a Canadian mining company could bring to the US once the mine goes through and billions of tons of copper, gold and molybdenum are extracted to sell in the global commodity markets. They did mention the fish though and promised the two could peacefully co-exist with “no-net loss,” which despite having this point clarified; is still a bit confusing to me.

We have had an extremely hard time tracking down folks who are avid supporters of the mine here in Iliamna, despite our greatest efforts and the town being “pro-mine.” It is not so much a town but a road with a few houses on it with an airport alive with the thunder of constant helicopter traffic over-head. Everything on the exploration site is delivered by helicopter; this means all 7 drill rigs (which penetrate down to 5000 feet), tons of environmental scientists doing private data collection studies, camp supplies, tents, trash, tundra pads (to put the drill rigs on), are flown in and out via helis. It is crazy, but the tundra is looked after and there are no roads on the site. It is all very orderly and well managed.

All the folks that we spoke with that are pro mine seem to have a far away look in their eyes or are talking about payday, whether it is their actual paycheck or the development of the mine site. They seem to lack the lust for life that other communities we have spent time in relish in. There seems to be a lack of soul, like they have sold out and can’t remember what it is like to be awed by their surroundings or nourished by their community. Some described it as only being about money and how can I get more than my neighbor.

The only passion we were able to evoke in our interviews was from the several geologists we spoke with who were blown away by the hugeness of the discovery and with their connection to what could be the biggest discovery of its kind - ever. All the geologists travel the international copper/gold mining circuit, helping mine the Tibetan Plateau, the highlands of Papua New Guinea, South Africa, and the Frasier River Valley of BC – you know all the shitty places out there with populations that lack political clout, I mean ahhh.

And now the headwaters of the Nushagak and Upper Talarik creek a mere 19 river miles from Alaska’s only great lake – Lake Iliamna. The geologists don’t seem to ponder the idea of the greater ecosystem or social impacts, only the grade of the ore and the economics necessary to make extraction a reality. It is all very theoretical to them or classified as not “their department.”

We were fortunate enough to find a local pilot to fly us around the site in his super cub – what an amazing experience. We followed Upper Talarik Creek to the mine site, did a bit more investigation of the drill rigs, and then descended down the South Fork of the Koktuli and in the process spotted a grizzly bear midstream and soon after a herd of over 600 caribou. The landscape is alive with life and with water. The hydrology is mind numbing. In every direction there are creeks, rivers, ponds and upwelling springs. The tundra is a like a giant sponge with an invisible lake below the surface. It will be challenging to contain tailings and not pollute the groundwater or surface water in perpetuity if a mine were to go through, but wait there will not be any “net loss” so I guess there is nothing to worry about. We can just wait and see.

Many of the locals in the area truly believe in the regulatory process and feel that there are just too many rivers and salmon for the mine to come in and fuck up. Again and again we hear from them that they need the jobs and they are thinking about it in terms of economic opportunity for their kids, right after they get done telling us the importance of salmon as the critical part of their cultural identity or complain about the cost of basketball sneakers in Anchorage. This will be a modern mine they say, just look at the Fraiser River in BC, 9 mines lining the river, clear cuts and a cement factory in town, but still the salmon come back…Wait and see they say. Wait and see. The regulatory process will work. We need the mine and we need the salmon. Wait and see…

Ben is left eye dominant just so you know | Photo by Travis Rummel 

From Dilly to Illi

Walking the plank at drill site #4 | Photo by Lauren Oakes

I could see Ben and Travis were falling apart with me back in Juneau. I mean, really guys, I take off for a few, and you just stop working?! What is this, vacation? No worries, that mystery TU girl (please, I would really one day prefer “Producer”) is back to make sure bush pilots still open their doors to us and all the gear, Ben gets his steady flow of sugar, and the saga of telling the Bristol Bay story from so many perspectives continues. The car rental place in Dillingham already knows us as the team that sleeps in the rentals as well so we’re all set up with for our return, a van this time with the seats even removed. Oh joy. Have we mentioned that we could use some more sponsors? Thanks to Northern Dynasty (yes, I am truly and honestly 100% thanking Northern Dynasty) for the hospitality… the most beautiful flight of my life flying from Anchorage to Iliamna through the astounding Lake Clark pass (so narrow, so striking, rich and mountainous, glaciers extending far, deep, illuminating the world blue), a day at the “Project Site” (Correction, Mine site) and a lovely lakeside place to eat and sleep.

Iliamna is still deep with me, so intense for so many reasons. It hit me hard to be there, constantly intellectually questioning, listening to many stories and different perspectives, wondering what we can do when I see so much in motion at Pebble, a tremendous project already — well managed, well staffed, growing every day. I found myself thinking of how many people in the world dream of visiting Lake Iliamna, how many people perhaps save for years for a trip to these waters — and the irony that the company that provided me my opportunity is the very one threatening it. For a moment I wished I could just look at that lake and not wonder about its future, and I guess I was envious of all those who have that experience, who don’t know about the track record of mining and that one is moving right along right there in the heart of this magical place.

I’ll censor myself a bit on this chapter and let Ben and Travis unveil the reality in time. Besides I know Ben gets the laughs. I will say, however, that I think Peter Pan Seafoods mess hall (Yum, Wild Bristol Bay Salmon) has the Northern Dynasty mess hall WAY beat (although Ben really appreciated the unlimited amount of packaged candies and processed snacks). And I also think that if the “Project Site” is really just a “science research center” right now, we (TU, The Department of Fish and Game, heck the public) should all get to see that information, not later but now. I’ll also say that most interviews in Iliamna I witnessed felt like canned promotion dictated by very very careful phrasing, not the free-speaking, from the heart core values and lifestyles unveiled by so many others interviewed along the way thus far. I wish we could capture so much of what is said off camera, even by locals employed by the mining company, clearly questioning what is already changing.

I am grateful to the passionate geologists in the core room (where they box up core samples to be analyzed for mineral content) for clarifying this is a gold mine too. NDM now speaks of it as a copper mine, with a gold bi-product. I presume that way they can try really hard to quiet the public debate about gold watches vs. salmon forever and instead talk about strategic metals and the growing technology demand vs. salmon forever. Neither one sounds much better to me.

Thanks to Tom at Rainbow King Lodge for helping us coordinate some flying time. And for opposing the mine next door. He wittingly notes it’s either run a premier fishing lodge on the shores of Lake Iliamna or start up the Iliamna Bush Company to entertain the mine workers, hard choice. Ben and Travis mounted the camera to a super cub with duct tape and we set it free. Ben watched in terror as the plane returned an hour later “can you see the camera? Is it still there? I’m not sure if they put it on my insurance before I left…” Travis came back with gorgeous footage of the Mulchatna caribou herd, hundreds and hundreds of caribou, migrating at the headwaters of the Koktuli across the “Project Site.” This and the 300 sockeye salmon we will help gut, clean, smoke, dry and can, for just one family next week on the Kvichak reminds me what we are fighting for here in the last great salmon fishery.

I am listening to your story, NDM, but I’m sorry, I cannot just wait and see. The history of mining pollution speaks too loud, and the loss here is too great. I walked around a drilling site, acknowledging its careful construction and protocols for minimal impact. But ultimately in black and white, in tattered archived photographs and yellowing newspapers, I still see the results of all the other mines that have said “this one will be different.”

Tommorrow we head back to Dillingham. The fish are in and there’s work to be done. Off to visit the Alaska Miner’s Association today, Ben says, “Do we look like we’re ready to go film some shit?” Yes, Ben, always. If anyone at NDM would ever like a tour of Trout Unlimited, we would be happy to host you and cook up some of Lindsey’s Bristol Bay Salmon. Please come visit anytime.

feltsoul gets some love | thisisfly.com goes live

http://www.thisisfly.com/?l=169 p.43

We have to take a quick hiatus from AK life to give some props to thisisfly.com

Ben and I got a random email a while back from some dude named Tim Miller in NYC asking about an interview for his new “webzine.” We usually don’t pass up opportunities for shameless self promotion so we followed up. We exchanged some emails and phone calls and sent in some photos. A few weeks later we recieved the following link to check out… www.thisisfly.com. Check out page 43 - Holy shit, Tim and his crew know how to make fly fishing cool. We were honored. Thanks for the love and for running our sometimes incoherent responses in their entirety. Keep it coming - please.

EVIL SHOWER OF DEATH

Yup’ik Eskimo, Peter Andrew | Photo by Ben Knight

Disclaimer: Ben Knight’s opinions and comments expressed in this forum in no way reflect the wholesome, politically correct, fun-for-the-whole-family and completely A-political stance that Felt Soul Media proudly represents. Just ignore him.

First of all, I walked a quarter mile in the rain to take this shower. A shower is especially important when you’re living at Gypsy Corner in the boat yard inside a forty-foot steel storage container. We sleep at the back of the container away from the tools where the mold-shrooms grow. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful to have a place to sleep. [Many thanks to Croc, Kai and Tyone for taking us off the mean streets of Dillingham. You guys are one of a kind] Back to the shower. There’s no denying the power of a good shower head and the perfect water temperature. You know, the feeling of putting your head down and letting it just rain on the back of your neck as you go cross-eyed with pleasure. Imagine being several minutes into your steamy bliss. Clunk. Within a split second molten lava in the form of an innocent shower is searing off both nipples and I’m lunging out of the fallout zone almost pulling the shower curtain down with me. It gets so hot that a plume of steam erupts from the shower like a volcano. Repeat this retarded process every 30 seconds until clean and shield the man parts. Welcome to shower time at the Peter Pan Canary. I’ll put up with the evil shower of death because the buffet is a super yummy. The chicken fingers today… holy shit.

“Croc,” a.k.a. Chuck beside his self portrait on his hull in Gypsy Corner. Croc is the Captain Cook/Einstein/Shackelton of the 21st century. We’ll get into that later | Photo by Ben Knight

T-dog and I rented a jacked-up diesel Ford truck for a couple days with a camper shell and enough leaf springs to haul a bull dozer. This will be our home now. The rental car lady said we could have the beast or a tiny compact car… the choice seemed obvious. It even came with pre caked-on Alaska dirt and a siren, you know, just incase we need a fucking siren I guess? Not sure how to turn it on, but it makes us look even more important than we already are. No, it’s not bio diesel for all you soy sucking hippies who were wondering. I’ve seen no sign of bio diesel in Alaska. It’s not like we’re here to save natural resources or one of the last 3 sustainable fisheries or anything.

Today was officially Felt Soul kick-it with the natives day. [was that not PC? Sorry.] We met Peter Andrew who is a full blood Yup’ik Eskimo who took us in for dinner and gave us an interview that brought tears to our eyes. He and his lovely wife Rose had slayed king salmon all morning with their subsistence net and were smoking the strips of glowing orange flesh with cottonwood. Inside the house we stuffed our faces with fresh baked bread, pickled king salmon, smoked king salmon and salmon chowder. I thought I had tried pickled everything, now I’m sure I have. Oh wait, pickled pigs feet I have not tried. Add pickled king salmon to my list of favorite pink things. I left Peter’s house saturated in kindness. I know people are partly welcoming us because they support what we’re doing, but I honestly feel that Alaskans may very well be a different breed. Most people just appear to be very focused, relaxed and comfortable with themselves and their way of life. I can’t help but wonder if the folks who support the mine will be more skeptical of our agenda.

Kai (L), Croc’s son cooks it up outside our humble storage container home. Kai is the resident Gypsy Corner DJ, nicest guy ever and quite the talented photographer. Photo by Ben Knight

Random awesome stats:

*Total film shot so far: 200 gigs [approx. 500 minutes]
*Days left: 55
*Number of nipple burns: 2
*Salmon consumed by Ben: 23.4 pounds
*Fish caught by Travis: 30
*Fish caught by Ben: 8
*Ben’s fishing problem as explained by Travis: “Dude, just fish with confidence… every cast, just expect a fish to eat.”
*Ben’s fishing problem as explained by Ben: Nymphing is for tourists.
*Price for a 12-pack of PBR: $13
*Red Bull: $3.50
*Plastic handle of Black Velvet whiskey: $50
*Sockeye salmon fresh from the net per pound in 2007: 65 cents
*Sockeye salmon per pound in 1989: $2.50
*Sockeye salmon at Whole Foods: $19.99
*Fishermen are getting: fucked