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Geologic field trip by boat: Good food, good stories, bad weather and bad geology highlight Phillips 1956 expedition Geologist Hank Ornelas‚ shares his journal, letters and telegrams from a three month geological expedition in the Shumagin Island area of the Aleutians aboard the Eudora, a 104-foot air-sea rescue boat that had been converted to a yacht Jen Ransom PNA Staff Writer
Following are excerpts from the story of Phillips Petroleum geologist Hank Ornelas’ three-month excursion to Alaska in 1956, told in the form of letters and telegrams to his wife and children, Joyce, Pam and Rolf, and journal entries.
Ornelas was selected to be the Phillips representative on the boat, the Eudora, which traveled from Seattle up the Inside Passage to Seward, Alaska, where the rest of the geological field party members would board.
The boat then traveled westward to the Aleutians as the geologic exploration party conducted research along the way. Letter Ketchikan, Alaska June 1, 1956 Well, we’re still in Ketchikan. We’ve been here for two days. The engine (one of two) had to get worked on. We’ll set sail this afternoon. I’ve had two days to eat, sleep, fish and rubberneck around town. I’ve done OK fishing. This morning I caught six fish right off the boat. I got four rock cod and two ocean perch.
The biggest one was a cod about 18 inches long. We’ve saved the fish to use as bait (yes bait! In Colorado an 18 inch fish is a near trophy. Out here it is used for bait). We’ll put these fish in a crab trap and try to take a few crabs to eat. …
We’re the talk of the town here, what with our 104-foot yacht and all. Send some photos of the kids when you get some. Also send everything air mail. (Note: the airline company, Reeves Aleutian Airlines, was always so late with the mail that the group renamed it Reeves Disillusion Airlines).
I guess that I had better tell you something about the Eudora, the ship I will be calling home for the next three months or so. It is a 104-foot air-sea rescue boat that has been converted to a yacht. In its naval configuration it was a real terror in its days. It sported twin 500 horsepower gasoline engines that enabled it to plane at 50 mph. It was something like a PT boat. Although she was armed in wartime, it was only light armament as her specific duties were to get out to pick up a downed pilot as fast as possible. She served under combat conditions in the Pacific Theatre and participated in numerous rescue operations involving pilots and naval combat survivors. She came through without a scratch — well, maybe a few scratches, but no significant damage. Ed Hiney purchased her right after the Second World War and remodeled her.
The first thing he did was to remove the gasoline engines and replace them with diesels. Then he named her in honor of his grandmother, Eudora. Finally he worked over the interior, built in several staterooms, a head and a large saloon in the aft section, a galley and crew quarters in the fore section. Above deck are the wheelhouse and a wide-open deck. The ship lies low in the water giving it a rather sleek, racy look.
I love and miss you all, Daddy. Journal Entry Chignik, Alaska June 11, 1956 Arrived in Chignik (Anchorage Harbor) at about 8:30 am. Still quite foggy. Docked at the Alaska Canning Co. dock. It is raining and very cold. Quite comfortable aboard, however, although there are a few leaks and it is a little cold. I pity the Shell Oil boys across the bay. They’re living in leaky tents. No shower, no music, no nice clean bunks. But they do get to go back to the states and visit their families once every six weeks. They also get a bonus of a month’s salary at the end of their tour of duty.
Don Shnur (helicopter mechanic) came aboard and will sail with us to Albatross Harbor, which will be our first anchorage for commencing our fieldwork. We will be there several weeks. Letter Albatross Anchorage June 16, 1956 Well we’ve finally reached our destination. We arrived here Thursday night. We’re anchored at Albatross Anchorage, which lies north of Unga Island at a north arm of Balboa Bay.
This bay is somewhat shallow (for the Eudora, that is) and we’re anchored near the middle. We have two 16-foot skiffs with outboards that we use to run back and forth from our ship to the land base where the ‘copter is parked. It is a distance of about one and one half miles.
Yesterday (our first day here) we got organized in the morning and went out in the field in the afternoon to look over the area. We got the ‘copter to haul us to a point almost half way across the peninsula (about four miles from the south beach) and we hiked back down the canyon and took a few strike and dips.
The professor from Stanford (Konrad Krouskopf) that the company hired for the summer is arriving today, if his plane doesn’t get grounded somewhere.
Oh, yes! I am growing a beard. I haven’t shaved for 11 days. It’s quite a hairy mess. Shall I let it grow and save it ‘til I get back to give you a real hairy kiss? All the rest of the guys are chicken, except for Phil Martin. He’s got about nine days growth.
I guess I will list the names and brief history of the guys on the boat. I’ll start with Capt. John Devers. He’s about 65, born in Denver and has been a sailor for 45 years. He knows these waters like we know our own living room. We call him Capt. Cap. Then there is Ed Hiney. He owns the boat (worth about $60,000). He’s signed on as an engineer. He can fix anything from radios to diesel engines to juke boxes. He’s a little of a worry wart — worries about something serious going wrong with the boat. However, I like him real well and I’m probably his best friend aboard.
He and Cap don’t get along very well. It’s understandable since he owns the boat but is not in command. The deck hand is named Dick Lowe. He’s 14 and knows everything about boats. A real nice kid, he’s real sharp and likeable. But on this trip they should have had a man for the job because it is a man’s job.
The cook is Johnny Chrome. And believe me, he’s a cook par excellence! He’s about 32, very jovial, a good storyteller, and he’s been on ships of various sorts for years. He’ll do anything for us and caters to our qualms about this and that concerning food and snacks. The mess boy is Emory Goodman. He’s about 20. Went to U. of Wash a couple semesters. Kinda quiet but very cooperative. He makes our bunks, and sets the tables and brings in our food.
Of the geologists there is Ott (Ott Cross, from Canada and in charge of the operation), myself and three others. Phil Martin is about my age. He went to U. of Michigan, is married, no children. Jim Muhm is my age or a little older. Married and has a sense of humor. Hank Herlyn has been with us since we left Seward. He’s from the Anchorage office. He’ll leave shortly after the Prof arrives.
The pilot is Frank Garvin. He’s the “dashing” type. Has a small mustache, good-looking guy with black hair. He just came back from Egypt. The mechanic, Don Shnur, is a quiet guy. Doesn’t say much, but I like him. Oh yes, now I remember who Frank reminds me of — Smilin’ Jack. Remember the comic strip? Journal Entry June 19, 1956 Did quite a bit of hiking today. Beautiful day. Saw some good geology. While waiting on the beach we built a fire and shot at the seals that kept popping out of the water to see the creatures on the beach. Never did hit one but sure scared the “L” out of several.Journal Entry June 22, 1956 Worked in the field.
The other day, over dinner, I asked Konnie Krouskofpf what he did at Stanford University. He set his fork down, finished chewing his food, looked me in the eye and said, slowly and precisely, “ I am a geochemist and I teach geochemistry.” So. Journal Entry June 23, 1956 Worked in the field.
The Alaska brown bear, this critter is a monster. The big ones, they say, can tip the scales at over 1200 pounds and stand 10 feet high when on their hind legs.
I know for a fact they are fearless. One day we buzzed a sow with a couple of cubs. She didn’t run when we came down to hover over her, but her cubs got scared and took off.
She finally also ran, not in fear, but to get her kiddies. As we followed, she finally became exasperated, stopped, stood on her hind legs and challenged us to a fight. She held her ground. She didn’t give in. So in awe and admiration for the animal, we left and didn’t bother a mother with cubs again.
As protection against the brownies when we are on the ground, each party member was issued a high-powered rifle. It is a Remington model 760, pump action 30-06. This rifle weighs about eight pounds, and although we carried them at first, we soon found them to be a burden when climbing those steep mountains when we were already weighted down by knapsack, food, rock supplies, walkie-talkie, hammer, raingear and wearing rubber hip boots. So we were soon leaving them on the boat and trusting the Good Lord or a police whistle to protect us. There hasn’t yet been a dangerous encounter and we don’t intend on provoking one. Letter Eudora July 9, 1956 If the weather holds we should finish up this area in another week. Then we’ll move to Chignik. Tentatively, we’re scheduled to move to Chignik on the 20th. Personally, I feel we can get out of here before then. Considering the time we’ve already worked we’ve come up with quite a bit of info — all bad. I personally have already condemned most of this area. There’s only one small commercial possibility and that will probably go out after further work in the area. I hope I don’t sound too egotistical — I’m just stating the facts, ma’am.Telegram Sand Point, Alaska July 17, 1956 JOYCE ORNELAS 641 NORTH 19 GRAND JUNCTION COLO DO NOT SEND BOOTS. HANKJournal Entry July 24, 1956 Arrived in Chignik 4:10 pm.Journal Entry July 26, 1956 Konnie got a few extra gray hairs today. He, Phil Martin and I were on a high, steep peak looking over some volcanic rocks. Konnie went off in one direction to take a sample of a certain outcrop, and Phil and I went to other outcrops for samples. Ten minutes later Phil and I convened and sat down to wait for Konnie. In about ten minutes he showed up. He was all dirty, white as a sheet and trembling terribly. We jumped up and asked him if he was hurt. He shook his head no, and asked Phil for a cigarette. This was very unusual, as Konnie is very much against smoking.
When he calmed down enough to talk, he explained the experience he had just had. On his way to the target outcrop he encountered a wide, very steep talus slope. The talus was composed of loose shale fragments and must have been at the maximum angle of repose, as the slope was very, very steep, yet the talus was stationary.
He decided not to try to walk over it (we all knew about steep, loose talus slopes) instead he climbed over the top of the slope. While picking his way around the slope he lost his footing and slid down onto the talus. The entire talus body began to move. He was on his back, enveloped in a cloud of dust, trying to get himself turned around so he could try to grab at something. As he and the talus picked up speed he tried desperately to dig his rock pick into the talus to try to arrest his movement, but all he could do was pick at was looser talus. He described the feeling of desperation he felt as he tried to dig his feet and the hammer into the material, at the same time clutching out with his other hand, as his speed increased. It was like trying to grab air, he said.
He finally brought his near free-fall under control by gripping the hammer, pick downward, with both hands and exerting pressure with all his strength. Lucky for him the talus body became thinner and he was able to penetrate through to the underlying bedrock. Little by little he slowed down as he trenched along with his pick, and finally stopped, as the rest of the talus went on down just past him. About 50 feet below, the talus was crashing against several big boulders that jutted out of the slope. Using his hammer like a piton, he inched his way across the slope to solid rock. He estimated that he had slid over 100 feet. Letter Chignik, Alaska August 12, 1956 Well, it’s pretty foggy out so we haven’t gone out into the field. We’re hoping that it clears up later so we can go out and finish what little work we have left to do.
This is the latest plan. We’re to leave here the 15th or 16th and sail to Kodiak. At Kodiak we’ll leave the ship and fly to Anchorage. Reservations should be awaiting us at Anchorage for our flight to Seattle. When we arrive in Seattle we’ll make our own arrangements to get home. I guess I’ll fly home to Grand Junction from Seattle. I’ll wire you from Seattle and let you know when I’ll arrive home.
Editor’s note: Ornelas returned home on August 23, 1956, after almost three months on the Eudora. After a few days off, he was advised to move to Denver as soon as convenient and that he could write the report of the summer’s activities after settling down in Denver.
The final report recommended that the hydrocarbon prospects of the area studied were very poor and that no further action should be taken.
Ornelas is now retired from Phillips and resides in Austin, Texas.
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