Saturday morning we left Sterling, the Kenai River, and Dan. When we were there in 2001, parked in the same spot by the fast-flowing Kenai, Dan—a professional guide and outfitter—took us out in his boat. It was October, cold and only intermittently sunny. We shivered our way up the river, saw few fishermen, a shoreline gold and green, many eagles and spectacularly clouded skies.
This time, we arrived in the thick of fishing season: salmon were swarming, so were the fishermen. This time, Dan had clients booked; and we didn't plan to fish or spend time on the river.
And this time, Dan had a second boat. I'm missing many details of the story of Dan, his boats, and how he got this second boat, but I want to share some of what I know.
Dan was 18 when he and Andre met and worked together on the pipeline in Valdez. Andre left; Dan continued doing survey work. At some point he began working for an oil company on the "North Slope", by Prudhoe Bay, and did so for many years. His job was to pump by-products from the drilling process back into the earth as the well was being drilled. One day he was ordered, in addition, to inject other waste into the same location: solvents, oils, liquid from working on vehicles, rigs, etc. I can't recite the complete list, but it was long, varied and lethal. By law, these wastes were to be dumped back into one deep hole at one location—only. The company was expected to truck wastes there from all its sites.
On the day when his bosses told him to pump those poisons into the wrong place, he protested. Said it wasn't right, or legal, that he didn't want to break the law. After deep thought, he realized he had no choice but to be a whistle-blower. He lost everything. His marriage did survive. His four children are almost grown now, and they've all lived through what was a horrible time emotionally and financially. The people who ordered him to break the law ultimately fared better.
He began a new career as a glazier. After a while, this native Alaskan who grew up hunting and fishing decided to become a certified guide, to take people out to hunt, fish, or just see the Kenai River. For that, he needed a boat. Committed to the idea that people in wheelchairs—especially veterans—should also be able to fish and see the river, he had a boat built that would safely accomodate wheelchairs. For that, he received the gratitude of his disabled passengers and their families, recognition, awards, community support, and increased community awareness about the necessity for accessible docks.
Since guiding is seasonal, he had to continue glazing, and severely injured his back on the job. A long period of pain and recuperation followed. The injury and life-threatening side effects of surgery limited his ability to work. With the help of his sons he was able to keep the guide business viable. Because the state of Alaska recognizes the value of Dan's accessible boats—and as a form of rehab for him—they subsidized the building of a second boat. He found someone willing to build it affordably, and it was completed this year. Wheelchair passengers enter the first boat from the side; they roll in on a ramp from the front of the new boat.
Business was just starting to build again this summer. Fishing is only allowed on certain days and under certain conditions. Just before we arrived, one of Dan's clients caught an 81 pound salmon from that new boat. (The current record is 96.) Thus, another newspaper article for the Last Frontiersman. The day before we left, he took out a father and his severely retarded son. The young man was excited with his catch, which made Dan happy. But we left him again facing great challenges: loss of access to the Kenai, as he helplessly watches his parents in their continuing, confusing battle to retain ownership of their land, and the necessity of finding work for the winter.
The sun never lasted long while we were in Sterling. It was cold and rainy. It was hard, knowing what Dan and his family face now. He has worked hard; his love extends beyond his family. He has spent his life trying to make positive contributions. When I met Dan in 2001, after years of working with Margaret and moving at times in the community of people with disabilities, I felt a connection to him because of his boat. I was grateful for what he dreamed and then manifested. I hope that, despite the darkness oppressing him and his family now, his spirit will continue to shine.
This time, we arrived in the thick of fishing season: salmon were swarming, so were the fishermen. This time, Dan had clients booked; and we didn't plan to fish or spend time on the river.
And this time, Dan had a second boat. I'm missing many details of the story of Dan, his boats, and how he got this second boat, but I want to share some of what I know.
Dan was 18 when he and Andre met and worked together on the pipeline in Valdez. Andre left; Dan continued doing survey work. At some point he began working for an oil company on the "North Slope", by Prudhoe Bay, and did so for many years. His job was to pump by-products from the drilling process back into the earth as the well was being drilled. One day he was ordered, in addition, to inject other waste into the same location: solvents, oils, liquid from working on vehicles, rigs, etc. I can't recite the complete list, but it was long, varied and lethal. By law, these wastes were to be dumped back into one deep hole at one location—only. The company was expected to truck wastes there from all its sites.
On the day when his bosses told him to pump those poisons into the wrong place, he protested. Said it wasn't right, or legal, that he didn't want to break the law. After deep thought, he realized he had no choice but to be a whistle-blower. He lost everything. His marriage did survive. His four children are almost grown now, and they've all lived through what was a horrible time emotionally and financially. The people who ordered him to break the law ultimately fared better.
He began a new career as a glazier. After a while, this native Alaskan who grew up hunting and fishing decided to become a certified guide, to take people out to hunt, fish, or just see the Kenai River. For that, he needed a boat. Committed to the idea that people in wheelchairs—especially veterans—should also be able to fish and see the river, he had a boat built that would safely accomodate wheelchairs. For that, he received the gratitude of his disabled passengers and their families, recognition, awards, community support, and increased community awareness about the necessity for accessible docks.
Since guiding is seasonal, he had to continue glazing, and severely injured his back on the job. A long period of pain and recuperation followed. The injury and life-threatening side effects of surgery limited his ability to work. With the help of his sons he was able to keep the guide business viable. Because the state of Alaska recognizes the value of Dan's accessible boats—and as a form of rehab for him—they subsidized the building of a second boat. He found someone willing to build it affordably, and it was completed this year. Wheelchair passengers enter the first boat from the side; they roll in on a ramp from the front of the new boat.
Business was just starting to build again this summer. Fishing is only allowed on certain days and under certain conditions. Just before we arrived, one of Dan's clients caught an 81 pound salmon from that new boat. (The current record is 96.) Thus, another newspaper article for the Last Frontiersman. The day before we left, he took out a father and his severely retarded son. The young man was excited with his catch, which made Dan happy. But we left him again facing great challenges: loss of access to the Kenai, as he helplessly watches his parents in their continuing, confusing battle to retain ownership of their land, and the necessity of finding work for the winter.
The sun never lasted long while we were in Sterling. It was cold and rainy. It was hard, knowing what Dan and his family face now. He has worked hard; his love extends beyond his family. He has spent his life trying to make positive contributions. When I met Dan in 2001, after years of working with Margaret and moving at times in the community of people with disabilities, I felt a connection to him because of his boat. I was grateful for what he dreamed and then manifested. I hope that, despite the darkness oppressing him and his family now, his spirit will continue to shine.
posted by Susan at 6:39 PM
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