Over-Exposure

Calving Glaciers, Freezing Temperatures and Deadly Tidal Waves – Alaska’s Untamed Wilderness is No Place for the Inexperienced Big-Wave Surfer

Journeying 26 miles east from the city of Cordova, Alaska, down the AK-10 highway, Hawaiian big-wave surfer Garrett McNamara was trying to soak in his new surroundings. Originating at Copper Glacier on Mount Wrangell, the Copper River is the 10th largest in the nation, spilling into aptly named Copper Bay. Recognized for its annual salmon runs that host more than 2 million spawning fish, the migration passes through the Copper River Delta and is considered the largest continuous wetland along the Pacific in North America. But what drew Garrett and a crew of intrepid surfers to this place wasn’t the world-famous fishing or beautiful scenery, but glacial splintering.

On June 23, 1993, most of the face at Child’s Glacier broke off, causing a surging tidal wave that sucked nearly all the water from the river, pushing it 200 yards inland. The force of the deluge uprooted towering trees, catapulted boulders, tossed unsuspecting people into treetops, and littered blocks of ice deep into the surrounding forests. This process – although on a smaller scale – is commonly referred to as “calving.”

“Calving is like when a mother cow gives birth to a calf,” Garret explained. “Basically, that’s what the glacier does: It gives birth to a big chunk of ice and it falls into the water, creating a wave.”

The expeditionary group would include surfers Garrett and partner Kealii Mamala, a film crew led by Chris Gabriel, professional surfing journalist Kimball Taylor, and local glacier expert Luke Borer, who would offer the group the use of his riverside cabin for the week, as well as his intimate familiarity with the landscape.

Along with several vehicles towing two Sea-Doo RXTs, $1,000 worth of groceries, film equipment, riding gear, cold-water suits, and much, much more, the crowd arrived at their lodgings on a gray afternoon. That night, the conversation turned to safety, the remoteness of their location, and the potential for life-threatening danger looming overhead.

The next morning was cloudy and cold. Dressed in little more than a pair of boxers and a winter hat, Garrett wiggled into a wetsuit. Over his neoprene-covered legs, he donned twin knee braces.

“This is normal procedure when I’m going into a heavy situation, usually when it’s something like Tahiti; last time at Tahiti, I didn’t put them on, and this whole piece was gone,” Garrett recounted, pointing to a sizable portion of his leg, exactly where the knee brace covers, and then picking up a helmet. “There is a possibility that a glacier might hit me. I want to maximize the chance of surviving. This thing is built properly to take a heavy-duty impact.”

Suddenly, the air calmed. Birds ceased their singing. Nature hushed eerily. Like the sound of distant gunfire, a sequence of pops and then loud cracking reverberated across the valley. A glacier is calving. Springing to his feet, Garrett yelled, “Here we go!”

But as they boarded the Sea-Doos, something was noticeably wrong with the watercraft. Limping back to shore, Garrett and Kealii scrambled to diagnose the issue. The sounds of collapsing glaciers were unlike anything any of them have ever experienced. A cacophony of cracking, snapping, popping and deafening thunder, it sounded like the earth was standing still and breaking apart simultaneously.

One of the cameramen noticed a second shelf beginning to break free. The sound drowned out the cameraman’s yells but drew everybody’s attention. The sheer tonnage of the broken piece dwarfed anything that would fall during the rest of the week.

“That’s what you want to run away from,” warned Luke, who went on to further explain the dangers of the glacier. “Don’t even try to surf something like that. Those pieces are going 200 mph, and it’s suicide to go into that. The chunks that were flying across the river were probably the size of the vans we drove in with.”

Despite proposals to venture into the maelstrom with only the single watercraft, Garrett and Kealii continued to work in complete silence. It’s frustrating to have come all this way and miss the first opportunity due to a mechanical gremlin.

“If you’re coming in the water, they [the Sea-Doos] are both going to be 100-percent ready,” Garrett said. “We aren’t putting anything in the water unless it’s ready. If we go in there half-cocked and lose a ski, we’d have nothing to save us.”

It was afternoon by the time they got the RXT running and in the water for the first time. The rest of the day was spent testing out the skis, learning the elements, scouting the river, and building a launch area.

It didn’t take much for people to realize Chris Gabriel is a character. Earlier, running at full speed down a steep trail with the camera rolling, Chris tripped and fell, cartwheeling into the brush. Wiping the dirt off his hands and checking for injuries, Chris laughed, “The number-one priority in my life is making sure the camera is safe.”

Then, pointing into the camera lens, Chris asked, “I’m not hurt – are you hurt?”

Setting up a launching area was more difficult than expected.

“We knew there were some rocks out there, but after going out there and scouting the whole bottom, there’re rocks everywhere,” Garrett complained. “It’s just nuts. You hit one rock with the ski and you’ve got a hole. These things don’t work too well when they’ve got a hole in them...”

The third day dawned gray and cloudy. Just before noon, the group arrived at the staging area just upriver from the glacier. The camera crew set up on the opposite bank. Patiently, Garrett and Kealii waited for signs of calving. Echoes of snaps, pops and grumbles indicated breaking in the ice but revealed nothing. Suddenly, far off, the shelf began to sag. Almost as fast as the face collapsed, the two sped off toward it on the runabouts.

The wave turned out to be nothing noteworthy and, ultimately, unridable. Kealii towed his partner back and forth in front of the mushy waves as huge chunks of ice fall, to little effect. At that point, the plan seemed to be to keep one surfer up on the rope and to circle around, waiting for a wave. That was the plan, but they soon tired, especially when heading back upstream. After a short break, the two ventured out again, with Kealii up on the rope and heading down river. There were several small calvings, which encouraged the two to continue their patrol up and down the face of the glacier.

That afternoon, the camera captured the tiny image of the ski drifting downstream with the current. A minute passed as the camera made small adjustments as the low, gray clouds passed overhead. Suddenly, the radio crackled

“Here it goes, here it goes!” Chris called out.

A small chunk broke loose under the huge pinnacles of ice tilted at a dangerous angle. Suddenly three huge columns started a slide down the face before they arched out over the river and crashed in an enormous explosion. Chunks of ice pelted the river, belching loud pops and spewing mist. Still filming, the skis raced toward the waves, with Garrett up on the rope. They rode over a mushy wave and disappeared from the camera’s frame. The camera failed to follow and record what Garrett would later describe on the radio: catching the first wave of the trip.

The waves produced were mainly low, soft and lolling – not like the furious, frothing man-eaters of Tahiti or Hawaii. And while tropical locations carry the threat of razor-sharp coral beds beneath them, this place felt far more ominous. The cloud of falling debris contained chunks of ice that could easily crush a man instantly. Cautiously, Kealii is towed into a long left-side ride. While mild, nearly every wave had a 10-foot face. The thrill comes from the near-death encounters with dropping debris like exploding shrapnel. Near-misses would take a toll. In an emotional call to his wife and children, Garret tearfully had expressed his fears and hopes for the trip. He’s worried about being squashed by ice chunks as big as a bus. Needless to say, he had never had this

problem before.

The fourth day began with Garrett making alterations to his board. Now familiar with the conditions, he chose to use a shorter board and different fins. At the glacier, they’ve abandoned the idea of waiting for waves on shore with the Sea-Doo anchored. They’ve now perfected the “drifting method,” in which they would drive up river and then drift downstream. They positioned themselves halfway between the glacier and shore, hoping to be in the right spot at the time of a calving.  As the day progressed, they began to realize that even this method might not get them close enough to where they want to be. They began to get braver, inching closer to the glacier’s face.

The day was filled with many near rides, short rides, failed attempts and wipe-outs. In one instance, Kealii pursued a big wave, but ultimately never released the tow-rope because there was too much ice in the wave – it was just too dangerous. During one of Garrett’s rides, a second calving broke loose. The film crew, worried, yelled, “Get Garrett and get out of there!”

Unharmed, Garrett came back into camp shaken but grateful to have both survived and enjoyed the experience. Overall, they managed to catch waves regularly, but they weren’t catching them as early as they’d have liked to. And they were not catching big ones. Garrett and Kealii remained positive; they felt they were making progress and that it would just be a matter of time.

On the deck at the lodge on the morning of day five, Garret watched the glacier.

“Good morning, Vietnam! The bombs are dropping again,” Garrett groaned to himself. “I’m ready to enter the battlefield.”

The day was gray, and a low mist hung over the mountains. The morning was marked by a series of small calvings as Garrett and Kealii patrolled up and down the river, alternating on the rope and drifting with the current. The morning turned to afternoon, with more small calvings and more waiting. Visibility was worsening.

Drizzle turned into rain, and rain makes everything worse in Alaska. Miserable, wet and cold, the crew’s spirits were starting to crack. Worse, the runabout began to emit a sequence of metal-on-metal howls from inside its pump. A rock had embedded itself in the prop, grinding it to a halt. To add insult to injury, the change in weather incurred a drastic change in the glacier, which now began shedding calves regularly – more missed waves. Without the proper tools, the rock was permanently lodged. A trip into town would be needed to repair the Sea-Doo.

Back at the lodge, Luke and the media crew talked on the deck. The sky was still gray, but the rain had stopped. Luke explained how far back the glacier is than it was in June. He talked about the huge calving in 2003 and the wave that swelled toward the shore until it was eight feet from the cabin. Chris Bauman told a story about some Spanish tourists and their guide who took them inside the glacier to see the glacier up close and admire how precariously some big chunks lean out.

A trip to Cordova for a hardened drill bit and a stop at the bar did little to raise the crew’s spirits. Cabin fever, apparently, isn’t such an urban myth.

On the morning of day six, the runabout is still grounded. Waking up, the group was surprised to see sunlight streaming over the valley. Encouraged, they swarmed on the Sea-Doo, laboring to dislodge the embedded rock. After hours of frustration, the rock was extracted and the craft appeared to be in working order. With the sun warming the brittle ice shelf, calves began to drop at a faster pace. Kealii quickly caught the biggest wave of the trip, at 12 feet, and got the longest ride, 100 yards. Garrett devised a way in which they could whip each other into the waves at a higher speed, placing the surfer in a better position on the wave.

Almost immediately, a sizable portion of the glacier wall calved.

“That’s going to be the biggest thing I’ve seen here so far,” an awed Chris cried out over the thunder.

The right-side face was easily 15 feet and breaking perfectly. Kealii was on the tow rope as they sped to outrun the whitewater. When they finally caught the wave, Kealii wiped out immediately.

As the day progressed, they grew braver in their attempts to catch better waves. Wanting to basically park at the base of the glacier wall, the idea was to be as close to the impact zone as possible without incurring injury.

On the second-to-last day, the sun continued to pierce through the clouds, lighting the valley and warming the fragile ice. At the glacier, prior to entering the water, confidence was high among the group. Once again, Garrett and Kealii parked themselves extremely close to the glacier wall. It was clear that their lives were in much greater danger by attempting to catch waves in this manner.

The crew’s anxiety continued to build as Garrett and Kealii remained situated beneath the glacier wall as ice chunks fell all around them. There was a big calving, but it was not directly behind where the two surfers were stationed. As a wave began to form, Garrett had to avoid a minefield of rocks and

icebergs as he was towed toward the wave. He had a lot of speed as he reached the wave and he was able to pull into the wave successfully. Later, in reflection, Garrett would laugh uneasily, “We’re going where we never thought we could go.”

Being so close provided the surfers some new insight.

“The glacier not only calves from the top, it calves from underneath,” Garrett pointed out. “The whole foundation is coming out from underneath, indicating that there must be a river under the glacier. We can see under there – it’s crazy-looking.”

Watching the calving of the glacier is an annual tradition for some locals. As the winter temperatures slowly turn to summer, the ice begins to break off and float down the Copper River. Some locals coming to watch the natural spectacle are surprised to see the film crew and tow-in surfers.

Now, the watercraft was positioned at the base of the wall. Ice chunks were falling from every angle, littering the water around them every 30 seconds, making Garrett and Kealii uncomfortable. A native Cordovan, knowing what’s about to happen, began to yell as a pillar of ice fell just to the right of the duo. Aware of the falling berg, Garrett got whipped hard into a six- to seven-foot wave. He did a small aerial and nearly got barreled. It was his best ride of the trip thus far. As his ride drew to a close, another giant calving broke behind him. The local was still yelling in excitement, “Here comes the rest of it! That is a monster!”

The second calving produces a 20-foot wave – a perfect left. Missed it by that much...

As surfing ended for the day, tension was building between the film crew and the surfers. Waiting for the ice to break is not too different from waiting for paint to dry. Trying to put the “off time” to good use, the film crew was continually pulling the surfers aside for interviews. It seemed that the best waves were being produced while those on-shore interviews were taking place. This pattern persisted, much to the frustration of the surfers.

The final day was bittersweet. Starting off warm and sunny, the day grew cold and dark before the session ended. The surfing had just begun, and Kealii was already perturbed.

“We sit and wait – two, three, six hours – and it (the big waves) never happens,” he complained. “It just screws with my head. It doesn’t go off until two days later, when we’re not around. I can’t wait to get back to the ocean and get a real wave.”

Kellie’s frustration quickly turned to anger.

“I almost got a good wave,” he said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my partner. He puts me in a bad position every single time. He doesn’t do that in regular water. I think he’s scared.”

Kealii yelled to Garrett in the distance, “Right, Garrett? I told the camera you were scared.”

Garrett just sat in the water, by the ski, with his back to the camera.

After a long break, the two, embittered and silent, headed out into the cold river for the last time. Within four minutes of being in the water, as they reached the glacier wall, huge chunks of ice began to slide down the face. Within seconds, the entire pillar fell with the two just left of the impact. It was the closest to a calving they’ve been. Kealii was on the rope as masses of white water raged toward him. On camera, it looked like the 12-foot wave swallowed Kealii whole. It was a full 15 seconds before Kealii re-emerged, unscathed and smiling. It’s not the massive wave that Garrett and Kealii had hoped for before arriving in Alaska, but it was the best wave of the trip. But as a reminder of the toils of the past week, it was only just before everyone had loaded up into the vans to leave for the airport that the pillars that had loomed over the surfers the entire week would all fall at once. The wave produced was double-overhead – a surging, rolling mass worthy of the books.

It would be yet another story of the fish that got away.