Drinks And Exploration In Dutch Harbor

I’ve been to Dutch a couple times now, but this is the first time that I have been able to explore Dutch Harbor and the island of Unalaska. The first (and last) time I was here, I was deployed to a boat upon arrival, and left immediately following disembarkation. Having a little time between boats was a welcomed opportunity. Dutch Harbor is fairly small, but sits sheltered between two islands connected by a bridge. My company’s bunkhouse lies on one island which just so happens to be the one with fewer amenities- primarily residents living in “The Valley”. One can see where Alaska Ship Supply, Safeway, the UniSea Plant, a couple of restaurants, and the local bar, “The Norwegian Rat” are from near our bunkhouse, and it is not very far away. However, to get there, the bridge has to be crossed, which is a deceivingly distant walk. I get little cardiovascular activity on the boats, so I always embrace an opening to get some, and have no problem making the walk. It is between that, or taking a cab at $20 each way. I'll walk.

While at the bunkhouse, I connected with a good friend who was in port for a short time before leaving on another trip. His boat was docked at the plant on the other island. We had talked about doing a quick hike before he went back out again. In order for us to have enough time to make the hike, I had to be at his boat in 45 minutes, and it was almost a 2 hour walk. Cabs in Dutch are cash only- I had none, nor did I want to shell out $40 even if I did. Being a small community where everyone knows everyone, I had heard that hitchhiking was acceptable and decided to try my hand (or thumb, rather) at it. I had never done it before, as where I live, you either can’t trust hitchhikers if you are the driver, or can’t trust most drivers willing to pick up hitchhikers. After walking a ways, I saw a van with a company logo on it pass by and decided to give it a try, half not expecting it to work. Sure enough, he pulled over and motioned to hop in. The driver seemed friendly enough, so I asked if he was heading towards UniSea and he said he’d give me a ride down the road. Saving me a good hour or more walk, I made it to the UniSea Bar and met up with my friend right on time. We had some lunch and a few beers and caught up for a bit. Not deliberately, the job is usually the topic of choice, as we all have our own unique experiences, both positive and negative, that we feel compelled to share amongst ourselves, as if to validate them.

The UniSea plant reminded me of the fishing sector of the port back home, but much busier. Smell is about as effective at painting a picture as sight is- the creosote in the wood pilings; the diesel of the boat motors; the cold, salty air, fish being processed, and seaweed on the nearby shoreline; all come together create something that takes you back in time. Little has changed in a hundred years.

After lunch, my friend and I made our way up to Bunker Hill. This mountain, aptly named, was used during WWII as a gun and bunker emplacement with a 360 degree view of the entire harbor. Opting for the shorter but steeper route to the top, we trekked up a hidden trail through over a foot of snow. We passed many eagles’ nests nestled in the side of the hill. After a short while we made it to the bunker and explored the inside, which had two levels, one of which you had to climb down a ladder to access. The view was spectacular and I was glad to have made the ascent.

The following day, my friend was gone, but my need to get out and explore had not been fully satisfied. After breakfast, I left the bunkhouse and walked up the road leading deeper into the valley. After a short distance, the houses disappeared, but the road kept going. First the houses vanished; paved road gave way to dirt road, dirt road to snow. There was still clearly a path beneath the snow, and as usual, my curious side begged me to keep going and see what lie at the end of the road, which was still not yet in sight. The snow kept getting deeper and deeper, but I kept pressing on. I took a detour off of the road toward what appeared to be the edge of a large ravine, likely carved out by the river running along the side of the road I had followed. Sure enough, that’s what it was, and it was headed by a stunning waterfall. The weather this day was uncharacteristically beautiful- almost cloudless sapphire skies behind ashen mountains, and now a steep waterfall. Hiking alone, it is hard not to feel like you are the one who discovered such a wonder, still knowing, but ignoring that it has been seen by hundreds if not thousands before.

After lingering in admiration for a time, I continued up what I had interpreted to be the continuation of the path, though it had all but disappeared; the only tracks present were my own. Intuition led me to a sign that advertised that I had reached the Pyramid Peak Trailhead. I had heard about this trail, but decided to turn around and save that adventure for another day, as I was alone, and the snow was still quite deep. I was to be deployed to my second longliner, the Arctic Prowler on the following day.