Later, on the return journey, when theWanderer IIwas cruising at full speed and the cold wind was in their faces, Gwen and Peter retreated to the heated cabin below. They found empty seats in the front row before the large viewing windows.
Gwen removed her mittens. “What we saw today makes me think of Valerie’s song lyrics.Rivers of ice flow from mountains to sea, and thunder resounds without rain.Now I understand what she was alluding to—white thunder beneath a blue sky.”
Peter removed his mittens as well. “I could have stayed there all day. It was better than television.”
“By far,” she agreed, crossing one leg over the other. “I’ve seen videos of glaciers on YouTube, but that can’t compare to seeing them in real life. I’ll never forget this. Not as long as I live.”
Peter nodded. “Sometimes you just have to admit that this planet is something of a miracle.”
Gwen rested her head on Peter’s shoulder. She felt fortunate to be alive and immensely grateful for this beautiful day.
After the boat cruise, Gwen and Peter enjoyed a light lunch at Crab Cabin, then returned to their rooms for some downtime before heading out to the site of Old Town Valdez.
The drive took about twenty minutes, and they found a place to park on a dirt road that led to the water and the former location of the doomed city docks.
They got out and shut the car doors. Peter retrieved his camera case and tripod from the trunk, and they walked toward a concrete slab that turned out to be the original post office. It was now a memorial with information about the quake.
They read each panel while pondering the past and gazing around at the fields of grass and young spring flowers. The natural landscape made it difficult to imagine an entire town existing here a half century ago. It was all gone now, yet it was not forgotten.
Gwen and Peter walked on. The sky was clear blue, and the sun shone brightly. There was barely a breath of wind.
“It’s so peaceful,” Gwen said in a quiet voice. “But there’s something somber about it.” She gazed across the meadow. “It’s beautiful, but it feels like ... I don’t know ... a burial place.”
“Yes.”
Together, they continued, their sneakers crunching over bits of gravel on the road. Eventually they came to an intersection marked with road signs.
“McKinley Street,” Peter said. “This is right about where the ground opened up in front of Valerie and the baby carriage got stuck.”
They stared at the ground for a moment, and Gwen turned toward the water. “Then the wave came rushing in.”
Today, the water was calm—like a looking glass reflecting the forest and mountains. No danger there. Only reflection.
Peter set up the tripod and camera and took some pictures. Gwen assisted by holding the camera case and light meter, passing it to him when he asked for it.
“Did you get some good shots?” she asked afterward when he folded up his tripod.
“Yes. Incredible. These will go in the book, next to images of the Old Town as it used to be. I hope the Valdez Museum will have something they’ll be willing to share, along with permission to publish.”
“I can help you with that,” Gwen said. “I’m looking forward to meeting Douglas.”
They soon reached the water’s edge. The tide was out, and a few pilings from the old dock were visible, as well as what remained of the Village Morgue Bar.
“This is where Frank Brown was when the shaking started,” Gwen said. “I hate to imagine him running out to save Carol, then going down with the dock.”
“He couldn’t have known he was going to die for her,” Peter replied. “Or maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything if he knew. Those are the moments when people show who they really are and what matters to them.”
Gwen couldn’t help herself. She reached for Peter’s hand and held it as they looked out at the shallow water where the earth below had liquefied during the quake. The docks and everything else had slid into ice-cold whirlpools of death and doom.
“Let’s go back,” Gwen said. “I think I’ve seen enough.”
“Me too,” Peter replied.
They turned and took note of the markers along the way showing where businesses and homes used to be, then got into the car and drove back to Wilderness Lodge.
Their dinner reservations were set for seven, but Gwen was overcome by the events of the day—the highs of the magnificent Columbia Glacier followed by the lows of the Old Town and the shadow of all that death. She needed some time alone to rest and reflect.
That night, after dinner, the temperature dropped. Gwen and Peter sat in the main lobby in front of a hot fire. The restaurant manager brought rum cocktails on a tray, and they spent the evening skimming through a few research books they had purchased in the gift shop.
