planrs, they were communities. At Orea, the best reminder of these earlier times is the dining hall. Each morning and evening, the Orea kitchen turns out solid meals on a giant stove installed more than a century ago. This friendly and soo thing gathering place is much like the working canneries I'd known thirty years before. Tuesday brought the rest of the team: State Archaeologist Dave McMahan, M ike Burwell of the Minerals Managemenr Service, and Karl Gurcke of the Klondike Gold Rush National Historic Park-each representing Alaskan interests. Our official "History Detective" is Elyse Luray, a dynamic professional art appraiser and auctioneer. Accompanying her from Oregon Public Television were rwo producers, one photographer, and one sound technician. Rounding things out were Gabe Scott and a fishing guide, Jim Fritsch, sent by the Orea Lodge to keep us out of trouble. Alaskan weather is devious and the
Orea Lodge, a certain level of concern was growing. For the first time, perhaps, this television crew from the lower 48 began to understand that schedules in Alaska are, at best, hopeful guidelines. Getting into Katalla was one thing-getting back out would be another matter. Wednesday morning brought good weather and we took off In principle, flying scares me. Nevertheless, there is something comforting about flying in the Alaskan bush with a real professional. The flight over the expansive Copper River Flats and along the mountainous coastline was breathtaking. This grand landscape awes yo u and makes you feel small. As we approached Katalla, our pilot made a slow scouting pass along the beach looking for a clear path to land-standard beach fl ying procedure. Hitting a rock or chunk of drifrwood is just plain bad. That morning the tide was extremely low and we had lots of landing room.
Surveying by airplane. Portland sremains are clearly visible on the east side ofthe river. filming schedule was tight. Elyse had to be back in New York for a live television program on Sunday. Our plan called for jumping into three small airplanes and heading for Katalla. Despite Cordova sunshine, fog prevailed at Katalla. Bush pilot Gail Ranney, owner of a well-known air taxi service (and Steve Ranney's mother), told us that fl yi ng this evening was out of the question. A veteran of four decades of Alaskan aviation, Gail takes no chances. Tomorrow, we hoped, would be better. While the team took solace in a marvelous dinner of king- and sockeye salmon at the SEA HISTORY 111 , SUMMER 2005
For a nautical archaeologist, one of the best experiences is to see a shipwreck site for the first time. Katalla's natural environment intensified this experience. Like Lawrence of Arabia, we crossed a wide sandy expanse, our faces pelted with wind-blown grit. Only the criss-crossing of little streams violated a desert-like landscape. Finally, crossing over a crest in the sand hills, we found what we had come to study. Appearing out of the sand was a large inracc steam engine. As we moved closer, more objects and features appeared. Boilers that powered the engine, wooden
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Alaska
Pacific Ocean sections of hull, brass piping, bronze fittings, and another smaller steam engine for lifting cargo. Far more of the wreck was preserved under the sand. I am not sure what we had really expected to find-but we had already found more than we had dared to hope. The question remained, however: was it Portland? Most of the larger vessels built in the United States over the past rwo hundred years or so have lefr some records. The federal government and insurance companies kept careful track of ship ownership, sizes, and homeports. Portland first took shape in 1885 at the New England Shipbuilding Company under the name Haytian Republic in the famous shipbuilding town of Bath, Maine. Built of good white oak frames and yellow pine planking, the ship measured 191.5 feet long and 36 feet wide, and drew 20 feet of water. Her custom-built 650-horsepower compound steam engine with its 22-inch diameter high pressure and 44-inch low pressure cylinders and 36-inch stroke (the vertical distance traveled by each cylinder), offered the best chance for quickly ruling out, or helping to substantiate, that the Katalla wreck's identity is Portland. Archaeology in front of the camera becomes a strange and time-consuming affair. Just approaching the site for the first time required several takes. By the time we finally reached the wreck, the quickly-rising tide had begun covering her timbers. Time was short, and as the film crew shot supporting scenes, I got to work. After a quick visual survey of wreck, I scaled the eleven-foot plus tall engine. Taking o ut my folding carpenter's rule, I laid it across the round flange that marked the top of the
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