Prior to the Great Alaska Earthquake the land along the shore of Turnagain Arm was as much as 8 feet higher. The earthquake slipped the earth’s crust allowing the land at the mouth of 20-Mile Creek to sink. Before the earthquake I fished the area many times a season. A one-hour drive from Anchorage would put me on the creek. Ten minutes to slip the boat from its trailer and load up our gear, and another 15 minutes of river travel put us at an excellent silver fishing hole at the junction of 20-Mile and its first clear water tributary.
Our habit was to arise early, drive to the creek, dash to the tributary, fish for a couple of hours, and return home in time for work. An alternate schedule was to leave after work, do our fishing and return home before it got dark. We did this several times a week during the silver run. The limit was 6 fish and it didn’t take long to supply our needs of fillets and smoked salmon.
One such day my fishing partner, Max Marquiss, and I arrived at the fishing hole in the early evening. As we pulled into the tributary and slid the boat up on the beach we discovered the water was boiling with migrating silver salmon. It was an evening when we almost had to bait our hook from behind a tree to keep the fish off until we could cast. In our exuberance we forget the time and fished until it was dark.
Wanting to remain over and catch the morning’s first fishing we justified staying by making the excuse that we didn’t want to go on the river at night. We pulled the 12-boat up on the beach, propped it up on its side for a lean-to, built a fire in front, and cooked a fresh-caught silver for dinner. Using spruce boughs for a bed we slept until it was light.
With the first light of morning we noticed that the water in the stream had come up during the night. We paid it little attention and went about fishing. Finally running out of time we left the stream so we could return home in time for work.
When we arrived back at our car we discovered that it had been flooded by the tide. We learned that the year’s highest tide had occurred that night. Fortunately, water did not get into the gas tank, but the engine and seats had been covered. We drained the crankcase and flushed it out with kerosene, then filled it with oil. It started up and we let it run for a few minutes. We then reflushed it with kerosene and refilled the crankcase with oil, and sitting on wet seats we returned to Anchorage.
Immediately, the car was taken to a service station and given the full treatment. It was then run through the car wash several times. It seemed to run all right, and except for a foul interior smell it appeared that we had escaped with only a minor expense and a little inconvenience. With the coming of winter we soon learned we were mistaken. At the first day of freezing weather we found that water had gotten into many places and it remained even after service. Things that were supposed to slide didn’t. Windows wouldn’t roll up or down. The transmission wouldn’t shift; the interior fogged up, and then froze restricting our vision.
Toward summer, when it seemed that all was well and we were now past any crisis, inconvenience turned to tragedy. First, the U-joints broke, then door windows handles refused to work, and finally the front wheels fell off. Upon careful examination we discovered that almost everything covered by the saltwater of Turnagain Arm was rusted away or corroded beyond use or repair. We had to junk the car.
I’ve only been back up 20-Mile once since the earthquake. The gravel beaches we fished from and camped on are now covered with mud. Because the land has lowered, the beach is now tide affected. No longer can Max and I siwash it on 20-Mile and fish all night for silvers, even if we remembered to keep our car above the tide line.
