Harry Kaiakokonok's first hand account of Novarupta

Present day Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes, created by the eruption of Novarupta in 1912.

NPS Photo/T. Urbanski

What makes a disaster? How do we assign value to destruction? The eruption of Novarupta makes these questions difficult to answer. This little-known but massive eruption has layers in its story that makes any student of history take pause and evaluate this devastating ecological event. In the days leading up to this eruption, the ground trembled in a prelude of what was to come. Over fifty earthquakes shook the land in quick succession, ten of which measured 6.0 or higher in magnitude; seismic activity that would have been devastating in its own right was soon overshadowed by the volcanic activity to follow.

On June 6, 1912 Novarupta exploded into creation. A three cubic mile mass of incendiary earth was spewed into the air and then returned to Earth in a pyroclastic flow moving at speeds as high as 430 miles per hour and reaching temperatures as high as 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit. A moving wall of inescapable heat incinerated everything in its immediate path. This flow devastated the surrounding ecosystem for decades, so why have most of us never heard of Novarupta? One guess, because the loss of human life was zero. Instead of an immediate fallout of human life, there was a longer more subtle displacement of people and culture.

The land surrounding Novarupta had been used by Alaskan Native peoples for over 9,000 years. An interior land route existed through the mountains at Katmai Pass connecting the coast to the interior allowing the migration of people to follow resources though the seasons.

If people were so prevalent in this area, how did they escape the destructive effects of the volcano’s immediate fallout? The answer is simple, salmon. Salmon are the reason there were zero casualties for this extreme geological event. Those who use this area today know the same as those from over 100 years ago, June is salmon fishing season. Many of the men in the villages of Katmai and Savonoski had moved out of their homes and towards the seas in fishing vessels. Many women had also left to work in the canneries for the season, leaving their native villages all but empty. There were however a few eyewitness accounts.

 

Father Harry Kaiakokonok, his wife Jennie and foster son Tommy. The photograph was taken in King Salmon, April 29, 1975.

NPS photograph KATM 00236

“It was morning times. Sun was shining bright all over. Like fine weather all over. We children’s playing on the beach. We don’t think nothing. When BLA-LOOM! Like hell! We jump up and look at one another. Everybody say, ‘What’s that is?’ Then we look over there. Sky all full of lightnings. We don’t see no lightnings before.”

This is the account of Harry Kaiakokonok. Harry was a young boy at the time of the eruption, and was awed by the excitement of the event, not understanding the full ramifications of what was happening around his boyhood home. Instead of fear, Harry felt unbridled awe and joy over seeing and experiencing something as simple as lightning. What Harry and his childhood friends didn’t understand, the community elders did. Harry recalls, “Everybody of grown peoples carrying water from creek. They say ashes going to fall in water so peoples can’t drink it.”

Community elders recognized what the earth was telling them. The earthquakes and lightning were signs of what was to come, and they knew what preparations were needed to better survive the fallout of the oncoming volcanic eruption. Harry recalled an elder from the Katmai Village, “...he must have had experience about that eruption — and then he started hollering and telling people about their water. ‘Put away as much water as you can and store it, reserve it— Whenever ashes come down, there will be no water to drink anywhere! And people do what he tells them. And, they put up quite a bit of supply of water. Whatever container they haven’t got they fill it up and store it into cabins and the houses, the storerooms.” Without the knowledge of village elders the few remaining people would have found themselves without potable water, a condition of freshwater ways that lasted in some areas for over five years.

But what was it like, riding out an eruption like Novaupta? For Harry is was as exciting as it was frightening. He recalled the early stages of the event, “It started snowing like that fin pumice coming down. Make a lot of noise in some places where you can hear, the size of rice, some of it; some of it smaller; and some of it bigger; and some of it as big as a kettle or pot. They were all different sizes. Fortunately, nobody get hit in the head during the time with things falling down.” As the eruption event continued conditions deteriorated. Harry saying, “Dark didn’t come all of a sudden, it comes gradually. Getting darker and darker and darker, and darker, and pretty soon pitch black! So black even if you put your hand two or three inches from your face outside you can’t see it ‘cause it was so dark.”

The eruption lasted over sixty hours, pelting Harry and his village with a constant supply of ash and pumice. Imagine the emotions of the remaining people who are sequestered in their homes surrounded by darkness. They were in the dark in more ways than one. They didn’t have the internet, tv, or radio to tell them any updates about the eruption, they had no way of knowing how bad it was, if it would get worse, and when it would end. After three days of uncertainty, they are finally able to emerge from their homes to see how their home had been impacted. Harry recalled reports of, “... porpoises in the bay, swimming, ... after they get their blowholes filled up with those sinking ashes down below, and they couldn’t close it no more. And so they just swim on top of the water.”

The impact on the land wasn’t much better. Harry said, “There were no birds... They must have all been blind... And those squirrels that were on the ground they must have been starved to death with all that ashes. No kind of a green stuff — just the tops of the alders could be seen...” The toll this eruption had on the surrounding habitat was seen immediately, the toll taken on the people of the land was more subtle in its devastation.

Harry and the rest of communities surrounding Katmai were evacuated after the eruption to the town of Afognak for the first few weeks following the destruction of their villages. After a short stay in Afognak, Harry recalled, “From there they took us out again. I didn’t where they... where we were going, but the people had the Coast Guards give the people quite a long notice for them to make decisions which way they wanted to go. Southwestward or eastward from Kodiak. The people didn’t know which way to go, which way would be better for them for living; and a lot of people wanted to go further southeast; and some people wanted to go to the West.”

The people who lived and used the land of the Katmai area were tied to the land. Their survival was dependent on their knowledge and understanding of the resources surrounding them, moving to a new location not only hurt their way of life, but their livelihood. Knowing where and when to fish can mean the difference of surviving a winter or perishing. Knowing the plants and which will feed you, heal you, or hurt you made surviving possible in a land that to any other would appear inhospitable. Being forced to relocate after this huge geological event set people up for a difficult recovery in new and unfamiliar lands.

With community members going their own way and village citizens separating all to different areas not only did the people get spread out, but also their culture. Elders were separated from community groups and with them, also went their knowledge. Despite this difficulty the evacuees worked to save what they once had by being the bridge of knowledge, sharing their stories and experiences with the new generation of survivors in their new homes.

At age 67 Harry told interviewers, “I’m a teacher in school about old timers style. I have been telling the children about the old timers style. I have been telling the children about my past, my ancestors, my young life, before I was born. I talk to the children in my school every Friday... I show them what is good to eat I our style, what kind of herbs to be edible what kind of seaweeds are edible, what is poison, when the seafood turns poisonous; and how to survive in the land or in the beaches. I do everything to them that I can, so that they’ll know...”

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Sources:
Report to National Park Service, Region Four, on Tape Recordings of Eyewitness Accounts of Mt. Katmai Eruption of June 6^th, 1912. Submitted by L. S. Cressman. Department of Anthropology. University of Oregon. January 5^th, 1962.

Interview with witnesses of Katmai Eruption. Transcript of tape recording of Harry Kaiakoknok by Seasonal Ranger Anthony Sisto. September 29^th, 1975.

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You can read more about people’s direct experiences with the 1912 eruption in Witness: First Hand Accounts of the Largest Volcanic Eruption of the Twentieth Century.