I Survived a mudslide
The Pacific Northwest Coast is a land of water and massive trees, a tangle of growth in a world where water is ample and sunlight scarce. Mists and fog drift and obscure, wrapping all objects in a clammy embrace. It is the land of the indefinite and hidden. Tellingly, Native American art here finds beauty in crisply defined boundaries and highly contrasting colors.
To a Midwesterner, though, the area is a place of wonder! Mountains shrouded in conifers, snowcapped for much of the year, partition the Pacific Ocean, block the rolling waves, and provide for wildlife in abundance not seen elsewhere. On occasional sunny days, diamonds glitter on the surface of the sea and animals and man emerge to soak up the sun. Many people come to see and some few come to stay. I was one that stayed.
Over 45 years ago, Southeast Alaska became my home. In 1983, I married my husband in Sitka, Alaska. Both of us had found employment in the fishing industry there, which places great demands for skill, ingenuity, and above all, endurance, upon all who make their living on the ocean. The State of Alaska gambled that we were a good risk and gave us a loan to buy our first boat. We again approached the State of Alaska in 1986 for help buying a piece of land in Wrangell, Alaska to build a home for our family, when our first child was born. Our homesite, a riff on the homesteading program, required us to build a dwelling to certain specifications, and live there for a set time, after which we would gain title to the land for the cost of surveying. Our piece of land was a bit unusual in that it was possible to drive to it, many homesites only have access via water or plane. To find it, one drove from Wrangell’s center exactly 11.2 miles on Zimovia Hwy, and the uphill side of the road- a one lane, unpaved, logging road with no electrical service, water, or sewer-was ours.
The first hint that our lot was more that just a bit unusual came when the seasoned contractor we hired to put in a pad for the pole building shop we built first told me “I lost money on that job, it took more than twice as much rock fill as I thought it would take. You’ve got a really wet spot there.” We knew, by then, that there was a tiny spring-fed stream on the property that would swell greatly in heavy rain, but provided a steady water source in our rare dry periods. The second hint came when we built a kitchen garden area-the excavator was nearly ensnared in muck, a consequence of disturbing a gravel layer wherein water flowed. We were to learn by experience to stop digging before hitting that gravel layer, or a new pond would have to be built. We were slow to recognize that the depth of dirt on our property was also a red flag-where did all that dirt come from? Southeast Alaska is generally rocky with perhaps at most, 2-3 feet of acidic soil overlaid with forest debris.
Shallow soil, though, does not mean small trees. The mountainside above our home held many thousands of conifer trees in excess of 90” tall, all the way to the very top of it. The trees’ roots graft themselves together to form an interlocking mat of roots to support the height of the trees-which mat holds all together in the very heavy rainfall that often occurs. But, about a decade ago, an insect infestation spread, and the slope above our home had many dying trees. (note the yellowish trees in the photo) Dying trees that failed to hold the soil and became juggernauts of destruction hurling down at 35 mph.
The slide began with enormous noise, like 5000 freight trains at once.
The noise had a physicality to it, I could feel it in my bones.
I was airborne immediately, I remember how odd it was to not be able to feel the weight of my arms and legs, it was as though they were not even there. My eyes must have been squeezed tightly shut. I remember being hit by flying debris. I knew it was a landslide, though I did not have any idea how large it was. I often wonder about the lack of weight in my appendages, who was carrying me by them?
A friend of mine was on a small plane forced down by weather to an unscheduled landing in a tiny Alaskan town. She was terrified until she saw her older brother, long deceased, sitting on the wing of the plane and smiling at her. She told me she knew then she was going to land safely.
Some time after the slide, the daughter of a good friend and neighbor came to me. She said, “ I have something kind of weird to tell you. The night of the slide? Somehow I knew you would be all right. I don’t know if my mom told me or what.” I thought about her mother who had died from cancer and said “ If they were looking for volunteers in heaven to keep me alive that night, I am sure your mom would be first in line.”
I know that there were angels there that night, keeping me aloft, out of serious harm. In the hospital, I had no broken bones! Everything in my house looked as though it had been in a blender, but I was unharmed! Not only was I unharmed, but I was given what I needed to survive a long, wet and cold night unclothed. I will never forget when I put my hand on a plastic bag to my right and knew instantly what it was. I knew it was a bag of polarfleece fabric, and that it was there to help me survive hypothermia. As soon as I touched the bag, I felt calm and not scared anymore. I knew God knew where I was, and that He intended for me to live through this. During the night, the water roaring down from above me made a 90* turn and chewed through a dirt bank alongside an access road to make another 90* turn, plunging directly down the side of the mountain into Pat’s Lake. Had that not happened, the roadway below my house would have been lost, and likely me with it. How did the water come to turn as it did? There can only be one answer to my survival and these questions, and I know the answer to be true, it is a miracle. God knew where I was, and He needed me yet for some purpose, so He sent His Help.
When I was about 5 years old, I dreamed of going to heaven and sitting on God’s lap. I was easy to put to bed at night after that because I hoped to go again. I know that God loves me, and He loves all the people on Earth just the same. The unfairness that everyone experiences here comes from our own choices and others’ choices. I also know that I have more yet to do here in my life. Some years prior to this I had a hard fought battle to live against Clostridium difficile. I should not have lived, but I did, and I did not know why, but there was a reason.
I had time to wonder again why I was still alive in the hospital after the slide. As I lay there during the first night in too much pain to sleep the idea to create this website came to me. During recovery, I heard more stories of miracles besides my own. I know that God wants His children to know that He is there, He loves us, and that miracles do happen. If anyone has one they are willing to share, please submit them by using the button on the homepage labeled ‘Your Miracle’.
