Southeast

In July, a state inspector boarded a cruise ship in Juneau for a routine review. The inspector’s report includes a photo that shows a metal drum full of chunky, black sludge — a mixture laden with sulfur and heavy metals.

That particular drum was slated to be offloaded on land, in British Columbia. But on many ships, systems known as scrubbers ensure the toxic sludge never materializes on board. That’s because it’s diluted with sea water and released back into the ocean.

Now, state Sen. Jesse Kiehl is looking to address the issue. The Juneau Democrat is drafting legislation in hopes of cracking down on the technology, which produces a largely invisible – and little regulated – source of water pollution.

“There’s still dirty fuel belching sulfur into Alaska. And that’s a problem,” Kiehl said in an interview last month.

The issue is not isolated to Alaska. And neither are efforts to address it. A growing list of ports, states and countries are zeroing in on the problem, which stems from rules adopted by the International Maritime Organization in 2020.

Cutting air pollution led to new water pollution

The IMO wanted to cut air pollution, namely sulfur pollution, from ships that burn heavy marine oil. While some cruise and shipping companies complied by using cleaner fuels, known as distillate fuels, others invested in scrubbers.

The technology allows them to continue burning dirty fuels by using seawater to remove pollutants from ship exhaust. So-called “open loop” systems send that contaminated water right back into the sea.

Experts say each individual open loop scrubber can produce up to 3,600 metric tons of water per hour. And some ships run multiple scrubbers at once.

When exhaust with high levels of sulfur and other pollutants is released into the air, they can increase the risk of cancer, respiratory complications and cardiovascular diseases. 

Scientists have been studying what happens when those pollutants are released into the ocean. But a growing body of research indicates it can harm marine life, including mussels and crustaceans, like crab, said Eelco Leemans, an advisor to the Clean Arctic Alliance, a global coalition focused on the shipping industry.

“The evidence is so clear that we have no reason to doubt that,” Leemans said.

Regulatory challenges

A tangled web of rules and regulations surrounds the issue. The IMO sets the global standard. And for now, the international body allows ships to use scrubbers to comply with its air pollution rules.

But there’s a growing push for that to change. Just this week, the agenda for an IMO subcommittee meeting in London featured more than a dozen proposals from member states and other organizations related to scrubber regulation.

“We believe that scrubbers do not provide the solutions that they were designed for, because basically they transfer air pollution to water pollution,” Leemans said during a recent webinar hosted by the Clean Arctic Alliance ahead of the meeting. “In the end, IMO should really do something about this.”

In the meantime, governments are taking matters into their own hands. In July, for example, 15 nations and the European Union moved to prohibit scrubber discharge in internal waters and port areas – and will consider extending the ban to about 12 miles offshore.

The U.S. has taken a less aggressive approach. The Environmental Protection Agency regulates scrubbers by way of a permit that sets limits for the concentration of pollutants in discharge. But at least in Alaska, the agency has rarely enforced those limits – despite hundreds of violations in some years.

The EPA did not respond to a request for comment by press time.

State regulators in Alaska, for their part, conduct routine environmental inspections on ships, which often entails observing scrubber operations and reviewing washwater data. In some cases, they flag problems for the EPA.

But in the end, the state Department of Environmental Conservation says it can’t enforce the EPA’s scrubber regulations themselves.

“Scrubber washwater is not addressed in State statutes, regulations, or the State’s general permit for vessels, and the State currently has no authority to enforce a federal permit,” Ben Eisenstein, DEC’s cruise ship program manager, wrote in an email.

Kiehl says that puts Alaska and other states in a bind.

“It’s really difficult with the federal government stepping in and telling the state: ‘You have nothing to say about scrubber discharge,'” he said.

Clean fuel regulations

So localities and states can’t punish ships for violating federal standards. But some are pursuing – or have already implemented – other ways to get at the problem.

Kiehl, the state lawmaker, didn’t provide more details about what his legislation might entail, or when he might introduce it. But he said he’s exploring a range of options, and nodded to other governments that have largely taken one common path: addressing the type of fuel that vessels use in the first place.

Most experts point to California. The state adopted a rule in 2008 that required ships to use cleaner, lower-sulfur fuels within 24 miles of shore. The goal was to reduce air pollution – plus cancer and other public health risks – from dirty fuels.

The California rule predated the proliferation of scrubbers. But it means the state dodged the problem before it even existed. Ships are already using low-sulfur fuels in California waters and don’t need to scrub them clean.

“We don’t have the issues with wastewater discharge because (scrubbers are) not a compliance option,” Bonnie Soriano, of the California Air Resources Board, told KHNS.

Soriano was among experts who said that cleaner fuels don’t require new technology or systems; ships can simply swap them in. She also said most vessels already carry them.

“There are some differences in prices, but likely they have the fuel on board if they’re doing a string that involves California,” Soriano said.

Meanwhile, in Washington state, the legislature is mulling a similar approach. A bill there would require cleaner fuels within 3 miles of shore.

State Rep. Debra Lekanoff is the bill’s sponsor. She’s originally from Yakutat but now represents communities in northern Washington, including the San Juan Islands. During a January hearing, she drew a connection between her two homes.

“What’s happening in my own backyard, where my Tlingit name Xixch’I See comes from, is the very impact that happens upon the Salish Sea,” Lekanoff said.

A growing list of tribes and organizations support Alaska taking a similar approach. Just one example: The Skagway Traditional Council in October adopted a resolution that called on the state to require the use of cleaner fuel – and on the shipping industry and the IMO to do their part, too.

Industry opposition

The cruise and shipping industries have opposed efforts to require clean fuels or eliminate scrubbers – a dynamic that is already playing out in Washington.

During the same hearing, industry representatives said a clean fuel requirement would be burdensome and unnecessary, and that it would amount to a roundabout attempt to address a water pollution problem by way of an air pollution regulation.

“This unnecessarily restricts authorized environmental technologies,” said Donald Brown, a vice president of Cruise Lines International Association.

The trade group did not respond to a request for comment. But pushback in Washington state and beyond suggests that any potential legislation in Alaska could have a long road ahead.

Aaron Brakel, of the Southeast Alaska Conservation Council, said he doesn’t expect any potential legislation would be signed into law this year.

“What’s really important, though, is getting a chance for the Legislature to start considering the issue,” Brakel said.

“To be having a conversation about the state of Alaska taking action on dirty fuel and exhaust scrubbers is a huge step in the right direction,” he added.

Staff from Alaska Marine Lines and the Alaska Marine Highway System discussed EV shipping safety during a panel held by Renewable Juneau, an advocacy nonprofit, on Wednesday. 

Electric vehicles have grown in popularity in Juneau over the years, but shipping safety concerns have now made it more difficult for people to bring them to Alaska or send them out for maintenance.

AML stopped shipping electric vehicles to Alaska last year due to the fire risk posed by lithium ion batteries. The decision came after another company’s cargo ship carrying hundreds of hybrid and electric vehicles caught fire in the open ocean off the coast of Adak, burned for days and sank. An AML spokesperson said at the time the company would reassess its policy as industry standards improve. 

During the panel, AML President Don Reid said he wished there were reliable safety ratings for the various lithium ion batteries on the market. 

“Every manufacturer you talk to wants to tell you that their product is perfectly safe,” Reid said. “And, you know, who are you supposed to believe?”

Reid said he wants AML to be able to ship all vehicles, but he’s spent a lot of time researching the issue and speaking with consultants, and said that shipping EVs that plug-in would be too risky for the company at this point. 

“What I need is the confidence that the thing’s not going to catch on fire on the barge. That’s really what it comes down to,” Reid said.

AML was the last barge company to pull EVs off its Alaska shipping routes after Matson and Tote Maritime. Now, EVs can be shipped two ways: on the road system, which doesn’t extend to much of Southeast, or two-at-a-time on the ferry — creating a bottleneck for consumers.

Craig Tornga, marine director for the Alaska Marine Highway System, said people who want to ship an EV on the ferry from Bellingham might wait around three months. 

To improve safety procedures, the agency hired a vessel firefighter with expertise in EV battery fires. The procedures include recommending EV drivers not charge the battery too much before boarding, placing EVs in areas of the ship easy for firefighters to access and repeatedly inspecting the vehicles while in transit.

“We have thermal infrared handheld cameras,” Tornga said. “We go around and we — every hour, on the hour — we shoot the battery to see what the temperature is and make sure we don’t see any changes.”

In addition to the handheld cameras, the ferry system plans to install other thermal cameras and purchased high-powered sprayers called Turtle Fire Systems that can flood a battery box to cool it down. 

Disclaimer: The panel was hosted at KTOO, with staff outside the news department contracted to produce the event.

Members of the House Transportation Committee slammed state transportation officials on Tuesday over a controversial ferry project that lawmakers said stands to benefit private interests but not ferry users themselves.

“The Alaska Marine Highway System was created for Alaskans — not for DOT — but for people and their usage. And you know, I don’t like to see you lose sight of that,” Rep. Louise Stutes, R-Kodiak, said during the hearing,

At issue is the Cascade Point ferry terminal project. The Alaska Department of Transportation signed a $28.5 million dollar contract over the summer to kickstart the effort, which aims to shorten the ferry route between Juneau, Haines and Skagway.

The project would entail building a ferry terminal 30 miles farther north of Juneau than the current one in Auke Bay. That means passengers would have to drive or use a shuttle service to travel between the remote terminal and town.

The contract ignited a wave of opposition from people in all three communities during a public comment period. During the hearing, Stutes noted that the vast majority of the more than 600 public comment letters opposed the project.

“92% of the people said, ‘We don’t want Cascade Point,'” Stutes said.

The pushback has largely centered around concerns that the new terminal would make regional travel less convenient and efficient – as opposed to more, as the state has argued. People have also argued the funds would be better spent on improving existing ferry service.

Christopher Goins is DOT’s southcoast region director. During the hearing, he acknowledged that the numbers Stutes cited are correct and that the project has sparked a lot of “fear” in the public.

But he added that the agency is taking public feedback seriously. He said that includes extending the original comment period and planning two additional rounds of public meetings in Haines, Skagway and Juneau.

“My staff is going to sit there, and we are going to listen to what people have to say, because we want them to be able to put that on the record,” Goins said. “That is fair and that is just. I think this project, of all the projects, needs that process.”

Goins acknowledged public concern over the state’s decision to move forward with the initial contract before soliciting feedback. Still, he said, the agency plans to go through the proper process.

“I think a lot of people got afraid because we hired a contractor to do a design-build process,” Goins said. “That doesn’t mean that the design, and the engineering, and the permitting, the consultation that comes with that process, is ignored. It is not.”

That answer didn’t appear to satisfy lawmakers.

“When you talk about there being controversy and welcoming the dialog, it doesn’t seem to jive with the fact that dollars are already dedicated towards this project,” said Committee Co-Chair Ashley Carrick, D-Fairbanks.

Lawmakers also grilled Goins and DOT Commissioner Ryan Anderson over concerns that the project stands to benefit private interests more than the communities that rely on the ferry system to get to Juneau for health care, groceries, air travel and more.

The new terminal is expected to benefit Grande Portage Resources’ proposed New Amalga Gold Project, which would likely use Cascade Point as its logistical base. But the terminal would also serve as a boon to Goldbelt Native Corporation, which owns the land.

“It feels very strongly to me like what’s really happening is Goldbelt is the primary beneficiary of a project the state is going to utilize federal dollars to support,” Carrick said.

Anderson, the agency’s commissioner, emphasized the importance of the private sector to the state’s economy and said working with industry can help promote economic development in Alaska.

Other lawmakers pressed agency officials over a controversial economic analysis of the project and about uncertainty around the new terminal’s overall cost and whether it would actually generate significant savings for the state.

A Sitka-based cruise line is closing its doors. Alaskan Dream Cruises announced Wednesday that it has ceased operations and cancelled all future sailings.

In a post on its website, the cruise company said since 2011, it’s had the “privilege of sharing the wonders of Alaska and the richness of our Alaska Native heritage with incredible guests from across the globe.”

The company is owned by Allen Marine, a local maritime business that’s been offering wildlife and sightseeing tours in Southeast Alaska for about five decades.

“We’re really proud that we were a homegrown and Indigenous-owned line right here in Sitka,” said Allen Marine spokesperson Zak Kirkpatrick. “And that grew into world class cruises and winning national awards and appearing in worldwide publications, which was really something we’re proud about.”

Alaskan Dream Cruises operated four overnight cruise vessels that each held between 40 and 80 passengers, according to Kirkpatrick. Cruises lasted between five and eight nights, and offered a comprehensive look at the Inside Passage, with activities like hiking, kayaking and paddle boarding.

Kirkpatrick said the decision to get out of the overnight cruise business was “intentional and necessary” for the sustainability of the company.

“When you just kind of boil it down, the company is just planning to refocus 100% of our resources on what we consider our founding strengths and roots, which are the day tour excursions and the shipyard operations and marine services,” he said.

In 2025, Alaskan Dream Cruises employed 95 seasonal workers and about 10 year-round workers, and Allen Marine employed 305 seasonal workers and about 100 year-round workers for its other services, according to Kirkpatrick. With the closure, he said Allen Marine won’t be hiring for the overnight boats this cruise season.

The company said it’s directly communicating with all guests about reservations and processing refunds.

Representatives from the mining industry gathered in Vancouver, British Columbia last week for an annual conference.

But opponents of a mineral exploration project outside Haines seized on the opportunity for their own purpose. They wanted to send the industry one key message: “Leave our valley.”

In 2024, the Chilkat Indian Village launched an effort, dubbed Chilkat Forever, to lead public opposition to the Palmer Project, a zinc, copper, gold, silver and barite exploration site upstream of the Native Village of Klukwan.

The project has changed hands a number of times since then. That included in November, when Vancouver-based mineral exploration company Vizsla Copper acquired the project and declared its intent to earn community approval.

In response, Chilkat Forever has ramped up its messaging.

“We just want to make it very clear that there isn’t social licensing here in the Chilkat Indian Village,” said Kimberley Strong, the president of the Chilkat Indian Village.

The effort entailed placing ads on large digital screens around the conference, which was put on by the British Columbia Association for Mineral Exploration. That included a billboard fastened to Canada Place, a convention center in Vancouver. They also placed print and digital ads in newspapers including the Vancouver Sun, the Seattle Times and the Anchorage Daily News.

In bold, all-caps text, the ad read: “No means go.” Below that, in orange, it said “leave our valley.” The group communicated the same message in a video released in January.

The campaign came the same week that Vizsla announced plans for the project for this year – and touted a formal letter of support from Gov. Mike Dunleavy.

Dunleavy pledged his “full support” for the project in a letter dated Jan. 22, according to a copy obtained by KHNS. He added that the project stands to “strengthen Alaska’s role” in meeting federal mining objectives while also benefiting the state.

During a public speech in Vancouver last week, Vizsla CEO Craig Parry said Dunleavy had requested a meeting with him in Juneau.

“I’ve never seen such great access to government and to the permitting authorities. So the fact that we’ve been on the ground here a month now, and the governor in Alaska has asked for a meeting in Juneau is an extraordinary outcome to my mind.”

A Dunleavy spokesperson said in an email that the governor “supports responsible resource development in Alaska.”

The company is still finalizing the details of its plans for the summer, but it has brought on several contractors, Vizsla said in a release last week. That includes a $600,000 contract with a marketing company it says will carry out a “comprehensive media marketing campaign.”

As to this summer’s exploration efforts, the company plans to conduct up to 10,000 meters of diamond drilling focused on copper, zinc, silver and gold. The company also plans to focus more on barite and for the first time will include the mineral in the project’s overall value estimate.

Those who knew and loved Marlene Johnson say she was in constant motion — either behind the scenes, or on the forefront of the major issues that have shaped life for Alaska Natives for more than 60 years.

The Lingít leader died on Jan. 25 at the age of 90.

“People don’t realize how different Alaska would be without her, certainly Alaska Native lives,” said Vera Starbard, Johnson’s granddaughter, known for her poetry and as a screenwriter for national programs like the PBS hit series Molly of Denali and the TV drama, Alaska Daily.

Starbard says her grandmother sent her a steady stream of job leads, a sign that she found her chosen career to be too quiet and sedentary. Yet it has given Starbard plenty of time to reflect on her grandmother, enough to begin work on a play about how she became a voice for change.

Advocacy for ANCSA

Johnson’s role in the passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act is one of her biggest legacies. Today, ANCSA remains the nation’s largest land claims settlement in history – legislation she helped to steer through Congress during the 1960s, legislation that changed Alaska forever.

It wasn’t an easy time to be a Native in politics, or a woman.

“The men had the voice. They were out front, and they were the speakers,” Irene Rowan said. “But somehow, Marlene became a voice among all those men. I often wondered, how did she do it?”

Back then, Rowan worked for the federal government and became part of an ANCSA support group called “Alaskans on the Potomac.”

As a woman trying to navigate a male-dominated world, Johnson was an inspiration, said Rowan. “She was royalty. People looked up to her. She was rich. She was rich with knowledge and with enthusiasm,” she said.

Rosita Worl, another up-and-coming Lingít leader in those days, also learned from Johnson.

“She exemplified what we know and recognize as a leader, and they don’t come along very often,” Worl said, maybe once in a lifetime.

“I don’t think people thought of her as a woman or a man. They just admired her leadership capabilities,” Worl said.

Breaking barriers

Vera Starbard says she marvels at how her grandmother was able to break through gender and race barriers.

“She always insisted on being taken seriously,” Starbard said, “but at the same time, she had to figure out how to maneuver in that world, let her voice be heard, when literally some people would not hear it.”

Starbard says people forget that Johnson was a single mom, who not only raised six kids, but was also a businesswoman. She co-owned a regional air taxi service in her home village of Hoonah and became one of the first women to lead a Native corporation. For more than a decade, she served on the Sealaska board. Johnson also helped to found many of the educational organizations and non-profits that make up today’s social service safety net.

A 2009 interview with Dr. Thomas Thornton, an ethnologist at Sealaska Heritage Institute, offers clues about the source of Johnson’s passion for public service. Johnson told him about the racism she encountered in Juneau, where her family moved in the late 1940’s so she could attend high school.

“I shouldn’t confess doing anything wrong in my life,” Johnson laughed, as she described an ongoing late-night mission that she and her girlfriends carried out.

“A few of us that were considered “Breeds” would go down the street and rip the signs off the bars, and there were bars all up and down South Franklin Street that aren’t there now, that said ‘No Coasties. No Indians. No dogs allowed.'”

She said Coasties was slang for Coast Guard members, who had a reputation for getting into fights—and like Natives and dogs, were unwelcome.

The path to power

Somewhere along the line, Johnson evolved from an activist into a statesman, and Native corporations, with their growing wealth and resources, became a vehicle for change.

“Without ANCSA, we would be back where we were in the early ’60s, where discrimination would still be here? I am a firm believer of that,” Johnson said.

Emil Notti, the first president of the Alaska Federation of Natives, the main group which led the land claims fight, said Johnson overcame the chauvinism of the day through her hard work and understanding of the issues.

“She stood on her own, her qualifications,” Notti said. “She wasn’t put there because she was a woman. She was put there because she was an effective advocate.”

Notti says Johnson worked well with different factions of Alaska Natives, who resisted compromise, a role pivotal to the passage of ANCSA. Notti believes her experience with the Alaska Native Brotherhood honed her skills as trusted and persuasive negotiator.

Tireless advocacy

Over the years, Notti said, he watched her sphere of influence continue to grow.

In a 2011 interview with the late journalist Nellie Moore, Johnson mapped out how Alaska Natives could become agents of change.

“Alaska Natives, I don’t care where you’re from, need to be involved. They need to sit on boards. They need to sit on commissions,” she said. “The Alaska Native perspective needs to be heard, that we aren’t sitting on a stump doing nothing — that we are just like everybody else,” Johnson said. “We have a brain, and we use it. We have muscles and we use it. And we have respect for each other, and we don’t call other people names like they sometimes call us.”

Not long before Johnson died, Notti and Willie Hensley, another leader in the claims fight, visited Johnson in Juneau. Notti said, when he realized her time was almost over, he felt a wave of loneliness — because there are only about a dozen people still alive who really know the story of ANCSA.

“There are 500 stories. Everybody who was involved has a story. You look at the same event, see it different. You get all kinds of stories. But in there, somewhere, is what really happened,” Notti said. Now there is one less voice in the ANCSA band of warriors.

Notti says every momentous historical event spawns a “greatest generation,” and ANCSA was one of those that brought out the best in Alaska Natives, who accomplished what many believed was impossible.

As the Northern Lights danced, Marlene Johnson departed

And for Rosita Worl, Marlene Johnson was one of those who rose to the occasion and became a force to be reckoned with.

“The night before she left us, we had just spectacular Northern Lights. That said to me, those are our warriors, ready to embrace this leader in the spirit world.”

But for her family, Johnson’s exit was more down-to-earth. Vera Starbard says her grandmother, in her last days, was telling jokes — bad ones at that. “And she said, ‘Boy I better talk more. Those will be my last words,” Starbard said. “She was very aware of what was happening and still going to make a joke out of it.”

When everybody laughed, Starbard was reminded that it was Johnson’s keen sense of humor that was her secret weapon in life. It disarmed her opponents and endeared her supporters.

“It was a mass of privilege being Marlene Johnson’s granddaughter,” she said, “but I miss the woman who made wild strawberry jam really well.” “