Personal Narrative: My First Alaskan Conservationist

Where exactly did it all start? I never meant to be an environmentalist and conservationist. But I guess life has a funny way of telling you things. When Ginny and I think back to our pasts and what really sparked in us to protect Alaska, we agreed it all probably started during World War II. We were both in a piloting program in the war called WASP, or Women’s Air Force Service Pilots. Being part of the Women’s Air Force Service Pilots, Ginny and I would charter military planes across the United States (Wood and Brewster). If it were not for the military’s strict rules, we might never have taken an interest in Alaska at all. The military did not allow women to fly planes past Montana (Wood and Brewster). Any time the men took over afterwards

We dedicated ourselves to becoming true Alaskan conservationists after meeting with out-of-state biologists who wished to protect a large chunk of the state (Wood and Brewster). Instantly fascinated with these people, Ginny and I probed for more information. We talked for many long days, and in that time a resolve began building in me. I’d seen the beauty of Alaska. I was not going to let anyone take that away. The biologists, Ginny, and I tried to tell the Alaskan delegation that they were being careless with their resources, but the delegation became angry at “outsiders” telling them how to manage their resources (Wood and Brewster). If I had shrugged my shoulders and retreated back into obscurity at that moment, my life would never have taken the course it did. But for Ginny and me, it was not so. We created the Alaska Conservation Society in 1960 when we failed to make the Alaskan delegation listen to us (Wood and Brewster). President Eisenhower listened to us, though, and created the Wildlife Range to help the ACS (Wood and Brewster). Our enormous progress in such a short amount of time was exciting. We were on a very good track if we could get the president of the United States to notice us. Eventually, our ACS would morph into the much bigger, widely-known Alaska Conservation Foundation (“Celia Hunter”). From then on, fate helped us fight Rampart Dam,

Ginny and I created and passed the 1980 Alaska National Interest Land Conservation Act, which protected 100 million acres of federal Alaskan land (“Celia Hunter”). The act expanded national park systems by over forty three million acres (“Celia Hunter”). Ten new national parks were also created (“Celia Hunter”). In my mind’s eye, I always see the rustic Alaskan wilderness as it was when Ginny and I first flew planes over it. I never want that to change, because some things should be forever. I have been personally awarded the John Muir Award in 1991 for a lifetime of devoted conservation work and illustrious record of environmental achievements, and the 1998 Robert Marshall Award for conservation efforts and the promotion of an American land ethic (“Celia Hunter”). Perhaps someday enough people will conscientiously help the planet like I did, so that an award is not needed to be given out for simple acts that everyone should already do. Ginny and I both received the ACF’s first Lifetime Achievement Award as well (“Celia Hunter”). Right up until my death, I wanted to convey a message for everyone who would lend an ear. When asked about what I was leaving behind, I didn’t have to think very hard about what I wanted to say. I let my heart speak for me. To a young interviewer I said, “I think what I’d like to leave with people your age is the idea that change is possible, but you’re going to have to put