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The seismic event that shook Alaska for nearly five minutes on March 27, 1964, remains the strongest seismic occurrence documented in U.S. history. It recorded a magnitude of 9.2 on the Richter scale, and prompted a tsunami that affected individuals as far south as California. Additionally, the earthquake transformed the landscape surrounding its epicenter near Prince William Sound.

Currently, investigators from the University of Washington, led by Kendall Valentine, an assistant professor of oceanography at UW, alongside the University of Rhode Island and the Desert Research Institute, are making their way to Anchorage and the Copper River Delta to examine marshes that developed in the years following the quake. Few geomorphologists have explored this region, and there has been no comparative study of Alaskan marshes with those found in more temperate zones. The ecological consequences are vital for local fauna and Alaskan communities.

Valentine has led similar interdisciplinary endeavors at the Willapa salt marsh in Washington with the aim of comprehending how the ecosystem is evolving due to climate change. In Alaska, she will co-lead a team of five early-career researchers, documenting their expedition through video and photographs.

Valentine elaborated on her work in response to a few queries for the series “In the Field,” which showcases UW’s field initiatives.

Share details about the expedition. What locations are you visiting and for what purpose?

Kendall Valentine: We are traveling to two key regions – Anchorage and the Copper River Delta – to study salt marsh morphodynamics, essentially examining changes at a landscape level. We aim to understand the coastal developments that occur post-large seismic events.

The 1964 Alaska earthquake elevated the mudflats by several meters, creating an environment conducive to marsh vegetation that previously did not exist. Marshes quickly formed, and rough estimates suggest that one to three meters of marsh sediments have built up in these areas since. Our comprehension of how marshes develop and operate is primarily based on slow-moving landscapes along passive margins, or regions that are not earthquake-prone. By investigating these sites in Alaska, we hope to redefine our understanding of marsh dynamics.

The Copper River Delta stands as one of the largest deltas in North America, yet it remains significantly under-researched. Deltas are formed when rapidly moving water, like rivers, encounters slower bodies of water, such as oceans. The mixing of fresh water, saltwater, and mud creates a vibrant environment and distinct habitats. Additionally, as the mud settles, it captures carbon.

What information do you and your team aspire to gather?

KV: High-latitude wetlands such as these are undergoing swift changes due to rising sea levels, thawing permafrost, and shifts in seasonal ice coverage. Erosion rates are on the rise, affecting both the landscape and carbon sequestration rates. These wetlands play a crucial role in sustaining wildlife, protecting coastlines, trapping pollutants, managing nutrient distribution, and storing carbon, yet there is a significant gap in knowledge regarding their geomorphology and ecology. We are pioneering the examination of seasonally thawed, tectonically active marshes. Researchers have noted a “startling lack of information” about shorelines at high latitudes, despite their prevalence. Often located in remote areas, these sites are challenging to reach, the working conditions can be severe, and there are few nearby urban centers. We will utilize an airboat to access distant locales to gather core samples and assess carbon storage, sediment accumulation rates, and more.

We propose that carbon storage in high-latitude Alaskan marshes is influenced by tectonic history, and we will investigate local carbon dynamics while documenting any changes in plant populations and marsh geography. Alterations to the marsh could pose risks to infrastructure, coastal communities, and cultural practices, costing the state billions in upkeep and repairs.

Who else is accompanying you?

KV: I will be joined by Kendall Fontenot, a postgraduate in my oceanography lab at UW; Erin Peck, an assistant professor in oceanography at the University of Rhode Island; Emily Hall, a postgraduate from Erin Peck’s lab; and Sophia Wensman, a postdoctoral researcher associated with the Desert Research Institute. My part of this endeavor is funded by the Quaternary Research Center at UW.

We will also engage in fieldwork alongside local collaborators. Ryan Choi, a vegetation and wetland ecologist from the Alaska Center for Conservation Science at the University of Alaska Anchorage, will be part of our team and has been immensely supportive. He will be investigating beaver influences at the same sites.

Furthermore, we are collaborating with the U.S. Forest Service at Chugach National Forest, which will provide field assistance (such as boats and bear protection) for our work in the Copper River Delta.

What aspects of fieldwork do you find enjoyable that others might overlook?

KV: The aspect I cherish most about fieldwork is the connection with the landscape. Marshes are notably flat and expansive. When immersed in one, especially those in Alaska – or other locations I’ve explored, such as Louisiana – one gains a profound sense of human diminutiveness in the grand scheme of the Earth.

I adore the sound of the mud squelching beneath my feet and the sulfurous scent it emits. I typically wear scuba booties as my field footwear whenever it is prudent, allowing me to truly feel the ground beneath me. There is so much experiential knowledge to be gathered about the marsh that is often eluded by discrete sampling and computational modeling.

Have you encountered any surprising or enlightening experiences in fieldwork generally?

KV: Another dimension of fieldwork that has shifted my perspective on science is engaging with the individuals inhabiting these landscapes. I have worked along the Atlantic, Gulf, and Pacific coastlines of the U.S., where each landscape possesses distinct characteristics, as do the local challenges and personalities. Despite these differences, communities often share a sense of kinship.

They contend with similar issues and depend on their bonds with the land – from Cajuns in Louisiana to oyster cultivators in Willapa, to Indigenous groups in Bristol Bay. Since their lives are intrinsically linked to the land, local individuals impart insights about their environments that I could never derive from purely analyzing scientific literature or samples. Being present in the field and able to listen to the land’s custodians enhances my appreciation for the data we gather, provides motivation for pursuing science, and grants a deeper understanding of the processes that have shaped it.

For further inquiries, reach out to Kendall Valentine at [email protected]

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