I’ll describe two bizarre Alaska incidents — a raven that knocked out an entire town’s power and a humpback whale that sank a family’s anchored boat — and I’ll add a quick, skeptical take on a recent Seattle trip. The tone is direct and grounded in common-sense observations about city life and Alaska’s wild unpredictability, and I preserve the exact quoted material from utility and eyewitness accounts.
We just returned from a short trip to Seattle for a medical appointment, and the city left me colder than usual. It feels more crowded and rougher than in past years, and locals told me they see more homeless encampments than before. I’m frankly unsurprised; a lot of cities slide downhill when leadership ignores basic order and public safety.
Back home in Alaska, the kind of thing you only see here happened: a raven apparently struck equipment and knocked out power to an entire town. Chugach Electric reported that by 8 a.m. a power outage was impacting nearly 1,900 people in Girdwood, and power wasn’t restored until about 7:45 p.m. The utility spelled out the chain of damage that followed a single, unlucky collision.
“Chugach Electric posted on social media that by 8 a.m. Friday morning, a power outage was impacting the entire town of Girdwood, nearly 1,900 people.” That line alone captures how a small natural event cascaded into a major community disruption. The company explained that the wiring between a transformer and the substation and the circuit switcher supplying the substation were damaged, prompting a long repair job.
“According to Chugach Electric, power was restored at around 7:45 p.m.” Utilities crews worked until the evening to get the town back online, which shows how vulnerable remote systems can be when a single component goes down. Rural Alaska depends on a handful of critical points; when one fails, it can ripple through an entire community.
“The damage was caused by a raven. According to Chugach Electric, the wiring between the transformer and the Girdwood substation, and the circuit switcher that supplies the substation, was damaged. The crew will continue repairs until power is restored.” The language from the utility is clinical, but the image is striking: a raven flying into a transformer and touching control wiring.
“Julie Hasquet, communications manager at Chugach Electric, told Alaska’s News Source the bird flew directly into the transformer, setting off a chain reaction of damage.” Utilities are used to squirrels or birds causing small blips, but this event was worse. The crew noted a cascading series of failures that went into the substation’s control room, which is unusual and costly to fix.
“What happened this morning is a raven flew into the transformer in Girdwood. It contacted the transformer,” Hasquet said. “It caused some damage to the control wiring to the transformer, basically a cascading series of damage. It went into the Girdwood substation control room and the circuit switcher, which actually supplies the substation.” Those exact words explain how a single contact point can escalate when multiple systems are tied together without adequate isolation.
The raven likely didn’t survive. “As for the raven, Hasquet said the outcome was likely fatal. ‘Most of the small animals will die immediately upon contacting live electric wires,’ she said.” It’s a grim detail, but it underscores how deadly high-voltage equipment is to wildlife. Whether the bird was recovered wasn’t clear, but the human impact — an entire town without power for nearly 12 hours — is plain.
Then there’s an even wilder Alaska story: a humpback whale apparently smashed into an anchored sailboat in Glacier Bay and sank it. The Lewis family woke to a “giant thud” and the boat suddenly foundered, despite being at anchor and familiar with local waters. It’s the kind of improbable event that turns into a headline and a lifetime of storytelling.
“My husband and I were asleep in our sailboat anchored in Glacier Bay, and our 23-year-old kid who was with us on the trip was awake reading and heard a giant thud, and then the boat just sank,” Tania Lewis told Alaska’s News Source. Lewis works as a wildlife biologist for Glacier Bay National Park, though not with marine species, and she stressed that they know the area well.
“Lewis is no stranger to Alaska. In fact, she works as a wildlife biologist for Glacier Bay National Park, but not marine wildlife, she was quick to point out.” Even seasoned locals can be blindsided by raw size; whales are not generally aggressive, but they are massive enough to cause catastrophic damage without intent. A close encounter at night can easily turn dangerous.
“There have been a couple of close calls in Glacier Bay that I just learned about with whales hitting boats in the night, but they never sank them or did major damage,” Lewis said. The family was lucky to escape serious injury, and their story is a reminder that Alaska’s beauty comes paired with real hazards you don’t face in cities.
Quick aside on Seattle: urban decay and disorder are not just inconveniences; they carry real costs in quality of life and public safety. For those of us who prefer order and accountability, seeing cities drift the other way makes leaving them early a relief.
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