SEWARD PENINSULA — Ducks and swans flew overhead as Sylvester Ayek, 82, and his daughter Kimberly, 35, hauled rocks to anchor their small salmon net on the bank of a deep, tidal channel — 25 miles inland from the open Bering Sea coast. 

Nearby on that July day, Mary Jane Litchard, Ayek’s partner, picked wild celery and set out a lunch of past subsistence harvests: a blue-shelled seabird egg, dried beluga whale meat and red salmon dipped in seal oil.

Then, as they waited for fish to fill the net, the family motored Ayek’s skiff up the channel, known as the Tuksuk, spotting birds and seals and passing family fish camps where drying salmon hung on racks. Soon, the steep channel walls gave way to a huge, saltwater lake: the Imuruk Basin, flanked by the snow-dotted peaks of the Kigluaik Mountains. 

Ayek describes the basin as a “traditional hunting and gathering place” for the local Iñupiat, who have long sustained themselves on the area’s bounty of fish, berries and wildlife.

Sylvester Ayek, an Iñupiaq subsistence hunter, fisherman and sculptor, prepares to set his salmon net off the bank of the Tuksuk Channel on the Seward Peninsula. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

On a day trip subsistence fishing in the Tuksuk Channel, Mary Jane Litchard, 72, holds up a part of her family’s lunch: a hard-boiled murre egg. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

But despite a long Indigenous history, and a brief settler boom during the Gold Rush more than a century ago, a couple of weather-beaten cabins were the only obvious signs of human impact as Ayek’s boat idled — save for a set of tiny, beige specks at the foot of the mountains.

Those specks were a camp run by a Canadian exploration company, Graphite One. And they marked the prospective site of a mile-wide open pit mine that could reach deep below the tundra — into the largest known deposit of graphite in the U.S.

The mine could help power America’s electric vehicle revolution, and it’s drawing enthusiastic support from powerful government officials in both Alaska and Washington, D.C. That includes the Biden administration, which recently announced up to $37.5 million in subsidies for Graphite One through the U.S. Department of Defense. 

So far, the announcements from the project’s politically connected boosters have received far more attention than the several hundred Alaskans whose lives would be affected directly by Graphite One’s mine. 

While opinions in the nearby Alaska Native villages of Brevig Mission and Teller are mixed, there are significant pockets of opposition, particularly among the area’s tribal leaders. Many residents worry the project will harm the subsistence harvests that make life possible in a place where the nearest well-stocked grocery store is a two-hour drive away, in Nome.

Kimberly Ayek picks a salmon from her family’s net in the shallows of the Tuksuk Channel. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

“The further they go with the mine, our subsistence will just move further and further away from us,” Gilbert Tocktoo, president of Brevig Mission’s tribal government, said over a dinner of boiled salmon at his home. “And sooner or later, it’s going to become a question of: Do I want to live here anymore?”

Despite those concerns, Graphite One is gathering local support: Earlier this month, the board of the region’s Indigenous-owned, for-profit corporation unanimously endorsed the project. 

The Nome-based corporation, Bering Straits Native Corp., also agreed to invest $2 million in Graphite One, in return for commitments related to jobs and scholarships for shareholders.

The tensions surrounding Graphite One’s project underscore how the rush to bolster domestic manufacturing of electric vehicles threatens a new round of disruption to tribal communities and landscapes that have already borne huge costs from past mining booms.

Sylvester Ayek points toward the Kigluaik Mountains and the site of the Graphite One exploration project as his skiff bobs in the Imuruk Basin. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

Sylvester Ayek and his daughter Kimberly set their gill net in the Tuksuk Channel. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

Across the American West, companies are vying to extract the minerals needed to power electric vehicles and other green technologies. Proposed mines for lithium, antimony and copper are chasing some of the same generous federal tax credits as Graphite One — and some are advancing in spite of objections from Indigenous people who have already seen their lands taken and resources diminished over more than a century of mining.

The Seward Peninsula’s history is a case in point: Thousands of non-Native prospectors came here during the Gold Rush, which began in 1898. The era brought devastating bouts of pandemic disease and displacement for the Iñupiat, and today, that history weighs on some as they consider how Graphite One could affect their lives. 

Taluvaaq Qiñuġana, pictured in her home village of Brevig Mission, is opposed to Graphite One’s proposed mining project. The open pit mine would be built in the area of her family’s traditional subsistence harvesting grounds. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

“A lot of people like to say that our culture is lost. But we didn’t just go out there and lose it: It was taken from us,” said Taluvaaq Qiñuġana, a 24-year-old Iñupiaq resident of Brevig Mission. A new mining project in her people’s traditional harvesting grounds, she said, “feels like continuous colonization.”

But other Indigenous residents of Brevig Mission and Teller say the villages would benefit from well-paying jobs that could come with the mine. Cash income could help people sustain their households in the two communities, where full-time work is otherwise scarce. 

Graphite One executives say one of their highest priorities, as they advance their project toward permitting and construction, is protecting village residents’ harvests of fish, wildlife and berries. They say they fully appreciate the essential nature of that food supply.

“This is very real to them,” said Mike Schaffner, Graphite One’s senior vice president of mining. “We completely understand that we can’t come in there and hurt the subsistence, and we can’t hurt how their lifestyle is.”

The Iñupiaq residents of the village of Brevig Mission depend on subsistence harvests of fish, wildlife and berries. Some fear a planned graphite mine nearby could interfere with their way of life. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

U.S. produces no domestic graphite

Graphite is simply carbon — like a diamond but far softer, because of its different crystal structure. Graphite is used as a lubricant, in industrial steelmaking, for brake linings in automobiles and as pencil lead.

It’s also a key component of the high-powered lithium batteries that propel electric cars. 

Once mined and concentrated, graphite is processed into a powder that’s mixed with a binder, then rolled flat and curled into the hundreds of AA-battery-sized cylinders that make up the battery pack.

America hasn’t mined any graphite in decades, having been undercut by countries where it’s extracted at a lower cost.

China currently produces more than half of the world’s mined graphite and nearly all of the highly processed type needed for batteries. The country so dominates the supply chain that global prices typically rise each winter when cold temperatures force a single region, Heilongjiang, to shut down production, said Tony Alderson, an analyst at a price tracking firm called Benchmark Mineral Intelligence.

Some forecasts say graphite demand, driven by growth in electric vehicles, could rise 25-fold by 2040. Amid growing U.S.-China political tensions, supply chain experts have warned about the need to diversify America’s sources of graphite. 

Last year’s climate-focused Inflation Reduction Act, written in part to wrest control of electric vehicle manufacturing from China, is accelerating that search.

For new electric cars to qualify for a $3,750 tax credit under the act, at least 40% of the value of the “critical minerals” that go into their batteries must be extracted or processed domestically, or in countries such as Canada or Mexico that have free-trade agreements with the United States. 

That fraction rises to 80% in four years.

Graphite One is one of just three companies currently advancing graphite mining projects in the United States, according to the U.S. Geological Survey. And company officials are already marketing their graphite to global electric vehicle makers.

But when they presented their preliminary plans to Tesla, “they said, ‘That’s great, we are interested in buying them, but we would need to write 40 contracts of this size to meet our need,’” Schaffner, the Graphite One vice president, said at a community meeting this year, according to the Nome Nugget. 

In response, Graphite One is now studying a mine that could be substantially larger than its original proposal.

The Tuksuk Channel, which reaches inland to the Imuruk Basin and its surrounding tundra, is a vital area for harvests by residents of the nearby Iñupiaq villages of Brevig Mission and Teller. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

It’s too early to know how, exactly, the mine’s construction could affect the surrounding watershed. One reason is that the level of risk it poses is linked to its size, and Graphite One has not yet determined how big its project will be.

While graphite itself is nontoxic and inert, the company also hasn’t finished studying the acid-generating potential of the rock that its mine could expose — another key indicator of the project’s level of risk. Stronger acid is more likely to release toxic metals into water that Graphite One would have to contain and treat before releasing back into the environment.

One fish biologist in the region has also said he fears the mine’s construction could negatively affect streams flowing out of the Kigluaik Mountains, though Graphite One officials disagree. The streams’ cool water, according to Charlie Lean, keeps temperatures in the shallow Imuruk Basin low enough to sustain spawning salmon — a critical source of abundant, healthy food for Brevig Mission and Teller residents.

Graphite One plans to store its waste rock and depleted ore in what’s known as a “dry stack,” on top of the ground — rather than in a pond behind a dam, a common industry practice that can risk a major breach if the dam fails. 

But experts say smaller-scale spills or leaks from the mine could still drain into the basin and harm fish and wildlife.

“There is always a possibility for some sort of catastrophic failure. But that doesn’t happen very often,” said Dave Chambers, president of the nonprofit Center for Science in Public Participation, which advises advocacy and tribal groups across the country on mining and water quality. “There’s also a possibility there will be no impact. That doesn’t happen very often, either.”

Anthony Huston, Graphite One’s chief executive, said his project will incorporate local knowledge and protect residents’ subsistence harvests.

“We are completely focused on making sure that we create a stronger economy, and the entire Bering Straits region, and all of Alaska, for that matter. And that’s something that this project will bring,” he said in an interview. “But it will never bring it at the expense of the traditional lifestyle of Alaska Native people.

Freshly cut salmon dries on beach racks in Teller, a traditional Iñupiaq village on Western Alaska’s Seward Peninsula. Salmon are an essential food source for Teller residents, who otherwise must drive 70 miles on a gravel road to reach affordably priced groceries. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

Alfred Kakoona, 45, cuts up his morning’s catch of fresh salmon, a staple food for the Indigenous peoples of the Seward Peninsula, on the beach at Brevig Mission. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

A way of life at stake 

There are no Teslas in Brevig Mission or Teller, the two Alaska Native villages closest to the proposed mine. 

To get to the communities from the nearest American Tesla dealership, you’d first board a jet in Seattle. Then, you’d fly 1,400 miles to Anchorage, where you’d climb on to another jet and fly 500 more miles northwest to Nome, the former Gold Rush town known as the finish line of the Iditarod sled dog race.

A 70-mile gravel road winds northwest through tundra and mountains before dipping back down to a narrow spit on the Bering Sea coast. The road ends in Teller, population 235, where most residents lack in-home plumbing — let alone own electric cars.

If you need a bathroom here, you’ll use what’s known as a honey bucket.

Brevig Mission, population 435, is even more remote than Teller. It sits across a narrow strait and is accessible only by boat or plane.

(Map by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

The region’s Indigenous history is memorialized in the 1973 book “People of Kauwerak,” written by local elder William Oquilluk. It documents the founding of Kauwerak, an Iñupiaq village by a sandbar near the Imuruk Basin’s innermost reaches.

The area was chosen, according to the book, for the same reasons it’s treasured now: abundant fish and birds, berries and moose, even beluga whales. Kauwerak became one of the Seward Peninsula’s largest villages before it was abandoned in the 19th century, as residents left for jobs and schools.

Whalers, then gold miners, brought profound changes to the Indigenous way of life on the Seward Peninsula, especially through the introduction of pandemic diseases. One outbreak of measles and flu, in 1900, is thought to have killed up to one-third of residents in one of the region’s villages. In Brevig Mission, 72 of 80 Native residents died from the 1918 Spanish flu.

Today, the miners and whalers are gone. In Teller, the population of 250 is 99% Alaska Native. 

Four in 10 residents there live below the poverty level, and a typical household, with an average of three people, survives on just $32,000 a year, according to census data.

At the community’s main store, the shelves are completely barren of fresh fruits and vegetables. A box of Corn Chex costs $9.55, and a bottle of Coffee-Mate runs $11.85 — more than twice the Anchorage price. 

Residents can buy cheaper groceries in Nome. But gas for the 70-mile drive costs $6.30 a gallon, down from $7 in July.

The main store in Teller lacks fresh produce and charges steep prices for groceries, making subsistence harvests particularly essential for the village’s Iñupiaq residents. (Photo by Nathaniel Herz/Northern Journal)

The high cost of goods combined with the few available jobs helps explain why some Teller and Brevig Mission residents are open to Graphite One’s planned mine, and the cash income it could generate. 

As Ayek, the 82-year-old subsistence fisherman, pulled his skiff back into Teller with a cooler of fish, another man was slicing fresh sides of salmon a little ways down the beach.

Nick Topkok, 56, has worked as a contractor for Graphite One, taking workers out in his boat. As he hung his fish to dry on a wood rack, he said few people in the area can find steady jobs.

“The rest are living off welfare,” Topkok said. The mine, he said, would generate money for decades, and it also might help get the village water and sewer systems.

“I’ll be dead by then, but it’ll impact my kids, financially,” he said. “If it’s good and clean, so be it.”

Topkok also acknowledged, however, that a catastrophic accident would “impact us all.”

Many village residents’ summer fishing camps sit along the Tuksuk Channel, below the mine site. Harvests from the basin and its surroundings feed families in Brevig Mission and Teller year-round.

“It’s my freezer,” said Dolly Kugzruk, president of Teller’s tribal government and an opponent of the mine.

Researchers have found all five species of Pacific salmon in and around the Imuruk Basin. Harvests in the area have hit 20,000 fish in some years — roughly 30 per fishing family, according to state data.

At a legislative hearing several years ago on a proposal to support Graphite One’s project, one Teller resident, Tanya Ablowaluk, neatly summed up opponents’ fears: “Will the state keep our freezers full in the event of a spill?”

Some 30 miles outside Nome, supplies for Graphite One’s remote mining exploration camp wait at a staging area the company uses for its helicopters. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

Gold Rush prospector’s descendants would reap royalties

Elsewhere in rural Alaska, Indigenous people have consented to resource extraction on their ancestral lands on the basis of compromise: They accept environmental risks in exchange for a direct stake in the profits.

Two hundred miles north of the Imuruk Basin, zinc and lead unearthed at Red Dog Mine have generated more than $1 billion in royalties for local Native residents and their descendants, including $172 million last year. On the North Slope, the regional Iñupiat-owned corporation receives oil worth tens of millions of dollars a year from developments on its traditional land.

The new Manh Choh mine in Alaska’s Interior will also pay royalties to Native landowners, as would the proposed Donlin mine in Southwest Alaska.

No such royalties would go to the Iñupiaq residents of Brevig Mission and Teller, based on the way Graphite One’s project is currently structured.

The proposed mine sits exclusively on state land. And Graphite One would pay royalties to the descendants of a Gold Rush-era prospector — a legacy of the not-so-distant American past when white settlers could freely claim land and resources that had been used for thousands of years by Indigenous people.

Nicholas Tweet was a 23-year-old fortune seeker when he left Minnesota for Alaska in the late 1800s. His quest for gold, over several years, took him hiking over mountain ranges, floating down the Yukon River by steamboat, walking hundreds miles across beaches and, finally, rowing more than 100 miles from Nome in a boat he built himself.

Tweet settled in Teller with his family, initially prospecting for gold. 

As graphite demand spiked during World War I, Tweet staked claims along the Kigluaik Mountains, and he worked with a company that shipped the mineral to San Francisco until the war ended and demand dried up. 

Today, Tweet’s descendants are still in the mining business on the Seward Peninsula. And they still controlled graphite claims in the area a little more than a decade ago. That’s when Huston, a Vancouver entrepreneur, was drawn into the global graphite trade through his interest in Tesla and his own graphite-based golf clubs.

News of a possible deal with Huston’s company arrived at one of the Tweets’ remote mining operations via a note dropped by a bush plane. They reached an agreement after months of discussions — sometimes, according to Huston, with 16 relatives in the room.

So far, the Tweet family, whose members did not respond to requests for comment, has received $370,000 in lease fees. If the project is built, the family would receive additional payments tied to the value of graphite mined by Graphite One, and members could ultimately collect millions of dollars.

Bering Straits Native Corp., owned by more than 8,000 Indigenous shareholders with ties to the region, recently acquired a stake in Graphite One’s project — but only by buying its way in. 

The company announced its $2 million investment this month. The deal includes commitments by Graphite One to support scholarships, hire Bering Straits’ shareholders and give opportunities to the Native-owned corporation’s subsidiary companies, according to Dan Graham, Bering Straits’ interim chief executive. He declined to release details, saying they have not yet been finalized.

As it considered the investment, Bering Straits board members held meetings with Brevig Mission and Teller residents, where they heard “a lot of concerns,” Graham said. Those concerns “were very well thought through at the board level” before the corporation offered its support for the project, he added.

“Graphite One is very committed to employing local workers from those villages, to being as transparent as possible on what the development is,” Graham said.

Graphite One officials say they have work to do to ensure the region’s residents are trained for mining jobs in time for the start of construction. The company had a maximum of 71 people working at its camp this summer, but Graphite One and its contractors hired just eight people from Teller and Brevig Mission. Sixteen more were from Nome and other villages in the region, according to Graphite One.

Company officials say they have no choice but to develop a local workforce. Because of graphite’s relatively low value in raw form, compared to gold or copper, they say the company can’t afford to fly workers in from outside the region.

Graphite One says it’s also taking direction from members of a committee of local residents it’s appointed to provide advice on environmental issues. In response to the committee’s feedback, the company chose not to barge its fuel through the Imuruk Basin earlier this year; instead, it flew it in, at an added cost of $4 a gallon.

Since Graphite One acquired the Tweets’ graphite claims, progress on the development has been slow. But now, escalating tensions with China and the national push to Americanize the electric vehicle supply chain are putting Huston’s project on the political fast track.

In Nome, U.S. Sen. Lisa Murkowski walks away from a helicopter that flew her to the Graphite One project, a mining exploration camp that the Canadian company is developing to build an open pit graphite mine. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

‘We don’t have a choice.’

U.S. Sen. Lisa Murkowski, R-Alaska, stands in the Nome airport, holding a bag with chunks of graphite she received at Graphite One’s exploration project. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

In July, U.S. Sen. Lisa Murkowski boarded a helicopter in Nome and flew to Graphite One’s remote exploration camp overlooking the Imuruk Basin.

A few days later, the Alaska Republican stood on the Senate floor and brandished what she described as a hunk of graphite from an “absolutely massive,” world-class deposit.

“After my site visit there on Saturday, I’m convinced that this is a project that every one of us — those of us here in the Congress, the Biden administration — all of us need to support,” she said. “This project will give us a significant domestic supply, breaking our wholesale dependence on imports.”

U.S. Sen. Dan Sullivan, R-Alaska, U.S. Rep. Mary Peltola, D-Alaska, and GOP Gov. Mike Dunleavy have all expressed support for the project.

Graphite One has enlisted consultants and lobbyists to advance its interests, according to disclosure filings and emails obtained through public records requests.

They include Clark Penney, an Anchorage-based consultant and financial advisor with ties to the Dunleavy administration, and Nate Adams, a former employee of Murkowski and Sullivan who’s worked as a lobbyist in Washington, D.C.

Murkowski has said the mine will reduce dependence on foreign countries that lack America’s environmental and human rights safeguards.

“Security of supply would be assured from day one, and the standards for the mine’s development and operation would be both exceedingly high and fully transparent,” Murkowski wrote in a letter to the Biden administration in 2022.

The Defense Department, meanwhile, announced its grant of up to $37.5 million for Graphite One in July. This month, the company also announced it had received a $4.7 million Defense Department contract to develop a graphite-based firefighting foam. 

In a statement, a department spokesman said the July agreement “aims to strengthen the domestic industrial base to make a secure, U.S.-based supply of graphite available for both Department of Defense and consumer markets.”

In Teller and Brevig Mission, Graphite One’s opponents have noticed how the electrical vehicle transition seems to be driving interest in the mine planned for nearby. 

Gilbert Tocktoo is the president of the tribal government in Brevig Mission. In an interview at his home, he said he opposes the large graphite mine planned on state land near the Imuruk Basin. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

As the project gathers outside political support, some village residents said that local attitudes have been shifting, too, in response to the company’s offers of jobs and perks. 

Tocktoo, the chief of Brevig Mission’s tribal council, said resistance in his community has diminished as Graphite One “tries to buy their way in.”

The company awards door prizes at meetings and distributes free turkeys, he said. Two years ago, the company gave each household in Brevig Mission and Teller a $50 credit on their electrical bills.

The project, though, remains years away from construction, with production starting no earlier than 2029.

Before it can be built, Graphite One will have to obtain an array of permits, including a major authorization under the federal Clean Water Act that will allow it to do construction around wetlands.

And the project also faces geopolitical and economic uncertainties. 

At least last year, Graphite One was tight on cash. It had to slightly shorten its summer exploration season because it didn’t have the money to finish it, company officials said at a public meeting this year. 

And while Graphite One is counting on a partnership with a Chinese business to help set up its graphite processing and manufacturing infrastructure, the partner company’s top executive has said publicly that U.S.-China political tensions may thwart the transfer of necessary technologies.

Murkowski, in an interview at the Nome airport on her way home from her visit to Graphite One’s camp, stressed that the project is still in its very early stages. 

The permitting process and the substantial environmental reviews that will accompany it, she added, will give concerned residents a chance to pose questions and raise objections.

“There’s no process right now for the public to weigh in. And it’s all so preliminary,” she said. “When you don’t know, the default position is, ‘I don’t think this should happen.’”

Lucy Oquilluk is president of the tribal government of the Iñupiaq village of Mary’s Igloo. Though the Mary’s Igloo village site near the Imuruk Basin is now abandoned, the area is still important for subsistence fishing, hunting and gathering for local Indigenous descendants, many of whom reside in the nearby community of Teller and maintain their own tribal government. (Photo by Berett Wilber for Northern Journal)

But opponents of the project in Brevig Mission and Teller say they fear their objections won’t be heard. Lucy Oquilluk, head of a Teller-based tribal government, said she feels a sense of inevitability.

“It just feels like we have nothing to say about it. We don’t have a choice,” Oquilluk said. “They’re going to do it anyways, no matter what we say.”

This story was produced by Northern Journal, APM Reports and Alaska Public Media as part of the Public Media Accountability Initiative, which supports investigative reporting at local media outlets around the country.

Nathaniel Herz welcomes tips at [email protected] or (907) 793-0312. This article was originally published in Northern Journal, a newsletter from Herz. Subscribe at this link.

The post A brand new rush arrives on the Seward Peninsula: for graphite, not gold appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

As most of the recent showers pull out of the Bay Area Thursday night, the region is taking a bit of a pause before the next in a series of atmospheric flows hits.

Thousands of people in the Bay Area were still without power as of Friday, and many others were rushing to clean up damage caused by recent flooding and wind.

At the Pink Onion restaurant on 14th Street off Harrison Street in San Francisco, the long-awaited rain break means all hands are on deck, floors are mopped and furniture is dried out.

Meteorologist Kari Hall follows the next storm for the weekend and its effects in the microclimate forecast.

“It’s a race against time,” said Pink Onion contributor Gabriel McCaffrey.

McCaffrey explained that on New Year’s Eve, the restaurant quickly flooded with two feet of water. He said staff quickly stepped in to respond, but the restaurant was still left with broken refrigerators, spoiled food and damaged plumbing. Further rains in the following days didn’t exactly help.

“Because we’re a small business, it’s difficult,” McCaffrey said, noting that the cost of closing the restaurant since New Year’s Eve has been a challenge. The hope is that there will be no rain in this fast lap Pink Onion will be able to reopen for business on Friday due to cleaning work.

“We’re just praying the weather eases up a bit for this whole block,” McCaffrey said, noting that other businesses on 14th Street were also struggling with flooding.

Many other Bay Area residents, businesses, and utilities also ran to repairs Thursday.

In San Francisco, the Public Works Department had employees cleaning up trees that had fallen on 500-foot MUNI lines at Junipero Serra and Sloat.

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Rachel Gordon of @sfpublicworks tells us 500ft of MUNI lines fell when the trees fell. Buses are currently being diverted at Junipero Serra & Sloat in the W. Portal area. @nbcbayarea

— Christine Ni Nijuni (@christineniSF) January 5, 2023

PG&E said it was just deck work for their crews too.

At 10:30 p.m. Thursday, PG&E announced that power outages affected 21,173 customers across the San Francisco Bay Area. Power was restored to tens of thousands of customers throughout the day. The utility reported 80,448 outages across the region as of 4:45 a.m

PG&E spokeswoman Mayra Tostado said the rain break has helped crews restore power more quickly and safely. She explained that the utility currently has more than 3,000 people on site restoring power and repairing damage, including some out-of-town workers from Southern California and Canada. Overall, Tostado said, this storm powered more than 500,000 customers, including 200,000 in the Bay Area.

With most of the recent rain showers drifting out of the Bay Area on Thursday night, San Francisco residents are having a little pause while they clean up before the next in a series of atmospheric flows hits the region. Alyssa Goard reports.

Tostado said one challenge in restoring power had been fallen trees, mudslides and saturated soil, all of which made it difficult for teams to work.

“In some cases, our teams were out restoring power and putting up new poles, and trees fell around them, so we had to pull them out because they’re not safe in those places,” she added.

While drier skies are benefiting PG&E repairs for now, Tostado acknowledged expected storms into next week could potentially keep some customers without power for longer.

“Some customers may experience outages that last longer than 48 hours. In those cases, they’ll receive a credit on their bill,” Tostado said, adding that customers with additional claims for PG&E are encouraged to submit them online for review on a case-by-case basis.

Local officials are advising Bay Area residents to use this lull between storms to gather supplies and prepare for the next gust of wind and rain.

After the San Francisco Public Works ran out of much-demanded free sandbags on Wednesday, the sandbags were back on sale Thursday. Residents can take five sandbags per address. These sandbags are available at the Marin Street and Kansas Street gate while supplies last.

Pallets of sandbags are available for pickup at the San Francisco Public Works Yard at Kansas Street and Marin Street. January 5, 2023. NBC Bay Area Photo/ Alyssa Goard.

The National Weather Service expects the next atmospheric flow to arrive in the Bay Area late Friday and flooding and other local effects will continue through Tuesday.

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Here are the latest key messages that highlight the series of atmospheric fluxes that will continue to have significant impacts on California over the next week. Significant flooding and dangerous mountain driving will recur Saturday over northern and central California and continue into Tuesday. pic.twitter.com/zC62ajyoR7

– NWS Weather Prediction Center (@NWSWPC) January 5, 2023

The post Bay Space Crews, Residents Rush to Restore Injury – NBC Bay Space appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Entering room 1 in Holbrooke Hotel is like going back in time. The full-size king suite features a restored vintage sofa and chairs, an original marble fireplace with decorative logs, polished hardwood floors, plush carpeting, and contemporary furnishings like a vintage rotary phone—and, in the bathroom, the original one , meticulously restored clawfoot tub. Two pedestal sinks, gold fixtures and a huge king-size bed bring the room somewhat 21st century, as does a huge alfresco veranda overlooking Grass Valley, California’s scenic Main Street. Though many places like to claim this sort of time travel ability, the Holbrooke’s building actually dates back to 1862, so despite its recent renovation, you can still feel the ghosts of the gold rush era rattling through its walls at night.

Just a few miles away, in Nevada City, is the sister property National Stock Exchange has been similarly restored and similarly laden with whispers of the past. While it is rare to find this style of Victorian-era architecture in California, it is by no means impossible. Many of the early West Coast buildings from the 1850s and 1860s were simply destroyed and rebuilt as more modern building techniques became available, but just outside of Sacramento, these two historic hotels were rescued from the abyss and lovingly restored by the Santa Barbara-based company Acme Hospitality.

In the process, these hotels have helped transform the former gold rush towns in which they are based into destinations for those wanting to get away from Sacramento or San Francisco for the weekend, or idyllic getaways for more ambitious SoCal travelers. While grass valley And Nevada city California might not make the list of California hot spots today, but in the 1860s these cities weren’t just booming, they were the center of it all. As many eager immigrants headed west to try their luck in the mines, and the mine owners and other more affluent residents needed infrastructure, a bank and housing, hotels sprang up in the respective towns to meet the needs of each group.

First came the National exchange hotel, a sprawling building that has undergone a thorough renovation over the past three years. The original structure dates back to 1856 and the rooms have been slightly modified to include ensuite bathrooms, the requisite modern plumbing and electricity. Given these limitations, the National Exchange now offers 38 guest rooms, each with a slightly different layout and decor, and many as large suites. As the name suggests, this hotel offered both upscale accommodation and a bank; It was also the local bar, telegraph office, stagecoach stop and post office, as well as a center of gravity for a town that was the most heavily populated of the gold rush camps.

National exchange hotel

Grass Valley nearby was slowly but surely emerging as another hub catering to the workers and actual miners in the area. A few years later the 28 rooms Holbrooke Hotel opened in 1862 to meet the needs of this slightly different but important community in the area. Given their geographic proximity and historical similarity, it made sense to bring the hotels together to tell the story of this overlooked area of ​​Northern California and offer visitors not just one, but two places to stay and enjoy good, strong drinks and world-class food. The entire ground floor of each hotel has been redesigned to serve as a hub for each township.

At Holbrooke, the Golden Gate Salon serves classic cocktails, an extensive wine and beer list, and chef Zachary Arenholtz’s ambitious cured meats, alongside other imaginative dishes like smoked chicken wings, pozole, queso fundido, and a churro and ice cream sandwich for dessert. Down in the basement, the talk bar only on weekends The Iron Door, is a great boozy hangout in a basement room that’s rumored to have been the former brothel. About 10 minutes away, on the National Exchange, is a restaurant called Lola Dining is the anchor of Nevada City’s dining scene. Chef Alan Gosker works in a warm, contemporary American milieu that alludes to his own Irish heritage with dishes like a lamb shank risotto with peas, mint and feta. Regardless, the National Bar is a type of pub that brings the whole community together.

Like the Holbrooke, the spacious suites at the National Exchange have been furnished with antique furniture, all sourced and selected by a design and decorating team consisting of a Director of Design Anne L’EsperanceDoug Washington from Doug Washington designAnd Bri Ingram. This trio also credits “contributions from dozens of local artisans and craftsmen” to bring both local and vintage accents to each of the properties. Both hotels received historic recognition and protection decades ago when the Holbrooke was designated a California State Landmark in 1974 and the National Exchange was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1973. Only in the last three years have these buildings lived up to their status and balance of preservation and modernization, however, sets them apart from both big-box hotels and newer boutique properties.

If you’re in the area for a few days, a few local attractions to explore are the leisurely Buttermilk Bend wildflower hike in South Yuba River State Park and a bevy of bookstores in Nevada City – Harmony Books and Main Street Antiques & books – along with the local cheese shop, Dedrick’s cheese. (It may be in the middle of nowhere, but Dedrick’s carries La Tur, making it civilized in my book). Other local shops Kitkitdizzi And fur trader sell the kind of witchy tchotchkes and stylized Western clothing that would help an outsider to blend in right away, and both do so at prices more reasonable than you’d expect in a resort town.

If you’re flying into or driving up from Sacramento, be sure to stop at Pour Choice Maroon, a local cafe, cafe and taproom in Auburn, another historic town on the way. With a little help from her friend and co-owner, a Michelin-starred chef, Chef Chris BarnumJordan and Melinda Minyard have carved out a little slice of foodie heaven in a city that has little else to offer — but the bright spot of being in a deserted neighborhood has its perks, and if you want to break the journey, this is it the obvious place to refuel.

That’s the highbrow option, of course. The easy option that is more suitable for getting out of town is to go into town Squeeze burgers, a burger joint at a nearby gas station kiosk, and grab a cheese burger with a “cheese skirt” — a ring of toasted cheese surrounding the burger making this farewell even more decadent — plus some onion rings before heading home. Everything is allowed in the north. And it may not be Victorian, but this local fast-food hit is a reminder that Northern California is a destination all of its own. Whether you think you know the area well or not, there’s always something more to discover.

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Hello, I’m Aarika!

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A seemingly endless series of storms devastated preparations for the Pasadena Showcase House of Design, which opened this week.

Each year, volunteer designers transform a large house in a matter of months to raise money for music programs like concerts at Disney Hall for fourth graders, instrumental competitions, and grants for other nonprofit organizations. For this year’s edition, real estate agent Matt McIntyre became the first man to serve as charity chair in the organization’s 75-year history. He notes that among their many challenges was painting the massive colonial-style mansion.

Supply chain delays and difficult weather

“[For] the cover of the show,” he recalls, “the shutters were removed on the day the picture was taken, just in time because it was the only day that week that it didn’t rain. So navigating through all the storms was quite a challenge, but we managed it.”

While the rain slowed preparations indoors, the volunteer designers also struggled with the same supply chain issues that have angered home renovators across the country. McIntyre advises people working on a kitchen or bathroom renovation to order their appliances and plumbing fixtures right away, as their arrival will be further away than they might expect.

About the property and its Indiana Jones type owner.

The 1933 property was designed by Marston & Maybury, one of the most celebrated architectural partnerships in Pasadena at the time.

The original owners were Ruth Stewart and her husband Arthur, a Union Oil executive. Designer Christopher Ward of Rosemary Home Design captures Ruth’s spirit in the artist’s retreat, which he calls the “Wunderkammer” or cabinet of curiosities.

“My research in newspaper archives shows that she was an artist,” says Ward.

“She loved nature, she loved science. She was kind of an Indiana Jones character who loved to learn all his life,” he says. “This room is a tribute to her [and] It also tells the story of part of the history of Pasadena and specifically about a woman who has contributed much through the Women’s League and through her own life, whose story deserves to be told. And so I think a big part of interior design when you’re working with historic homes is being able to articulate that to the public.

The spirit of original resident Ruth Stewart is evoked in this Christopher Ward-designed art and curiosity-filled upstairs room. His centerpiece is a custom-made table designed in the shape of a dragonfly, which he describes as the “Totem of Free Speech”.

(Susanne Welley

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LAist)

In the center of a blue-walled room, surrounded by displays of California art, geodes, fossils and instruments, is a custom-made table designed in the shape of a dragonfly, which Ward calls a “free speech totem.” On the table is a framed photo of a smiling Mrs. Stewart with garlands of flowers, taken on a cruise to Hawaii.

“When she came back from her travels, she started throwing Tahitian-themed parties here at the house,” says Ward. “Pasadena is so full of history, I just couldn’t help but focus on that and make that a part of the story.”

Original resident Ruth Stewart, who died in 1965, is seen in this photo with garlands of flowers during a Hawaiian cruise. She and her oilman husband Arthur raised two daughters in the home.

(Susanne Welley

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LAist)

A room designed by students

At the back of the two-acre Stewart estate is a guest house, the bedroom of which is the showpiece for five interior design students. These include Michelle Halabaso from UCLA and Missa Kato from the Academy of Art University in San Francisco. Halabaso learned of the opportunity through the Pasadena chapter of the American Society of Interior Designers and invited other students she had met at events via email. As Kato notes, they were “essentially total strangers.”

Interior design students Michelle Halabaso (left) and Missa Kato joined three other students who were “essentially strangers” to tackle the guest house bedroom, most of which was furnished via Zoom.

(Susanne Welley

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LAist)

“What was exciting was that we could take our learning outside of the classroom,” says Halabaso. “Normally, the tasks at school are very individual. You can choose the furniture you want. Here we work with real world constraints, a student budget, no supplier partner relationships and sometimes begging for someone to donate or think things that were beautiful but we couldn’t afford to put them in a room.”

Homeowner approval and ever-present time pressures also presented challenges for the students, as did the need to meet via Zoom and rely solely on images on a computer screen to choose what they like. The result is a tranquil retreat in neutral tones and accented by a mobile by artist Monica Wyatt, who uses found objects in her work. It’s made of rusty nails in star patterns and paired mesh screens that resemble tiny Saturns, casting delicate shadows on the white walls.

The guest house bedroom features a mobile by artist Monica Wyatt composed of rusty nails and mesh shower drain covers.

(Susanne Welley

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LAist)

Kato admits there were many difficulties to overcome, “but I think at the end of the day we are very happy with the result. At the same time, we have to keep reminding ourselves that this is our first project… to find out what was possible and how we can make the best of it.”

Rachel Duarte Design Studio’s dining room has nature scenes painted on the walls that originally belonged to the house. They’ve been refreshed with color that makes the birds stand out and hides other, less appetizing, woodland creatures like squirrels.

(Susanne Welley

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LAist)

How to continue

The Pasadena Showcase House of Design is open for public tours through May 21st. Visitors park at the Santa Anita Racetrack in Arcadia and take a shuttle bus to the house on a quiet Pasadena street on the San Marino border. Tickets are required for the house tour but not for the shops and restaurant.

The organization whose volunteers organize the annual event is the Pasadena Showcase House for the Arts. It has supported local music and arts programs since 1948 when it was formed as the Pasadena Junior Philharmonic Committee. His support of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra continues to this day.

Tocco Finale’s living room mixes animal prints with classic art. The 11,000-square-foot mansion was built in 1933 for $13,000, which was quite a sum during the Great Depression. The land was a wedding present from Arthur Stewart’s father.

(Susanne Welley

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LAist)

What questions do you have about Southern California?

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The engineer trying to stabilize the Millennium Tower, a luxury residential skyscraper in San Francisco that is sinking into the ground and now leaning over two feet off of center, said the building is now tilting three inches per year.

Structural engineer Ronald O. Hamburger made the comments Thursday at a city hearing in which he pitched an updated fix for the building’s foundation, NBC Bay Area reported.

The 58-story, 645-foot tall tower — opened to residents in 2009 — is now tilting 26 inches north and west at Fremont and Mission Streets in the heart of San Francisco’s financial district, according to NBC Bay Area.

Residents were informed that the building is settling unevenly and more than anticipated in 2016. The tower sits beside the Salesforce Transit Center, a bus terminal and potential future rail terminus for California’s high speed rail network currently under construction.

But efforts to stabilize the sinking and leaning skyscraper seemed to worsen matters. Engineers halted construction on the fix in summer 2021 so they could “determine why increased foundation movement was occurring and how this could be mitigated.”

To relaunch the stabilization, Hamburger on Thursday proposed slashing the number of support piles beneath the tower from 52 to 18 to “minimize additional building settlement.”

A letter to the Millennium Tower’s general manager last month said the new, quicker fix was needed after engineers identified two potential causes for apparent worsening of the building’s settlement: “vibration of the soils associated with pile installation activity, and unintentional removal of excessive soil as the piles were installed.”

Hamburger said the 18 steel piles will be anchored into bedrock 250 feet under the tower, cutting through rapidly compressing clay and sand soil that the building’s foundation sits upon today.

In a question and answer document, the engineer said if more than 18 piles are installed, “the construction schedule will be extended, and the building will settle and tilt a little more during this period.”

“We judge that the 18-pile solution offers an optimal solution between additional settlement and benefit gained.”

In an exclusive investigation, NBC Bay Area reported Wednesday that an expert review of the perimeter pile upgrade plan found there was a one- to four-day-long delay in summer 2021 between excavating the soil for the existing six pilings and injecting grout to minimize soil collapse.

That gap between excavating and injecting grout went against protocol and “could very well explain the comparatively rapid settlement and tilting that occurred during pile installation in August.”

In an email, Douglas Elmets, spokesperson for the Millennium Tower Homeowners Association, said the perimeter pile plan won’t stop the building’s sinking “until the piles are driven into bedrock and attached to the foundation, which will occur later this year.”

In a Thursday letter to the Millennium Tower Association, the San Francisco Department of Building Inspection said it approved a modified procedure to continue the preexisting pilot pile installation plan, and was reviewing Hamburger’s revised retrofit proposal.

In a statement to NBC News, spokesperson Patrick Hannan said SFDBI and the Engineering Design Review Team are “currently reviewing the proposed revised plan — which we only recently received.”

“Assuming we continue to receive information in a timely manner, we aim to complete our review by February 28 … the new proposal will need a revised permit to proceed,” Hannan added.

SFDBI said they would inspect between each additional pilot pile installation to ensure work was proceeding as expected.

NBC News reported in 2016 via a public records request that the Millennium Tower was previously expected by its builders to settle a maximum of 5.5 inches by the year 2028.

Tim Fitzsimons is a reporter for NBC News. he/him

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When she returned Monday from her property on the windy Maacama Ridge Road in the hills east of Healdsburg, Pamela Page remembered the lunches her father held at their home. Menus with homemade guacamole, a spicy crab dip with jalapeno and gazpacho.

Page’s family and neighbors gathered around a long table and made ham and fig sandwiches from the fruit they had picked from the trees their father had planted. Your neighbor would bring a fig cake.

Today there are only concrete walls and a stone chimney.

Page walked around the estate on Monday to review the damage from the devastating Kincade Fire, and a flurry of memories returned. The long table was gone. The trees were burned. And the vineyards that surrounded their property burned before Page’s family had planned the harvest.

On Monday, the fire was 77,758 acres and 80% contained. It destroyed 374 buildings, including 174 houses, and damaged 60 buildings, including 34 houses.

“They are sometimes shocked and … then we laugh a little and then there is a super sadness,” said Page, 56. “I think there is also a little anger. I had that the other day. How could that happen to such a nice person? It is sad.”

Mandatory evacuation orders for the fire areas were lifted on Saturday and residents have since returned to review their property and search the rubble before leaving. Some people, whose houses survived, plugged in generators and returned. But many others chose to stay elsewhere because of the lack of electricity.

Along Chalk Hill Road, which runs from Windsor to Healdsburg, many of the houses survived the flames. But nestled between burned vineyards, ruined plots were visible through the sparse trees.

The fire broke out in a rural area in northern Sonoma County on October 23 and spread rapidly, propelled by gusty winds. Cal Fire officials expect the Kincade fire to be fully contained by Thursday.

Many residents stayed in their homes until mandatory evacuation orders were issued on October 26. Within 24 hours, the hills around Chalk Hill glowed red in flames. Both sides of the road were on fire and the embers fell into the vineyards. Firemen were parked at each apartment building, ready for a vigorous fight against the fire if it came near houses – a fight that was largely successful. Fences and driveways were burned, but for many the blackened floor ended right outside their front door.

In Windsor, many residents returned to their normal routines on Monday. Shops and restaurants were open. The Panda Express on Hembree Lane was full of people having lunch. At the AT&T store across from the parking lot, three workers were sitting and asking each other if they needed to evacuate.

But in the neighborhoods east of town, where the fire raged less than a week ago, the only visible workers repairing burned phone lines were.

Page’s estate, attached to a winery, was intended as a retirement for her parents when they bought it in the 1980s. But after 35 years it had become a work of love.

Her father, Seaver Page, 86, a retired oncologist, built two houses, tended rows of vineyards, and planted fig and avocado trees. The house was a safe haven for Page, a single mother who lives in Cloverdale. She often brought her son and daughter, now in her twenties, with her to play in the creek, ride a quad, and spend Christmas with her grandparents.

Nearly eight miles from the Page property, another house in the 9400 block on Chalk Hill Road had burned down. Between the white, ashy rubble sat an iron rooster and a stone Buddha. The brick foundation and the chimney were still there, albeit slightly charred.

“Thank you very much! 1st Responder You’re great,” read a white sign with drawings of fire engines, helicopters and airplanes attached to a number of mailboxes.

Dozens of PG&E workers parked along Chalk Hill, replacing the power poles that had burned in the flame. The crews also cut down burned trees. The fire department worked to keep the fire out of residential buildings, even though some barns and outbuildings had been destroyed.

“It’s just so different along Chalk Hill Road,” says Annie Holden, a neighbor. “There used to be so many trees.”

Holden was evacuated on October 26, but returned on Saturday to find her red-painted house on Chalk Hill still standing. They stayed with friends in Santa Rosa and watched the news in horror while video footage showed their neighborhood on fire.

Holden and her husband didn’t know if their home had survived until they called the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office and got a video of their standing property.

“We thought the house was gone,” she said. “It was amazing.”

The only damage was in their yard, although it appeared the firefighters stopped the fire just before it reached their well. Her mailbox had melted slightly, but a charred edition of the Healdsburg Tribune, a weekly newspaper, had largely survived.

Your neighbors weren’t so lucky. A lot near the intersection of Chalk Hill and Highway 128 had burned down. The property was surrounded by a row of trees that had become completely bare.

“You wouldn’t have known there was a house there because of the trees, but now the trees are empty,” said Holden.

Less than a mile away, off Murphy Road, Vicky Robinson was watering the front yard. The hills around her house were blackened from the fire, but the only damage to her house was the stench of smoke that still wafted from room to room.

Robinson, 56, had been evacuated about a week ago, but her husband stayed behind. He wanted to save her house when the fire got closer. But at 3:00 am on October 27th, as gale winds howled through the area, he left after seeing the hills around her house ablaze and the embers “coming across the street.”

“The firefighters were amazing,” said Robinson, pointing to the houses to the left of their house. “I can’t believe what they did. All these houses, they burned in the courtyards, the fire burned all the way to their door, but the houses were saved.

“We’re just so grateful,” she added.

Sarah Ravani is a contributor to the San Francisco Chronicle. Email: sravani@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @SarRavani

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Skateboarder Zane Timpson glides down a residential street on one of San Francisco’s famous steep hills. The sun seems to be balancing on the horizon. He stretches a hand back towards the camera that is following him – perhaps to keep his balance or as if he were inviting the audience to come along. Timpson bombs hills – high-speed skating on dizzying tracks – and the latest New Yorker video follows him, his fellow traveler Adam Anorga, and other members of their crew as they sail downhill like a rolling tableau alternating between deep asphalt and asphalt Leaning incredibly high on bends in the road, arms outstretched as if surfing on Christ the Redeemer.

Bombing hills requires a different skill than traditional flat-bottomed street skating or bowl skating. “Essentially, all you have to do is stand there and make sure you don’t fall off,” Anorga told me. Instead of working out technical tricks, bombers rely on serenity in the face of adrenaline. He said that some of the lightest skaters he knows “just know how to hold on and trust yourself and trust their intuition”. He went on, “I mean, if you can do this to bomb a hill, you are sure you could. . . apply that to all other aspects of your life that. . . can be profound if used properly. “

The steep falls, the presence of traffic, and the high speeds – Timpson estimates he is traveling at speeds of 20 to 30 mph on a typical hill – can be a dangerous combination. People have died in hill bombs. “It’s not a joke. It’s not easy to take,” says Timpson in the video. In 2019, the pro-skater Pablo (P-Spliff) Ramirez, who appeared in the videos “Awaysted” and “Fffurther” by Anorga and Timpson, died can be seen while skating in traffic in San Francisco’s SoMa neighborhood. The acclaimed GX1000 skater did not bomb, but pawed when the accident occurred while he was holding onto the bumper of a moving vehicle. Anorga, which occurred the same day how his friend’s accident hit a doctor to undergo reconstructive surgery for a ruptured ACL remembers a turning point. “Wow, I hardly go here and my best friend is no longer here,” he recalled. Seeing it as an opportunity to commit to himself, he said it made him take care of his body so he could keep running for as long as possible. Anorga is philosophical about the risks of extreme skiing: “We use our K body to its absolute limits and to its absolute potential. We don’t just waste our bodies as we get older, ”said Anorga. “Often it means that we cross our threshold and get hurt.”

Timpson and Anorga both moved to San Francisco because of its knotty hills and tight skateboarding community, and they credit that community with the safety. “When you have a full squad,” explains Timpson in the video, drivers will pay more attention and treat the crew more like another vehicle. During the filming, the skaters walk with a group and use spotters at intersections to ensure that cars don’t interrupt the bomber’s path. “Ask yourself … do you have supportive friends who will be there for you when you need them?” Anorga said. “This is something that is very important,” he said, then paused and added: “Although some of the funniest times I’ve ever had without it.” … It’s that risk, that adrenaline rush that drives you in a different direction. But yeah, that’s a whole different story. “

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