The Story of Gene Rosellini, the “Mayor of Hippie Cove”
In moving to Alaska and Cordova in the late 70’s, I had the good fortune to find a cabin for $50 a month; it had no electricity or running water, but it had a magnificent view looking for twenty miles up Prince William Sound.
It was outside of town, in a place the locals called “Hippie Cove” — there was an old school bus, a couple of shacks, the cabin I lived in, and a cave where Gene Roselline lived.
I sometimes gave him a ride — he smelled deeply of wood smoke and earth, and his face and arms were totally blackened by soot. He was trying to live as someone would live 10,000 years before, and refused to use the modern tools of civilization.
Once he was moving a huge driftwood log up the beach for firewood — when he briefly left the scene, some of the residents decided to help him, and used chains and a truck to get the log to where he lived. He pushed it back down to where it had been, and then inched it back to his dwelling. No help allowed.
Gene — who we also called “Earth” — would occasionally work on a commerical fishing boat to get some income; he was extremely strong and hard working, but he would sleep on the front of the boat both because he didn’t want to sleep inside and of the strong smell that he carried with him.
In Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild, Krakauer said he was called “The Mayor of Hippie Cove”, a term for him I had not heard. This is how Krakauer tells the story:
He was the eldest stepson of Victor Rosellini, a wealthy Seattle restaurateur, and cousin of Albert Rosellini, the immensely popular governor of Washington State from 1957 to 1965. As a young man Gene had been a good athlete and a brilliant student. He read obsessively, practiced yoga, became expert at the martial arts. He sustained a perfect 4.0 grade-point average through high school and college. At the University of Washington and later at Seattle University, he immersed himself in anthropology, history, philosophy, and linguistics, accumulating hundreds of credit hours without collecting a degree. He saw no reason to. The pursuit of knowledge, he maintained, was a worthy objective in its own right and needed no external validation.
By and by Rosellini left academia, departed Seattle, and drifted north up the coastthrough British Columbia and the Alaska panhandle. In 1977, he landed in Cordova. There, in the forest at the edge of town, he decided to devote his life to an ambitious anthropological experiment.
“I was interested in knowing if it was possible to be independent of modern technology,” he told an Anchorage Daily News reporter, Debra McKinney, a decade after arriving in Cordova. He wondered whether humans could live as our forebears had when mammoths and saber-toothed tigers roamed the land or whether our species had moved too far from its roots to survive without gunpowder, steel, and other artifacts of civilization. With the obsessive attention to detail that characterized his brand of dogged genius, Rosellini purged his life of all but the most primitive tools, which he fashioned from native materials with his own hands.
He became convinced that humans had devolved into progressively inferior beings,” McKinney explains, “and it was his goal to return to a natural state. He was forever experimenting with different eras Roman times, the Iron Age, the Bronze Age. By the end his lifestyle had elements of the Neolithic.”
He dined on roots, berries, and seaweed, hunted game with spears and snares, dressed in rags, endured the bitter winters. He seemed to relish the hardship. His home above Hippie Cove was a windowless hovel, which he built without benefit of saw or ax: “He’d spend days,” says McKinney, “grinding his way through a log with a sharp stone.”
As if merely subsisting according to his self-imposed rules weren’t strenuous enough, Rosellini also exercised compulsively whenever he wasn’t occupied with foraging. He filled his days with calisthenics, weight lifting, and running, often with a load of rocks on his back. During one apparently typical summer he reported covering an average of eighteen miles daily.
Rosellini’s “experiment” stretched on for more than a decade, but eventually he felt the question that inspired it had been answered. In a letter to a friend he wrote:
“began my adult life with the hypothesis that it would be possible to become a Stone Age native. For over 30 years, I programmed and conditioned myself to this end. In the last 10 of it, I would say I realistically experienced the physical, mental, and emotional reality of the Stone Age. But to borrow a Buddhist phrase, eventually came a setting face-to-face with pure reality. I learned that it is not possible for human beings as we know them to live off the land.'”
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After giving up on his quest to live without technology, Rosellini stabbed himself with a knife in his heart, in the cave that he had lived in for more than ten years.
I believe Mr. Roselini was a great man. He was brilliant for that matter. I wish to know more information on him if you know anything more. thank you.
I was born and raised in Cordova, and as a child I would often ride my bike some odd miles to town and occasionally run in to mountain man Gene. On the occasions that I recall, he had his backpack full of stones. A large backpack. We would have conversations occasionally and the substance of them is lost to me, but my impression of him now is that he was a friendly, intense man that had a strong personality. I often wished I could have spoken with him more before he died. I would also like to say that local rumors state that he did not have a knife in his front, but in his back, and Cordova Police are inept enough to rule anything shy of eye-witnessed murder a suicide.
My name is David. I worked long seasonal months in Cordova in the mid to late eighties. I wld drive a work truck sometimes every day in the week past hippie cove and on to the Chugach cannery. This dirt road was where Gene was seen most. My first ever look at him, he was carying two logs which were bound together. These logs were at least 8″ to 10″ round and at least 10 feet long. Carrying them at the back of his neck on his shoulders. I drove past him in awe and drove to the cannery. I left the cannery about 10-15 minutes later, drove maybe 1 mile back from where I last seen him and easily noticed that he only made about 50 feet of distance. Bye the way! This story was not a rare moment that I witnessed. This man did this kind of stuff constantly. Anyone who lives or lived in Cordova during these times knows this about him very well. One last thing! There were many people who wld laugh and make fun of him for being so so different. I remember it well. One man said to my face”he’s a useless member of society. Doesn’t pay taxes doesn’t do anything good for anyone not even himself” the last summer for me was 1989. When I left Cordova for the very last time Gene Rosellini had picked up every single piece of garbage, every broken wine or beet bottle. Gene made a unique forehead harness that wld help him carry those very large round plastic garbage cans, full to the brim he walked one load at a time to various dumpsters around Cordova. He turned a cute cove that has been collecting garbage for I’m sure decades! Into a clean safe place for people to live cheaply. I have no idea what it looks like today?
My name is Bill. The tails of Gene Roselline are very intriguing. Having read the book “Into the Wild” it left me with questions concerning Gene’s past. I was not able to find anything that details his life before Alaska.
Back during the summer of 1972 I worked as a mechanic for North Pacific Processors in Cordova, AK. One day I stepped out on the dock and found a long haired hippie had totally torn apart a centrifuge used to extract oil from fish heads, etc. The parts were neatly laid out on paper. I immediately notified Chris Johnson the head of maintenance who quickly went to see what was going on. Chris proceeded to inform the employee that he should have let someone with a little better than average intelligence work on the centrifuge. Later on we discovered that he had a Doctorate and was related to the Governor of Washington. It was that summer when hippies began to occupy Hippie Cove. I recall that he was also referred to as the King of Hippie Cove.
I don’t know if this hippie was actually Gene though it sure strikes a strong comparison. He was a very quiet person. Perhaps he came to Cordova that summer to work and maybe this is why he later relocated to Cordova.
I knew Gene, we used to call him Mountainman or Smokeman Gene. I would run across him on trails or while out hunting somewhere. He was always very pleasant and nice to me. Sometimes I would see him at the Bidarki working out lifting weights and doing Martial arts. He had a very primitive workout routine, something a Roman soldier would do maybe. An amazing person that brought his own flavor to Cordova when I was growing up. RIP Gene
Oh, I forgot to say that there are still parts of an old cabin of his in the woods. Not many people know where it is or that it was his cabin, but I had seen him hauling and working on it when I was a kid. Just and fyi
I grew up in Cordova and Gene was part of the community. You would always see him walking with his backpack. He was kind and enjoyed a stimulating conversation. He was a voracious reader and read everything. I was greatly sadden to hear of his death.
I first Gene where I work , he would come to the Outboard shop and buy a gallon of stove oil.
I asked him what kind of oil stove he had ,his reply it was a oil lamp . He said he used the lamp
to read way into the night as late as 8:30 sometimes . I remember one night at the post office I was getting home late from work and Gene was there so we struck a conversation ,and it went on for like 45 minutes.
He went on telling me he was having knee problems ,and that it would save him a lot of time if there was a road out of Cordova to Valdez. He had been walking all the way around the coast line to Simpson bay
and climb over the mountians to Valdez.
Gene was always polite but quiet and Im sure if you ever needed a hand he would of been right there to help.
That night in the Post Office was the last time I seen Gene we shook hands and parted ways . and then a week or so later I heard that he was found dead, was a shock to me . I drive by Hippy Cove often and my thoughts turn to Gene.
As I leave Cordova moving south I will always remember the people of cordova that added color to this small fishing town thats full of special people .
I lived at the Cove for a number of years and was told by someone who claimed to be close to Gene that his eyesight had started to fade. I’ve also heard numerous people say that he was murdered, but I don’t know.
I met Mountainman Gene in the early 80’s when I was driving cab for The Club Taxi. Which I did for about three years. I lived at the opposite end of The Cove from Gene, down by the sauna, in my little camp trailor. Altho’ I didn’t see him all that much back then, as I worked six or seven days a week from 6:00am to 6:00pm driving Taxi. However, Occasionally when I got off my shift I’d see Gene having a cup of what looked like black coffee, maybe it was tea? at the Club Bar. I always tried to sit with him & we had quite a few profound, interesting conversations. I always asked him if I could buy him a beer, most of the time he’d say no, but there was one time when we were in a deep conversation, & he did let me buy him a Rainier. I don’t know if he really drank much of it, I think he was just trying to be kind by saying yes. I was usually drinking, so I don’t remember all that much about our diverse subjects/conversations we had. I’ve always regretted not paying more attention, as Gene was always very polite, kind, soft-spoken, & highly intelligent & was so smart! We also took a Marine Biology class together at The PWSCC when I was going to college to get my AA degree. I remember how quiet he was in class; our Teacher was Ken Adams & it was one of my favorite classes. I later found out that Gene had a PHD in Anthropology, or that was the rumor anyway. He seemed to enjoy the class, altho’ some of my fellow students complained about Gene’s strong order so, Ken asked him to shower before class, which he did. We only had one class a week & it was a three hour class w/ a lab, so maybe they had a point……… I felt bad for Gene, however, he handled it with grace & Digniy. Gene has such strength, integrity, & wisdom. There were times when it seemed he knew as much as Ken did on some subjects. He sure knew A LOT about the flora,fauna, & all the creatures of the Sea & Land!! One of my fondest memories of Gene was one time when I was on a ‘Charter’ out to 27 mile with one of my best friends, Stella. We were on our way back to town & we saw someone walking way up ahead of us on the side of the road about 18 or 20 mile maybe?, so we slowed way down so as not to dust him out, & as got we got closer we saw it was Gene, &! he was not really walking, but sort of walk-running, with this giant frame pack on his back!! We slowly pulled along side him & asked did he want a free ride back to town? He was quite cordial, he stopped & talked with us for a few minutes, & explained that he was doing a Zen Walking Meditation, & He did not need a ride. We asked if he’d like some cold creek water as we spoke for a few minutes, & he drank some & I asked him what was in his pack & he said was packing about 80 lbs of Granite rocks from the rock quarry back to his Cabin! Stella & I were TOTALLY blown away by this!!! I asked him if we could take the pack back to town for him, & we could leave it by the trail to his cabin; but he said no, & smiled, & said it was a part of his Zen Meditation!! The next time I saw him at The Club we had a wonderful, informative conversation about various Zen Meditations & how the Walking Mediation, with the 80 lbs of rocks, which he did frequently, helped him stay grounded & in a centered state of mind, & also kept him physically & mentally strong. Mountainman Gene was unique unto himself. One of the times we were at The Club, he was telling me that he was trying to make clay pots for himself out of the mud on the flats by drying them & then firing them in his camp fire. I don’t remember if he was ever successful at his experiment or not. Yes, that mountainman Gene was & always will hold a warm place in my heart!! Gene & Wild Bill were two of my favorite Iconic Cordovans!!! I still think of him periodically & was so, so sad when he died. Man the rumors were sure flying around town after his death!! People speculating that he was murdered, that it wasn’t a suicide. That he was in ill health& on & on. We’ll never know what was in his mind at the end of his life…….. I guess we’ll just have to add it to the many tales of the unknowable, inscrutable, Walking Zen Master, known as Mountain Man Gene Rosellini. He’s still a Legend around town & I for one still miss him. May you Rest in Peace my friend!!
Great to come across all of these various recollections of Gene. I arrived in Cordova in 1979 and worked through the oil spill (1989) during which time I had many conversations with Gene. We also took a wild edibles course together through PWSCC (Alex Wenekins was the instructor) and Gene and I used to joke about the fact that anything was edible if you poured butter over it, then salted and peppered it as Alex instructed. We became friends, climbed some mountains (one time did Mount Eyak in a veritable rain storm… which was most of Cordova’s weather anyway). On that trip he stopped and showed me where, on a solo exploration of the peak fell many feet (like 40 or 50 as I recall), landing in a tree and toppling down into the soft moss where he lay stunned a long time. Gene said “I may well have met my death there and no one would have ever known what had happened to me…” Indeed. I once came to his cabin in Hippie Cove to visit and he had a bookshelf with a variety of texts. Dirty as he was, he’d don a pair of white woven gloves before handling books, knowing that his dirt would transfer and dirty them up. A three-stringed guitar sat in one corner. Thinking to help him out, I offered to give him my old strings when I changed them out (which I would do monthly because I played a lot more then than I do now) and he dismissed the offer with “No, I play it with only 3 strings… have invented my own chord system and don’t want to confound that with 6.” I still chuckle when I remember him saying that. He was like a smiling Neaderthal… filthy but gentle and kind. It was a few winters later that this cabin burned to the ground. The cause? He was roasting a porcupine skin over his open campfire (he did not have a fireplace/chimney … just an open campfire inside which is why he was called, by some “The Barbequed Hippie”), it caught fire and burned the place down.
We used to park our little RV at what used to be MORPAC next to the road heading to the AK State Ferry Terminal. One time there was a knock on the door and there stood Gene, smiling through that wild nest of a beard and holding out a large package of hamburger for us to take. My wife, Cynthia, suspiciously asked “Gene…where did you get that?” He replied “My one stop and shop place: the Cordova dump!” He went on to explain that Davis Foods put out of date, but still good, meats in a box and labeled them “For Gene” Small acts of kindness meant a lot to him, though I’ve heard the stories too of the log, turning down rides, etc. He wanted to do things his own way.
As most of you know, Gene was a media favorite… because his image (Neanderthal) didn’t jive with his intelligence. I remember one time a reporter from Anchorage was interviewing this ‘living cave man’ and asked Gene why he didn’t bathe. You have to picture this guy in raggedy shorts, two different colored crew socks pulled up his bulging calves, sawn off X-tra Tuffs on soaked feet, and spikey black hair (he ‘cut’ it himself with a burning stick…!)… and out of him comes verbiage like this “I don’t bathe because I consider it a bourgeois affectation.” Good stuff. Those reporters scribbled like mad whenever he spoke.
I also recall a time we were swimming in the Cordova pool…suddenly my companion said “something tastes bad about this water” and what it was, was Gene had jumped in on the opposite end of the pool, his smoky-ness having flavored a few million gallons! Wow… no wonder Ken Adams (a friend) asked him to bathe.
When Gene died I, like many others, felt a great loss. He was a friend. Enigmatic but in those eyes was a kindness I yet fondly remember. Missed but not forgotten. We love you Gene and miss you still dear friend.
Tom & Cynthia
I camped at Hippie Cove for 3 months in 1990 while working for Chugash Cannery at the end of the road. I recalled Gene and have a photo of him in his earth clothes and covered with soot as described above.
It was quite interesting to find out in recent years of his notoriety and educated well to do past.
The next time I find my Cordova pictures I will be sure to try and post a photo of Gene.
Thanks for providing additional information on this extraordinary person.
Julie J-California
I was Cordova’s Alaska Marine Higheay terminal manager from 1980 to the early 1990’s. Having lived in Cordova since1962, I knew just about everyone. Gene used to stop in the ferry terminal once in a while and use the bathroom and I would try to engage him in conversation and I liked to think we considered ourselves friends. He was always very polite and well spoken, I could tell he was very intelligent and educated. We we talk about why he chose to live in that manner and some of the challenges he faced like getting enough fat in his diet and so on. He was a fascinating person and I got the impression that it was a profound life choice he had made that was very difficult to get out of after he had committed to it and I’ve often wondered why. I was deeply saddened when hearing of his death and whished I had made more of an effort to get to know him. He was quite an amazing and unique individual.
I knew Gene fairly well back in the mid 70’s. We went hunting together once on Hawkins Island. We traveled by skiff, camping on the beach. One night he never came back until morning. I asked him what he had been doing. He said he walked until it was dark and then spent the night sitting under a tree. He was very easy to talk to and had a great sense of humor. I was very sad to hear of his passing.
Why can i find no pictures or anything written by Gene himself? I’m very interested in learning more about his life and the lessons he recorded but can only read recent second hand accounts and can find no pictures of any kind?
I first met Gene in Valdez around 78’. He had just arrived from Seattle on a sailboat owned by my friend and his UW school chum, Bill Lorch. I was living out at 10 mile and he had moved to a spruce bow shelter some where near there. I believe he said he had begun his experiment in prehistoric indigenous living on the Olympic Peninsula but was have trouble being remote enough so jumped at the opportunity to come north with Bill. I really enjoyed conversing with Gene, a very easy guy to be around. Eventually we both ended up living in Cordova. Over the years I ran into him in places like Montague Is., Mt Eyak, Million dollar bridge, Pt Whitehead and one time out near Orca lodge harvesting fat off a dead sea lion for lamp oil. He frequented the Bidarki gym and library where we would often talk. I think they eventually banned him from the gym because of his smell. He was a voracious reader and I remember him using White picking gloves to read with so not to dirty the book pages. His failing eye site both near and far really bummed him out and I believe caused him depression. Last time I saw him Iwas leaving to winter camping in Baja. I sensed him not being happy in his situation and suggested he come to the outside Pacific coast of Baja where it was still quite remote but warmer and easier living. He seemed intrigued but said he would think on it. We Liz and I returned in the spring we heard of his passing. I am sure I remember a EMT who was there to recover his body he had committed sepiku, which made perfect sense knowing of his intest and practice of martial arts. A real gentle soul. I think I might have a photo of him I took in the 70’s. He had taken my dog for a mid winter hike on the Lowe River. It was sub zero and in time I got worried so I went looking on x country skis. Gene was hiking in cut off pants. When I found them he was bent over blowing on the dogs feet to warm them up. I took a pic of that. I will look for it.
Bob — Thanks for your detailed history — I am amazed how many people were affected by Gene and have made comments on this website — I met him in 1979, as a neighbor at Hippie Cove ….
I knew Gene would take off and swim across to Hawkins Iland in the strong tides. No one else in town did that sort of thing.
Jon: It sounds like he easily could have won American Ninja — swimming across to Hawkins Island would be more than a bit cold and difficult.. Thanks for the story
I moved to Cordova in the spring of 1990. When I first got there from Valdez I was pleasantly surprised by Cordova’s beauty. It was the image of Alaska that lived in my dreams. When my girlfriend of the time and I arrived we were directed to hippy cove. On our arrival we searched out a spot to call home. There was a lot of trash around so we picked our spot and started hauling off the trash. It took a few hours but soon afterwards we set up our tent. The next morning we met Gene. He reminded us of a character out of that movie “Weird Science “. As many know the first time you meet Gene you mind wonders who this man is and can he talk. Well Gene struck up a very articulate conversation informing us we just set up camp in the tidal zone. Coming from Colorado via northern Illinois I really didn’t understand tides. Gene directed us to a safe place to park our van and set up our tent. Over the years I chatted with Gene frequently. He was all that was said about him. I remember him staying at the reluctant fisherman every once in a while when his family visited. I remember his constant quest to rebuild his cabin. We would see him dragging huge logs by a strap wrapped around his head. I also remember one spring, when I arrived from my winter home, running into Gene. I asked how his winter went. He smiled and said it was long and snowy. He said it was the hardest winter he ever had. He mentioned how glad he was not to be in Valdez because their winter had a tremendous amount of snow. He didn’t say tremendous he gave me the actual snow total, but I can’t remember that now. After talking about the long winter and The Valdez snow total he mentioned that if it snowed that much here he would of lyed down on his knife. It was either that next year or the year after that he did just that. In life there is death and Gene achieved both on his own terms.
I can honestly say and very few who knew Gene would argue with the fact that Gene Rosellini was the toughest human being on the face of the planet. You could put him in the ring with Mike Tyson and he would defeat him. You could put him in front of a full grown Brown bear and the bear would go around him because it would sense that there was something wrong with him which is what I would do because I did not understand him. Gene was an extraordinarily unique individual that you would have to leave the homo sapien sapien species to find something to compare him to. My first thought that comes to mind is a Neanderthal but Gene was tougher than a Neanderthal so there can only be one other creature that would in my mind be similar in endurance,tenacity and a non existent threshold of pain and that is the wolverine. One day a friend of mine said to me that they were heading out of town on a boat towards Salmo Point and that they were about out in the middle of Orca Inlet out in front of Shipyard bay when he happend to notice some thing out of the corner of his eye and he said in a almost confused tone of voice that it was Gene swimming across to Hawkins Island. My friend then watched for my response like he was expecting me to call bullshit on him. I did not. Infact I wasn’t even surprised to hear that Gene was an amazing human being who was always polite and friendly and who would stop to give you the time of day if he had a watch that is. Looking back on it all Gene was one of those people that we had the privilege to have encountered and should have appreciated more because it’s not every day or even once in a lifetime for most people that you have the opportunity and time to learn from someone as unique as Gene was. I was born in Cordova and so was my father and I know some pretty tough people and I currently work in a prison and know some pretty tough guys there but Gene is proof that it doesn’t matter where you are from. It’s mental discipline that truly makes you tough and Gene was the master if there ever was one.
Very interesting story, however wrong it may be, let it be known that Gene, “Clean Gene” as he was known by, by a lot of us locals did NOT, repeat NOT commit suicide, he was in fact murdered. It is assumed that the “killer” was interested in the money that Gene had stocked up on, which was paid to him to stay away.
Hello,
Great article and great to read all the comments, Gene was a great man. I’m currently working on a project and would love to speak to anybody who knew or had interactions with Eugene either during his life in cordova or Seattle.
Please reach out if you are able to help.
All the best,
Tom
Tom — All I know about Gene was in the original post. I have been surprised at how many folks added comments and stories about him. Should be folks in Cordova to talk with you about him.
I found this site out of sire curiously based on Jon Krakeuer book “Into the wide”. I must say, I find the story of Chris McCandless very intriguing. Now I can honestly say based on all of the comments included here expressing personal experience with Gene Rosellini, I find him a far more fascinating character to know vicariously. What an amazing and tragic story from a mind blowing perspective and what an important experiment he conducted at his own peril of the human condition that should not be over looked. Hopefully someone has the mind to write an honest biography compiling such first-hand experiences seen here before his story is lost to the wild… Thank you all for shading so much light on such an amazing and under rated human being of recent history…
I lived in Cordova for 7 years and yes the man you met was Walking Gene. We interviewed him and videoed him while there and he told us some of his background. Unfortunately our tape was destroyed in the Fish camp fire.
On Friday, February 7th, 1975, Victor Rosellini and his son Robert, my friend, whom I met in the restaurant scene in Geneva, Switzerland, brought me to Seatlle to be the Sous-Chef of Rosellini « The Other Place », their 2nd restaurant (the « Four 10 » being the first) . Victor’s family opened their home to me where I lived for a couple of months.
My bedroom was on the top floor of their home on East Prospect Street in Seattle.
In an adjacent room to mine, lived Gene.
He wasn’t sleeping in a bed but on a mat on the floor. Gene was a genuinely nice person
who was always ready to help.
Even though my English was quite limited at the time, we had very good rapports.
I have a great memory of Gene…
I learned of his passing from Marcia and Robert but wasn’t aware of the specific of his way of living in Akaska.
Thank you for this article, I really appreciate it!
I worked at Chugach cannery from 1979 through 1985. During that time I often saw Gene, or Mountain Man as we called him, on the road. Once the seasons were over, I was one of a small handful of workers they kept around for another three weeks or so to shut the place down and winterize everything. After that, I would return to Seattle where I was attending the University of Washington and was on the Track team. So most nights after work at the cannery, I would run down the road from Orca into Cordova to start getting into shape, often running the hill past the ocean dock 10 or 20 times.
I often passed by Gene, who would be out on the road moving a log or some rocks. Usually we just waved and said hello. One time I was wearing a UW shirt and he asked me if I went there, and so I stopped and we talked for 30 minutes about what I was studying, which high school I’d gone to, etc. When he mentioned that he’d grown up in Seattle and also attended UW, I was blown away. I was also impressed by his deep intellect and how articulate he was. From that point on, we’d smile and address each other by name whenever we passed.
At some point I got my degree and ended my career in the Alaska seafood industry, and years later I was reading the Krakauer (another former Cordova cannery worker!) book and there was Gene showing up in print, to my amazement. I was truly saddened to hear of his death, but it’s remarkable to see all the comments here spanning so many years. He truly touched many lives.
John: Thanks for adding to the story about Gene the Mountain Man. He was quite special. I am amazed at how many folks have commented about him here.
It was 1990; I was 20; my first summer as a seasonal cannery worker at North Pacific Processors in Cordova, Alaska. As I hiked up the steep trail through the woods a short distance down the road from the cannery, exploring this place called “Hippie Cove”, I saw a man working out – doing shoulder presses with what appeared to be a car axle. I said, “hi” but got no response, just shoulder presses and a silent stare. His face was so dark I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But I was thinking, “okaaayyy, back down to the road.”
A few times – maybe just that summer or it might have been the next summer, as well – I would see “clean Gene” walking along the road with a huge heavy-looking burden strapped to his back, sometimes miles out of town and I always wondered, “who is that guy?! And, why??” Well, now I’ve got a few answers.