From 1974 to 1977, the Alaska Pipeline was one of the biggest construction projects in American history. At its peak, it drew over 28,000 workers to remote camps where rough conditions, long hours and bitter cold became a way of life. 

For Pam Hjorteset of Ketchikan, it was the adventure of a lifetime.

Because the majority of workers were men, the Women and Minority Business Enterprise (WMBE), created by Alyeska—the consortium of companies funding the project—opened doors for women and minority-owned businesses. The federal permit for the project required that at least 8% of the workforce be women. Hjorteset was one of them. 

“A friend was talking about possibly working for the pipeline project, and we decided maybe we should be making some of that money ourselves instead of letting all the jobs go to ‘foreigners’ coming into the state,” said Hjorteset, 80.

Snapshots from Pam Hjorteset’s time on the Alaska Pipeline, where wildlife sightings included bears, wolves, goats, reindeer and foxes.

Getting hired wasn’t easy. Jobs were awarded through a layered system that factored in seniority and location. Eventually, she became a Teamster and started as a fueler working nights. 

“I was the assistant so I had to accompany the driver to work sites to take fuel for tools and vehicles,” she said.

Things slowed down and she was laid off right before Christmas, only to be called back soon after to fill in as a parts person. 

“In the warehouse, I stocked parts inside and out. There must have been a million kinds of O rings, and no way to immediately learn them all,” she recalled. “So I started bringing customers to the bins and letting them find what they needed.” 

Pam asked the boss if she could take old parts books home to study and he agreed. The initiative paid off. 

“They must have liked me because even after the person I was filling in for came back, they kept me on,” said Hjorteset.

Eventually, a position was created for her managing parts across nearby construction sites. 

LIFE AT CAMP

Work camps lined the length of the pipeline, providing room and board for employees.

“Each dorm had rooms for two people,” Hjorteset said. “My roommate and I were right next door to a married couple. They always said if I needed help, I could bang on the wall and they’d be right there.” 

The camp had a tiny store, but you really didn’t need much. Still, Hjorteset craved little luxuries, like a McDonald’s meal or a hot dog. If someone flew to Fairbanks for medical work, “everyone would ask them to bring back McDonald’s, even if it arrived cold,” she said with a laugh. 

There were no personal vehicles on the pipeline. Everyone flew to get where they were going.

Her camp was located 200 miles north of the Arctic Circle, near the last portion of the pipeline. The temperatures were harsh—falling to 40 below before wind chill. 

“If you brought food back from the cafeteria, you didn’t need a refrigerator. You’d just put it on the windowsill,” she said. “You had to be careful not to leave it there too long or it would freeze and explode!”

Each camp had its nickname. Hjorteset worked at Galbraith, often called the “White House” or the “Taj Mahal” because it was where the bigwigs stayed. No alcohol was allowed anywhere on the project, although it flowed pretty freely at that camp.

AMONG THE MEN

The work schedule was grueling: 12 hours a day, seven days a week, nine weeks straight, followed by a two-week break. 

“You didn’t have time to do much after work,” said Hjorteset. “You ate, slept and tried to do a little laundry.” 

She only left camp a couple of times during those breaks. 

“If you left, you weren’t guaranteed the same spot when you returned,” she said. “Some people flew to Vegas or Hawaii, spent or lost all their money and came back to work with nothing.”

Although she worked mostly with men, Hjorteset said she never felt discriminated against or harassed. 

“I would sit outside the dining hall with a group of guys while we waited for dinner. I was the female they talked to because they were missing a wife, sister or mother,” she said. “Some women took advantage of the eight to one odds, but I just did my job, got along with most people and my coworkers respected that.” 

At times, she had to pick up parts from another site, which was usually a half day drive. Winter conditions made it especially challenging. Once, the heater in her truck went out halfway to her destination, and she felt her hands and feet start burning from the cold. 

“I tried to rub my fingers, but that didn’t help much,” she said. “By the time I arrived, I had frostbite. Even now, I can still feel some numbness in my fingers.”

Wildlife was a common sight. She spotted grizzly bears, wolves, mountain goats, reindeer and foxes during her trips. 

“One day, I was in my room when I heard screaming,” she said. “A bear had gotten into the dorm and done some damage looking for food. We were told to stay in our rooms, but what does everyone do? We opened our doors to see what was going on. The bear could have taken down any of those doors, but they finally ran him out of the building and outside.” 

It was a long couple of years of hard work and little else, but Hjorteset said she’s grateful for the experience. 

“It was like sentencing yourself to a jail you could walk away from, but I was lucky,” she said. “My job allowed me to leave camp and travel to other locations. It allowed me to develop confidence in myself because I learned to do work I knew nothing about and was quite successful.” 

By June 1977, when the oil started flowing, Hjorteset’s job was finished and she returned home. The shift back to “normal” life required adjustment. 

“Normal, everyday life was fascinating again,” said Hjorteset.