This anecdote recently surfaced, having been published in the Victoria, BC Times Colonist. As the author states, there is very little information about the effects in British Columbia of the 1964 Alaska quake's tsunami, other than the massive damage done in Port Alberni, BC. How fortunate that Mr. Ford has come forward, and with an excellent photographic record of the event as well.

The use of the term tidal wave to mean tsunami was common in 1964, and still is, even though most coastal British Columbians are aware of the correct term.


Tidal Wave

by Charles Ford

From all of the accounts of the damage caused by the Alaskan Tidal Wave of March 1964, one would think that the only damage done was to Port Alberni. As a young seaplane pilot for B.C. Airlines and resident of Zeballos at that time, I can attest to the fact that many areas on the west coast of Vancouver Island were badly damaged that night.

Our home was built on stilts over the water, and that night as I finished my bath I wondered why the tub took so long to drain. Hearing my wife out on the front porch calling across the road to the neighbors, I went to the front door and found the water level at the top of the porch, which was about three feet above the ground.

The word was that there had been an earthquake in Alaska and that three to four tidal waves were coming. Quickly dressing our two-month-old daughter (and me), we went next door to the Hedigans, the B.C. Airlines' ticket agents who had three small children.

Nothing happened for the next hour or so and we thought it was all over, but then we heard the roar of rushing water. I went to the porch and saw logs and other debris being swept down the main road, the water rising rapidly and entering our house.

The Hedigans' house was on blocks as well and was rapidly filling with water. We had no idea how deep it might get and if the house would come off its foundation and start to float, trapping us inside in the dark.

We contemplated going to the attic, but at that time the water started to subside. Immediately we went to the school which was on higher ground at the east end of town.

Pete, the manager of Zeballos Iron Mine, which was located several miles inland, sent down the crew buses to pick up the women and children and take them to the bunk houses at the mine site.

He had called out all the bull cooks in camp, and had them roust the sleeping miners from their beds, ordered clean bedding put on, the cook house opened and the cooks to action, providing hot food for the new guests.

Downtown Zeballos, an old gold mining town built in the 1930s, had seen better days, but the water had lifted many buildings off their foundations, live electric wires lay across the street sending unwary dogs howling off, and people wandering the street with a muted sense of excitement and wondering what was going to happen next.

The next morning we returned home to find that the house had been filled to a depth of about two feet of muddy water, some of which remained, floating the linoleum. A couple of holes in the floor with my .308 Winchester hastened its departure- it wasn't much of a house anyway.

Flying to Tahsis that morning I saw an incredible sight between Esperanza Hospital and Ceepeecee.

The water rushing through Tahsis Narrows had brought up all bottom dwelling fish. Their swim bladders had expanded and they had perished by the thousands, not being able to go down again. Small boats were forced to slow down as there were so many dead fish in their way.

Mary Basin on Nootka Island, where we used to pull the occasional crab trap, had been affected by the upheaval. We were able to get only one trap out of the sand and its sole occupant was a butter clam.

Over the next few days, there were several more alerts that thankfully never materialized. During the first one, I radioed to have my wife Carol pack up our infant daughter and be ready to go to Campbell River. When I arrived in Zeballos 20 minutes later, she had every thing she could moved up on the beds and tables and two-month-old Cindy bundled up in her wash tub ready to go to sea like Moses if worst came to worst.

Several days later I took a photographer and scientist from the federal government on a tour of the west coast sites that had been hit.

Most of the float camps had no damage, just a quick ride up and down, but camps and villages at the heads of shelving inlets suffered quite badly.

Amai Inlet on Kyuquot Sound had a wave which was later estimated to have been eight feet high, which tossed houses around like toys. The Indian village at Hot Springs Cove had virtually every building dislocated. San Josef Bay near the northwest tip of the Island, where the river entered the ocean, had a large wave undermine the bank and topple a neat line of trees into the river.

Fortunately, it was not a full tide when the wave struck, or there would have been much more damage and possibly considerable loss of life. There were no warning systems then, just radio stations, or the airlines' network of radios which were normally on during the day only. There are better communications now so that when the next one arrives, everybody can head for the high ground.


Charles Ford now lives in Cobble Hill, British Columbia.