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March 26, 1989.

Easter Sunday.

It's been three days since the Exxon Valdeus struck a reef in Prince William Sound in Alaska.

There are now 11 million gallons of oil in the water from the wounded tanker and the

spill still isn't contained.

After 72 hours on the surface of the sea, the oil has begun to congeal into a black,

scaly crust covering 100 square miles.

Twenty miles down current from the ship, a helicopter hovers over a small cluster of

islands, already surrounded by oil.

Inside sits Jack Lamb, the president of the Cordova Fisherman's Union.

His fingers drum nervously against his prosthetic leg.

Next to Jack is fellow Fisherman Rick Steiner, his lanky six foot four frame folded into

the small sea.

There on a mission, scattered reports from Fisherman around the sound describe the bodies of dead

birds, otters, and deer in the water.

Jack and Rick want to see for themselves.

The two men asked fellow Fisherman Ricky Ott to join them this morning, but she declined,

saying she didn't have the stomach for open casket females.

Their helicopter touches down on Apple Gate Rock, the tiny island in the sound.

A barren mound of stones made smooth by thousands of years of ice, wind, and tides.

...