Taking the Nuclear Tour

A control panel for the B Reactor at the Hanford Nuclear Reservation in Richland. The reactor was the first fully functioning nuclear plant in the U.S. and was declared a National Historic Landmark in 2008.

This summer, the hottest ticket in
the Northwest just might be tours of the Hanford Nuclear Reservation. In recent
years, the federal government has been guiding increasing numbers of guests
through the vast, highly secure site in southeast Washington. Tickets to the
events sell out hours after they are released. In the first minute of
registration this year, 500 of the 4,000 places were reserved.

Especially popular are tours of
the nuclear site’s historic B Reactor. Some people have been trying for tickets
for years. The hulking, boxy structure was built in secret during World War II
and operated during much of the Cold War. It was the nation’s first full-scale
nuclear reactor and made the plutonium for bombs for the Manhattan Project and
later during the Cold War. Now, the B Reactor, permanently shut down in 1968
and designated a National Historic Landmark in 2008, is like a museum.

Gary Petersen, the vice president
of the Tri-Cities Development Council, says it isn’t odd that people are coming
from all across the country to see one of the most highly contaminated places
in the United States.

“Out-of-town people are blown away
when they come out and see how large the site is,” Petersen observes. “They see
everything from the effects of the Ice Age floods to the ancient basalt flows
to Hanford’s legacy and what cleanup is. It’s a broad education and a
scientific visit.”

Petersen is among the many who
believe the B Reactor site should become a national park. Washington state
lawmakers are also pushing the proposal, although the National Park Service
says that plan would be too costly and difficult.

Still, even without national park
status, word is getting out. Just six years ago, only about 150 tickets to Hanford
were divvied out to the public. Now, thousands can visit the site each year.
Some businesses have started catering to these growing numbers of nuclear
tourists, who can chow down on an Atomic Red pizza or sip a Half-Life
Hefeweizen at Atomic Ale Brewpub. It’s a favorite after-hours hangout for many
Hanford workers. You can buy atomic-themed Tupperware as a souvenir at the
curiosity shop in Richland called Octopus’ Garden. And there are even kayak
tours that depart north of the nuclear site on the Columbia River and float by
World War II and Cold War era reactors.

Dennis Nybo, of Richland, guides
kayakers regularly during the spring, summer and fall along the last
free-flowing stretch of the Columbia River.

“The wildlife is incredible
because hunting there has been banned for years,” he says. “We’ve seen coyote
pups, elk, deer, osprey, eagles and blue herons.”

Nybo notes that in addition to
boating, much of his job is re-educating people about the region and what it’s
like to live in the shadow of Hanford. He says on his tours guests have seen
everything from explosive demolitions of the N Reactor’s tall stacks to massive
sturgeon rising from the deep to swim alongside the boaters.

“They get really bad information
about Hanford over there [in Seattle],” Nybo says. “But having people coming
over here and seeing the real stuff, the facts, they see what we are doing.
They see what we’re working on and what a nice place we have out here.”

The B Reactor control room in 1958.

In a semicircle around the
contaminated portion of the nuclear site stretches the Hanford Reach National
Monument. Ironically, because of the nuclear reservation, the area around
central Hanford was protected from much development or farming, and the region
is quite wild. Today, old-growth sagebrush dots the landscape and vibrant
wildflowers bloom on the rolling flanks of Rattlesnake Mountain. Visitors can
explore about 57,000 acres of some of the West’s last remaining shrub-steppe
habitat, where burrowing owls raise their young and badgers roam.

Back in Richland, locals are
strong supporters of nuclear power. Many families stayed on after WWII, and
nearly everyone is related to someone who works on the site. Hanford is home to
the federal government’s largest capital construction project, the
Vitrification Plant. Eventually, that huge factory will turn millions of
gallons of radioactive sludge into more-stable glass logs. But today, thousands
of workers are helping to build the facility.

In Richland, atomic energy is not
evil or the next solution to global warming—it’s a part of life. One of
Richland’s high schools has a cartoon atomic cloud as its mascot; the symbol is
emblazoned on letter jackets and sweatshirts. And spent Navy nuclear reactors
are barged up the Columbia River and dropped off in town a few times a year to
be taken for disposal at the Hanford site. Sometimes, the massive reactors
rolling through city streets gather a crowd; most times they don’t.

Recently, one local resident,
Jennifer Mendez, was jogging past just after a reactor had been trucked by. She
didn’t seem too concerned, despite the Hanford site’s status as a Superfund
site.

“I guess we’re familiar with lots
of reactor type work going on out here,” she says. “I think we all know that
extra steps are taken to make sure it’s done safely.”

Those who venture to Hanford or
the site’s B Reactor appear rarely disappointed. On the first tour of the
season, some people are a bit jumpy as they step from the bus and into the
reactor building. Klint Nollmeyer, who teaches middle school just south of
Seattle, clutches his notepad to his chest and his deep-set eyes widen.

“Ahhhhhh scary,” he murmurs. “You
are in the place where the bomb was made, right? You know, the smell of
industrial [stuff] and everything.”

The air inside smells acrid, dusty
and metallic. Metal coils and cylinders stacked four stories high are held in
graphite blocks. Flashing amber lights swirl about. 

Nollmeyer says he’s a history
buff, and he appears just about as excited as a kid in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate
Factory. But for others, the tour is more about long-awaited closure.

Edwin Navrotski, 83, says he was
drafted into the infantry in World War II. He saw Nagasaki, Japan, about three
months after the bomb was dropped. Plutonium for that bomb came from Hanford’s
B Reactor.

 “I saw the end product and now I see the beginning,”
Navrotski says. “So it’s the completion of a cycle for me.”

Navrotski adds he thinks the
Allies saved a lot of lives by dropping the bomb, but now some 65 years later,
the total annihilation it caused is still fresh.

“And I hope we never get to use it
again. I’m from the greatest generation, but I hope that there is a greater
generation that does not have war in its itinerary through life.”