Dead Man's Island

Since last Wednesday I have been housesitting for a family who is away in Arizona, exchanging the it’s-still-snowing Wrangell weather for arid dry hotness. I’ve been left to care for their 9-month old Alaskan husky, Yooper, who I have grown to simultaneously love and hate, four roaming kittens, and Molly, a black cat. I’ve also been left to live in their house that’s set back from the road, has incredible views of the water and mountains, and sits below a mountain of pine trees.

This weekend I tried to take full advantage of the sunny, although very chilly, weather by partaking in as many outdoor activities as I could. On Saturday I got some more exposure to crabbing by going out on the water to re-bait some pots. The day and our surroundings were made priceless by the calm water and the cloudless sky. It is at moments like these where a camera is integral to revealing the true beauty, but at the same time, actually having one and taking a picture would be much too bothersome and ruin the essential essence of the moment (don’t worry, I will never use the phrase ‘essential essence’ ever again). On the way back from the harbor, I got to drive the boat – my first time ever driving a boat. I love having firsts.

Afterward, I took a long needed walk with the Alaska husky. The walk was made that much better by conversation with Matt who took the walk with me along with his dog, Shelley. A long walk with someone to converse with is a beautiful thing. We also spotted a bald eagle perched quite near us. The closer we walked had no bearing on this eagle’s comfort level. Matt said Wrangell eagles have become habituated to humans. The bright yellow of its beak and claws struck me the hardest as I had never been that close to an eagle before. Only when Yooper ran up to it did the eagle take flight to a low branch.

When I drove up the driveway on Saturday afternoon after the walk, I wanted so badly to truly love Alaska, because at that moment, I felt I could.

My outdoor urges carried on into Sunday with kayaking. While I have kayaked before, this time was completely unlike my bikini-clad kayaking adventures of the past. This time was in Alaska. This time I was kayaking in cold water – huge distinction. I didn’t think it would be easy, but I didn’t realize all that it entailed – the gear involved (learning about new outdoor gear here is the same as learning new vocabulary – it’s what people speak in), the non-cotton garment requirement, how wet I would get and how cold I would feel with the wet clothes sticking to me. But despite all of that, despite my freezing cold, wet fingers, and despite me sitting in a pool of seawater the spray skirt couldn’t defend, I had an amazing time.

Mike (Not to be confused with Mike from Petersburg, this Mike has been my upstairs neighbor for the past month and has been a welcome confidant. Apparently, unbeknownst to me until Mike arrived, the apartment above me is used for rotating medical students from University of Washington who are doing their family medicine rotation in Wrangell. He’s one of the most knowledgeable people I have ever met and we seem to never run out of things to talk about. He is, sadly, leaving in a week and a half) and I paddled in a tandem kayak (thank god for the tandem component) from Reliance Harbor past town, past Petroglyph beach, to Dead Man’s Island.

Mike has had to tell me the history, as he knows it, of Dead Man’s Island a few times before I’ve been actually able to retain it. The details of his version are sketchy (for someone who has only been here four weeks, Mike has an extensive knowledge of Wrangell history and folklore. He has an extremely curious mind) but sometime back in the early-mid 1900s, there was a population of Chinese men who worked in Wrangell in the canneries and whatnot. The Chinese wanted to be buried in their homeland. So when one of them died, instead of being buried in Wrangell, he would be brought to Dead Man’s Island and kept in barrels, their body salted for preservation, until the next ship set sail for China. Hence, the name Dead Man’s Island.

The island itself had a thick, mossy, foliage carpet giving each step in my Xtratufs a soft, cushy landing. It was unlike any terrain I had ever seen. Light green everywhere, deflated netting hanging from trees, branches. On the island is this statue of a bear that has been knocked down and is now a bit overgrown with green. Next to it is an indecipherable plaque. I felt that maybe my presence there would conjure up some Chinese spirits. No such luck though.

The ride back to Reliance Harbor wasn’t as long or as treacherous as I had thought it would be. We even had the company of a sea lion for a little bit.