Back

One of the most important aspects of living in Wrangell is leaving it every once in a while, or as locals say, getting off “the rock.” (It seems like every island in southeast Alaska is referred to as “the rock” by its inhabitants.)

Since moving to Alaska, the majority of my leaving has involved short excursions, mostly to other parts of southeast. My most recent departure involved many more miles, many more faces, and many more climates. From Wrangell to New York to Ecuador and back again in roughly three weeks, getting off the rock proved to be a much-needed respite.

Throughout my time away, as much as I was enjoying certain parts of the holiday (the parts in Ecuador in particular) I was always looking forward to returning to Wrangell. And that sentiment persisted, until the Alaska Airlines plane descended into Ketchikan – the first stop of the plane’s daily milk run through southeast – and the window revealed wind and rain, lots of both, going in all directions.

And I suddenly remembered what I was returning to, which was the ultimate contrast to the Ecuador sun that had tanned me for two weeks, allowed me to walk in minimal clothing, and made me thankful to be alive.

But two days after returning to Wrangell, when I was walking to work and just getting into town, I saw the ferry coming in, and the texture of the sky behind it was layered with clouds and glimpses of sunlight. And it was at that moment that I really felt like I was back.