I flew west from Seattle to Southeast Alaska. The last hour of the flight was suddenly baptized in bright light- I was surprised because I was expecting rain from an earlier text.

AlaskArrival: 

I landed, texted Danielle who was to pick me up, grabbed my bag above 18C and maneuvered myself out of the plane without hitting anyone with my bags. Obligatory thanks to the flight attendants.

I found the baggage claim belt and saw Danielle “Hello!” She looks to be the same age as me, same hair length and color. Buddy personality. Twins?

My bag does not appear. She says we should check at the desk and a friendly gray-haired 50 something determines that my bag is in Vegas. He offers a $50 voucher and I’m already determining how much the last flight home will cost with the help of subtraction. I fill out a form with my address (the office address via Danielle). I already noticed how long it took to fill out the form, commented to Danielle about small town charm, and we took the ramp.

I lichrally boarded a two-deck large passenger boat, which looked a ferry, but not before walking through a tunnel made by crew with their arms in the air saying “wooo!” I hope I didn’t let them down and that I wheeled through with the appropriate panache.

I met everyone at once so the names did not stick, but they offered me coffee and that did. I saw the large carafes at the bar and assumed the worst- Folgers or off-brand Folgers. To my surprise, it was local coffee and heavy whipping cream was even available. I can’t stress enough: I got picked up from an airport by a boat. It’s for the New Things list.

Taking it in:

I followed Jessica to the cockpit- that’s where the captain is on a boat, right?- and I was serenely ushered into Ketchikan. The boat didn’t feel like it was going very fast, it was like a leisurely survey of the town to my left. In fact, Jess pointed out Ed’s house to me, her house and then where Amanda lives. She could say: she that gray building, he lives above it in that blue house. “You see that red and tan house, just above that mint colored building and to the left? That’s our house. We bought it last year and we’re really excited about it. It’s hard to find houses here without excess water damage.”

The sun was still ogling us as we docked, but the ground’s shimmery layer evidenced the weather from the day: rain, wet, more rain.

I assumed it would be rainy because I expected it to be like Seattle: rainy except for summer.

So. I met everyone. I noticed that no one was afraid to curse, most were wearing jeans: one girl from Alabama was wearing crocs (“all rubber sole for the deck, ya know”). Ed was short, topped with an orange hat, and his mustache could touch his lower lips when his mouth was closed. He seemed nice and kind of shy. I remember having a phone interview with him and picturing someone tall, skinny, pale and with glasses. Bookish, soft-spoken, and passive. The more I took him in, I realized he was just laid back, but demonstrative when he needed to be. People who are drawn to work in the elements can’t be passive all the time, especially if they want to be responsible for AARP tourists on a wide boat headed toward an island with historic totem poles.

The town sat on the side of a mountain, houses dotting the edge with a variety of colors, planted among the trees like jumbo Easter eggs.

As we walked off the boat and onto the ramp, Danielle said “Ohhhhh. YOU’RE working with Victoria.” With a wide, descriptive smile she said ‘She says everything that comes to her mind” and Jess didn’t disagree. I imagined a gal in her late 20s who maybe started out as a deck hand with the company. After all, Jess told me that she started as a deckhand in 2011. Now she helps run everything and has a baby bump, which will excuse her in a month or two from work and will leave me with one less friend with free hands. I’m sure she is very excited, I remember the babies’ name from our phone interview. She has wavy brown hair, so does Danielle. I noticed Molly (crocs from Alabama) also has wavy, albeit very short, hair. Perhaps it’s a job requirement because Amanda, who used to work for the company and stayed after she moved here for the job, also has long curly brown hair. In fact, her hair may be half the length of her body.

Jess told me she met her husband as a deckhand. I said a quick prayer, Lord may that not be me. I am prepared to leave for Peace Corps in September. I leave

We arrived to the office, got off the boat with my stuff, was alerted to the sewage dump housed behind a bright red floating shed thing. We went into the office, I got a quick tour, gathered my bags again and went to Danielle’s car (her boyfriend Matt’s car- an orange Xterra). She drove me 1 mile to Amanda’s house.

Danielle introduced me to the town as we drove past it on Tongass Avenue: The five docks are on your left (I said- Oh, but I will just be using our dock right? She said “No Actually” as in Quite the Opposite and I wondered for a second if she thought I was a buffoon but I didn’t entertain it too long. That would have been buffonery. Then we drove to the house and she called Jess to make sure we were at the right one. Not she nor Jess knew the address (when I asked them over text), but they both knew where the house was. In Atlanta that would be a physical impossibility. “No idea what the number is, but just look for the green one off Mt. Paran” would not pass muster but pass just about everything else. Danielle made sure that the key opened the door, directed me to the Walmart (go back to Tongass and take a right) and left. “I’ll text you later if we do anything interesting. Apparently they’ve already left Fat Stan’s because the service was slow?” (referring to Matt and Molly).

My Lodging: 

Who is Amanda? We went to college together and haven’t seen each other in 10 years. But I’m staying at her house and I’ve never met her husband, I don’t know what car she drives, or much of anything new about her since college. But that will soon change. She and her husband left for their wedding and honeymoon, and they won’t be back for 2 more weeks-ish. In the meantime, I have free reign of his (quite large) gray truck, their house and refrigerator. I could stock it full of eggplant: power!

I wandered into the house like a mouse into their new matchbox, sniffing corners, surveying doorways, climbing the steps and drawing conclusions as we all do in new houses. It was freezing, naturally, because it had already been empty for a week while my friends were off getting married in California. Because I was just in my sister’s wedding, I could feel the calm after the storm. I know the frenzy of a big event like that and the fetal position that follows it. I saw sets of keys on the dining table, a water bottle a tote bag and a red and black sharpie. There was a cleaning list and a picked-off golden sticker. The leftovers from packing and then exhaling your life.

I found my room (I’m assuming it was mine because it wasn’t there’s) and I saw a panel on the wall the same color paint as the wall. I switched it on, must be a weird heater. Since my bag was in Vegas, I had the clothes on my body to sleep in (button down denim top and black leggings). My coat was in Vegas, but thankfully I wore my rain boots for the full day of travel (easy to take off in security lines- three times in one day).

Groceries: 

I go to Walmart, notice how expensive the four rows of pantry items are, and hand-select my staples: 40 ounces of Jif Extra Crunchy PB with 7g protein per serving, box of Wheat Thins Original, Great Value Garden Rotini (I’ve been a firm believer since college), Great Value Quick Cook Oats and 100% Whole Wheat (by Great Value). Everything else must wait, I’ve spent over $20 on this and I’m not working yet. The medical checklist for Peace Corps put a hearty dent in my checking account just before leaving Atlanta. I get lost looking for their house because I didn’t check the address (well, I sort of did but half of the numbers aren’t on the house and also, I’m terrible at directions). Eventually I circle the area three times and find it. I always get there sometime.

I take a picture of the mountains as I drive down a hill to Walmart (6 minutes away according to Google). I post to Instagram “En Route to Walmart, No Filter.”

Sleep: 

I return to my ‘home,’ eat peanut butter, take a horse pill for my ear lingering ear infection, drink water from the tap and wonder “do people here drink water from the tap?” and fall horizontal onto my bed. I find an extra blanket in the house because my denim shirt is not thick, I brush my teeth with a toothbrush and no paste (in Vegas) and lay back down. There’s not a lamp by the bed so I use my trusty flashlight on my phone. I think I talked to Amber on the phone about how I couldn’t find the wifi code and I was in a panic and I knew I was going to be stranded, I just had a feeling, and of course, I already texted my family to tell them I had arrived (and that I got picked up by a boat). I already noted that the house was a work in progress and wondered when they bought it and if they would want help with decorating: my favorite. But I also know I’ll be working 6 days a week and won’t feel like moving on my day off. Or any time I’m not working.

 

I am comforted and comfortable with my two travel-sized smoosh pillows (one round, one a square) and my next task presents itself: judging the mattress. To my deep-hearted gratitude and satisfaction, it passes with flying colors. As I embrace sleep with open arms, rain begins to fall in quiet Ketchikan. I’m in a semi-stranger’s house with one bag, one summer ahead and my toothpaste should get here the next day.

It’s a gorgeous sleep: I wake up at Noon the next day (which is 4pm at home) and I think: great, I just sleep in everywhere no matter what time my body thinks it is. This will make 6am call times at work easy as spooning a hedgehog. But I don’t really care. I love sleep.