I couldn't think of a more appropriate title for this little blog as I look out over the Pacific to the glorious and wet Tongass National (Rain) Forest from my family home in Ketchikan. Although it is summer, it continues to rain frequently contributing to the 200 inches of rain Ketchikan receives annually. To put that in perspective – we often think of Seattle as a rainy city and yet they enjoy only 32 inches of rain per year. It is late in the afternoon – in Scotland they call this time of day “in the gloaming” and it is my favorite. Although it will not set until after 10 p.m. tonight, the sun is resting in that late afternoon haze and all feels peaceful and calm.
A long straight drop below my window, I see four huge brightly-colored cruise ships docked at Ketchikan’s new state of the art docking facility filled with bustling tourists donning their parkas to brave our brutal 60 degree weather. Since the logging industry was brought to a screeching halt, Ketchikan had to look for other means to survive and tourism was the savior. While grateful for the folks who visit the island from places all over the world, I am saddened to see the foreign tourist stores that have popped up, which I feel mar the downtown area of this quaint little fishing town. Local vendors must compete with Columbia Emeralds, Little Switzerland and British, Russian and Armenian-run trades who sell totem poles and other such “Alaskan” products which were made in China. These store owners simply follow the tourist trade anywhere, have no vested interest in the community and hightail it out of Ketchikan as soon as the tourist season ends. Nevertheless, the discriminating traveler will discover the new polar bear seal that is applied to all products that are made in Alaska and are usually sold by local merchants.
Looking past the cruise ships, the channel (ocean protected from the open sea by a string of neighboring islands) is teeming with activity as the float planes drone on their take-off to nearby Southeast Alaska communities, delivering mail, grocery goods and news to the residents. Fishing boats of all shapes and sizes cruise across the sparkling sea capturing the delicacies beneath the waves to distribute to eager seafood lovers around the world. The killer whales are frolicking - there are 15 babies in this pod, more than we've seen in a very long time. The fishermen aren't terribly thrilled about it however as the increase in babies is directly related to the fewer salmon they are catching this year. Just to the right of my window I see a bald eagle resting on a branch of the evergreens surrounding our house. Bald eagles are massive up close and she keeps her keen eye on the water ready to pick up any salmon the killer whales may have missed.
As I look north down the channel I see the steeple of the First Lutheran Church that the seafaring Norwegians who settled in these islands built back in the early part of the 20th century. The eagles are fond of sitting on the cross on the highest point of the steeple and my grandmother always use to smile when she saw this and called it “religious freedom.”
Just past the church I look across at the island called Gravina which houses the airport servicing all of the local communities. Readers may know Gravina as “nowhere” from the infamous "bridge to nowhere" controversy a few years back. Yes, that is my hometown - Nowhere, Alaska. I'd say nowhere looks pretty spectacular from where I sit.
