Thoughts on Community

I've had ten days by myself in Sitka while Glenda flew east to attend a conference.

This was the week of the Orlando tragedy.

Each morning, I have ridden my bike to a quiet little coffee shop in this small town of 9000 souls. I would spend 2-3 hours writing, while observing the interactions of customers. A few moments ago, a pretty young woman, whom I had seen the previous day as well, came into the shop with a friend. Wearing jeans, a work shirt, her long brown hair braided down her back, she looked every bit the part of an Alaskan. From overheard conversations I learned that she was raised in Sitka, but had moved  south to Washington State for work. She was returning for a visit to her home town after having been gone for a year.

What struck me was how, as people lined up to order coffee, every third or fourth person recognized her. She was kept constantly busy, barely having time for her own coffee, hugging each acquaintance, chatting a few minutes, catching up with news of a friend from high school, a teacher, a relative. The variety of friends were as varied as anywhere in the world: white, native, black, asian.

Every third or fourth person.

Two days in a row.

It struck me how too many of us in our nation haven't ever experienced the warmth and acceptance that can come from living in community--whether an actual small town or a virtual one. Instead, too many lead isolated lives, claiming a few friends from work, a spouse, a child or two, lost among the anonymous box stores and caught up in the fear-inducing miasma of the media.

Sitka is a town that has nothing but smiles for strangers. In ten short days, I feel at home here, welcomed by fellow boaters, commercial fishermen, people who love my little Brompton folding bike, or new-found friends attending the 45th annual Sitka Classical Music Festival. Sitka: a place carved from the wilderness, accustomed to the daily appearance of bears, a community that embraces rather than fears "the other."

There is a lesson here. I'm sure of it.

This same week, Glenda sent me a link to this wonderful video. A group of young people from different countries, many of them nation states that "hate" one another, submit to genetic testing--and learn the ultimate human lesson, that we are all truly one big family.

This world, and our own imperfect country, are so much better than we are led to believe.

Just a few photos this blog--most of them iPhone portraits of the beautiful setting the residents of my favorite little town in SE Alaska enjoy every day.

Be well,

Peter

Mouth of Indian River south of town.

Eastern Anchorage south of town

Swan Lake less than a quarter mile from "down town" (Yes. Swan Lake.)

From my dock looking east

An old halibut schooner

You have to wait a long time to catch the sunset this time of year.

But it's often well worth the wait

Petersburg to Juneau to Sitka

Ron and Pam joined Michael and Jane in Petersburg. Six people in about 300 square feet of boat- and nothing but laughter all day long. Not to mention a birthday bash to beat all. Janes’s 60th (5/26) celebrated on remote Brothers Islands amongst whales, sea lions and a flock of pigeon Guillemot, Ron's 69th (May 28) celebrated in Taku Bay after cavorting with ice and eagles, and my 69th (May 29th) in Juneau at a fabulous new restaurant called Salt. By the way, Ron and I have been friends since med school, starting in 1969. And we were born just one day apart. So this was a very special  and magical week.

Beached seiner outside Petersburg.

Bell Buoy marking the end of Wrangell Narrows.
How the heck did the little sea lion get up there?

Lots of humpback flukes in Frederick Sound

And a large sea lion rookery outside Brothers Islands

We watched a big flock of Pigeon Guillemots in the morning. Love the red feet.

Ice too packed to make it up Tracy Arm to glacier, but we loved Tracy Arm Cove

Lots of bergy bits and growlers (smaller icebergs) outside the cove. One came in during the night.

I can't resist photographing eagles on ice. Blue icebergs are more highly compressed, so they absorb some of the colors of the sun. Beautiful.

No Photoshop. The ice really was this blue.

The second it's warm our yoga team goes at it on the foredeck.
(Michael and I were driving the boat. Somebody had to do it!)

In Juneau we had to bid farewell to our Inside Passage buddies Jane and Michael. Four weeks which seemed like about four days. Ron and Pam continued with us to Sitka via Hoonah, Tenakee Springs, Ell Cove, and Baby Bear Cove. We lost one great chef when Michael left, but gained another in Pam. Let's just say that I think we've put the cruise ships to shame when it comes to cuisine. Either that, or like camping, everything just tastes better on the water.

Our little dock in downtown Juneau. Can you spot our boat?

This guy was sitting at the top of the dock ramp.

This guy was right in front of us. Just for kicks, Google Crown Princess accident.
Can you imagine this thing listing 20 degrees? Lots of injuries.

From Juneau, we spent two days near Hoonah searching for whales. It's a little early in the season, but we did see a number of singletons, one of which breached repeatedly, but too far in the distance to get any good shots. The main event was dramatic skies in Chatham Strait due to a pending storm.

Heading towards Hoonah. Aren't they cute?

Panorama to give a sense of typical day, but clouds gathering...

I love the drama of black and white.

You can see the leading edge of the front. But we still had sun until just before reaching Ell Cove.

So now is as good a time as any to mention our big highlight. We tucked into tiny Ell Cove (it's shaped like an "L") along with three other boats, including our buddies on Alpenglow, to escape 35 knot winds four days ago. I sleep with an open port right above my head, and at four in the morning I was awakened by a loud "blow" practically in my ear. (No, it wasn't Glenda being frisky.) A humpback had entered our miniature harbor. Remember, these guys are up to 50ft and 50,000 pounds! We raced up on deck and spent an incredible 15 minutes watching her swim between our boats, one time lunging up out of the water with open mouth. I took a bunch of pictures, only to realize afterwards that I had mis-set the camera! But I've doctored up a couple of mediocre shots and included them anyway.

Waterfall outside of Ell Cove. Ron smiling.

Safely anchored. Sun breaks for about an hour before the rains and wind came.

4:30 in the morning. This is NOT shot with a long telephoto. My one good exposure.

Bad shot, but you get the idea. He was right in there mixing it up with us. Thrilling!! We were in awe.

Drone shot from Baby Bear Cove. Sergius Narrows is in the distance on the path to Sitka.

Ron kayaking--all by himself.

Peaceful Baby Bear Cove

Amazing sky in Sitka. Taken with iPhone. This is real - not Photoshopped.

I love the view of Sitka from the bridge. iPhone panorama.

Ron and Pam flew home from Sitka yesterday and I put Glenda on a plane this morning for a ten day meeting in Arkansas. I realized this afternoon that this is the first moment I've had alone in five weeks. I miss everyone, but I'm also looking forward to putting some intense revision work into my current novel.

I learned something important these past few weeks. They are beautifully summed up in an essay by Dacher Keltner that Ron found and shared. It's called "Why we Feel Awe." He describes awe as being in the presence of something vast that transcends our understanding of the world. Traveling in wilderness is certainly one way to feel in almost constant awe. And now I know that it is not only one of the most precious experiences we can have as humans, but its good for our health as well.

Be well friends. Until next time.

Peter