Living in Alaska — A Ketchikan Story

Written by One Real Human for All Humans

Photograph by Author — Donut Shop and Castle in the Background Look Carefully

I left San Francisco, California, on my bicycle two years ago. I left at 4 am on June 11th. The City was quiet as I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. The City slept, and I did not wave goodbye to my home of twenty-plus years. I thought I would be home in a month or two. That was the plan, but it did not work out that way.

Two years later, I woke up in Ketchikan, Alaska. My new home is an apartment I affectionately call my castle, but it is just a tiny convenient spot downtown. I like it well enough; you can smell donuts cooking downstairs as I wake at dawn. It is different from the bakeries in South Beach, but the true Italian Bakeries moved long ago. The City became too expensive for baking bread.

I did not leave my beloved City by the Bay because no bakeries were left. I left for an adventure; I wanted to see my Fiftieth State. I had been to all forty-nine other states at one point but never to Alaska. The opportunity arose, and I seized the day, the week, then the month, and two years later, I am still seizing the days.

I could write for hours about why I chose not to return to San Francisco. I would rather focus on the more positive aspect of why I chose to stay in Alaska. San Francisco has made the News repeatedly for its myriad of problems downtown. I lived literally and figuratively at ground zero for problems. I lived across the street from Glide Church which serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner to the homeless population. You cannot get closer to the problem than the free soup line.

Ultimately it was not the problems in San Francisco that weighed my decision to move to Alaska. It was Alaska itself. I arrived in Alaska with a job offer, and in the first 24 hours of arriving in Ketchikan, I had three more job offers. Opportunity, environment, and quality of life swayed me to stay.

Photograph by Author of Author — Life in Ketchikan, Alaska

Perspective is everything, so my quality of life was influenced heavily by what I experienced in San Francisco. If you live in an environment surrounded by drugs, sex, and crime on the street, it is easy to see why my perspective of a sleepy little island town in Alaska might weigh heavily on my decision. In San Francisco, I saw crime daily, drugs everywhere, and sex on the sidewalk. Not a pretty picture.

I do not lock my car doors in Ketchikan for a different reason than in San Francisco. In the City, we leave our cars unlocked because it costs $500 to replace a broken window. That gets expensive when it happens once or twice a month. Better to leave the car unlocked. That way, if a thief wants to rifle your car, he can do so without costing you a new window.

I haven’t locked my truck in two years and have not lost anything to crime. I left my bicycle unlocked for an hour while in Walmart. I did not worry about it being stolen. I live on an Island; it would be hard to fence my e-bike here. The thief would be arrested the first time it was seen in public. Half the people on the Island know my bike by sight; it would be hard to disguise and sell in town.

I like the town spirit. High School sports are celebrated events, with town participation and local news coverage. It makes me feel good to live in a small town. I cannot go anywhere without seeing somebody I know. It keeps you honest and makes you more responsible. You watch each other’s back, and good manners are essential. Once you have a bad reputation, it is hard to shake. Everyone knows your business, so you had best keep your hands clean.

It is much different from the free for all in San Francisco, where the criminals rove the streets at night with crowbars looking for opportunity. If you lived in my town and were seen breaking into cars and businesses with a crowbar, you would probably be shot before being arrested. The hunters and fishermen would not stand for that behavior for a second — one and done for the criminals in Ketchikan, Alaska. In San Francisco, they believe in catch and release. It is a miracle if you get anything more than a ticket for breaking and entering. In Ketchikan, you pray the police arrest you before the locals hunt you down.

Photograph by Author — One of my favorite destinations in Ketchikan, Alaska

Alaska is different from San Francisco. Night and day, you might say. When the opportunity arose to move here, it took a long day and night to think it over. My decision was made weeks before, but I could still back out. I signed a new lease for an apartment the next day. I accepted a temporary job before my permanent one started. I called my boss back in San Francisco and told him I wasn’t coming back. I called my apartment building manager in San Francisco and told her I would return in a few months. I visited the Alaska DMV and found a new doctor, dentist, and haircutter. Moving is stressful; it takes a lot of work, determination, and follow-through.

I have lived in Alaska for two years now. The hard part is over, but much room remains for improvement. I have made new friends, acquaintances, hangouts, and favorite haunts. I go to the movies often; the theater manager calls me Steve. I never knew a theater manager before moving to Ketchikan. I have a new favorite restaurant, a new favorite pizza place. I found new trails to ride my Mountain Bike and new lakes, rivers, and bays to kayak, fish, and swim.

These discoveries came with adventurous stories, heartaches, hardships, etc. Nothing is easy in my life; living in Alaska comes with a cost. Moving to a new state in the far northern reaches of Earth has changed more than my wardrobe. Long winter nights, darkness, and biorhythm changes come with the territory. Light deprivation syndrome is followed up by long spring and summer nights. Twenty-four hours of sunlight warps the mind, body, and soul. Seeing the sun rise and set at the same time is something you must see to believe. It is easy to misplace time when it is light twenty-four hours a day. The sunlight tells you it is noon at eight pm. It energizes your mind when the body says enough already, and then winter returns. It lulls you to sleep at six pm.

Photograph by Author — Rooftop view M.V. Columbia Crossing into US waters from Canada at dawn, flag duty.

I finally got a fishing license but I still need to buy a fishing pole. I will in due time; meanwhile, I borrow friends and co-workers. There are plenty of fishing poles in Alaska. Plenty of fish are in the ocean, rivers, streams, bays, and lakes. We are a popular destination for fishers. We are popular with hunters. I am not a hunter, but I have tasted moose meat and reindeer sausages. I like buffalo burgers better, but I am only two years into my Alaskan lifestyle; maybe my taste buds will change too.

I have a job that allows me to travel up and down the state of Alaska. I have often traveled from Kodiak, the Kenai, and Whittier through the Inside Passage to Bellingham, Washington. I still ooh and awe at the majestic beauty of the waterways surrounded by high mountains capped with snow year-round. I have seen hundreds of whales, seals, sea otters, and porpoises. They are my friends and companions. I find myself chatting with them when off watch. They are good listeners except when they are hungry and looking for dinner. Then they are like humans; let me eat first, then we can talk.

The overall synopsis is this, Alaska has been good for the Author. Physically, mentally, and financially things are improving. I led a healthy lifestyle in San Francisco, but I was surrounded by tall buildings blocking sunlight and a view of anything other than homeless people on the street below me. Getting to Golden Gate Park, the Presidio, or Marina Green took some doing. To get a dose of nature, I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and spent the day in my old stomping grounds of youth. Marin County has open areas, Redwood forests, and mountain lakes tucked into Mt. Talmalpais.

Photograph by Author — Two Year Anniversary Moving to Alaska started here.

I plan to move to the State Capital of Juneau next year. There is more opportunity in Juneau to grow and plan my future. I love Ketchikan, but the small seasonal town has limitations that are hard on a City Boy. I still like my Café Mocha’s year-round and not just during tourist season. The creature comforts of City life cannot be ignored long-term. I also like the abundance of trails for riding my mountain bike and hiking. Housing in Alaska is expensive, and Ketchikan is probably the most expensive town in Alaska. Finding reasonable housing is challenging unless you have several million dollars in your left pocket and the right full of gold coins. This keeps the starving artist-writer in his tiny castle above the donut shop in downtown Ketchikan. I am not complaining; just stating the facts as I see them.

Thank you for reading my two-year anniversary blog on Living in Alaska. It is an adventure and then some. From Ketchikan, Alaska, with love on my Second Year Anniversary.