It's not pouring rain, and I wouldn't even call it a drizzle. At this point, it's maybe spitting? It's trying? Whatever you call it, this is more the norm that all of the sunshine here in Ketchikan, a place that averages between 152 and 180 inches of precipitation a year. It's so much easier to sleep with the rain gently tapping on the roof of the BattleWagon. It drowns out all of the potentially corrupiting noises of the outside world. I would guess it's like being in the womb.
I sent this picture to a friend back home, and I figured I'd share it with everyone. This is a local beach near town. The beaches here aren't sandy like they are down south. They're gravelly and rocky. It's cool all the same, a good feeling of isolation and resignation to the higher powers in place. Just you, the ocean, some trees, distant boats and planes... pretty nice.
didn't know that the bald eagles who weren't mature were all brown with light spots. Crazy. These juveniles are as big as the adults, too! They're loud when they fly over!
This is a shot of Carlanna Lake, a quick, five-minute hike from Ketchikan. A popular fishing spot, it has a very well-built trail around the entire south side of it. It's an old reservoir, and the trail starts at the dam and ends at the inlet 
creek. This quick walk takes you through a thick, old-growth forest and has very nice bridges and edging throughout, including three docks out on the lake itself for fishing. Next to the trail, there's a few of these big, fallen trees, the bottoms of which are 10-15 feet all and covered in moss. This is a rainforest, and it doesn't take nature long to virtually swallow everything that's out of place.
Last weekend, my new boss took me out fishing on his boat. I didn't actually fish, though. I didn't buy a lisence or anything. I just went along for the pictures. I got one looking out the back of his 
skiff, and I took a picture of Guard Island, where the local lighthouse is. We didn't get really close to Guard Island, but we did see some humpback whales right off the bat, which justified the experience altogether. I didn't get any pictures, but we saw them dive, complete with tails out of the water and everything. That was pretty spectacular.
Here's another excellent sunset, this one from my second journey to the secret cabin. This time around, there were a few more bugs, but I fared just fine. We skipped the fire this time and just cooked on a little Coleman stove, which was plenty for what we did, cooking brats for dinner and frying bacon and eggs in the morning. 
Waking up in that place is always an amazing experience. I could live forever in a small place like that.
I figured this would be a good time to catch you all up on what life looks like without a consistent place to shave. I'm even letting the mustache go this time around. I've met several people with a full face of hair, and it looks like I'll be in good company. Oh, how I wish I had a new Sportsmobile...
Anyway, the weather here is fine this morning. It's 52 degrees and cool. There are four ships docked here today, including two Mercury-class ships operated by the Celebrity X cruise lines. They're big ships. One can only imagine how big the Nimitz or the Enterprise is after one of these ships. Considering the crew and guest compliment, it's almost as big as my home town, good old Salida.
Friday night was a camping-lite trip to the secret cabin. Yesterday, for breakfast, we made scrambled eggs in bacon grease. It's one of those things that hurts so good.
The local Ketchikan King Salmon Derby started yesterday, and I've noticed the town get a little quieter as the fisherman, both amateur and pro, have gone out full force to win the trophy this year. I took the opportunity to walk around town, including a stint on Water Street, an elevated concourse with houses built into the hillside. The street itself is built on scaffolding and pilings. It's a pretty spectacular view from up there, although I imagine the real estate prices reflect that.
Meanwhile, from my perch here and now, I'm watching float-planes come and go, a big ferry depart for the south, bald eagles and ravens flying around, and a seal poke its head above the surface occasionally. It's not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning, all in all.
Since I have come to Alaska, I've seen lots of new and exciting new things. I've experienced things that I never imagined i'd have the opportunity to be a part of. I've also learned things about myself that either i'd never realized before or simply had been denying.
It took a huge leap of faith for me to come to Ketchikan. It wasn't a big risk for me to live in a van in Colorado. I had friends and family and got to travel a little bit more than I would have otherwise. This, however, offered me no safeguards, no fallback. I stepped out of the airport with two backpacks and a sachel (Indiana Jones had one). I really wanted to push myself into facing some things I hadn't before.
I've learned, as a result, that there is a part of me that is, well, me, my own. There are aspects of my thoughts that can travel thousands of miles and not change. I'm figuring out that memories aren't things you take with you. Memories are things you create every day, things you collect and dust off when you want to share them with someone. When all you do is drag them around with you, you're denying yourself the opportunity to create more.
I've also learned that I'm capable of more than I thought possible. In the span of a month, starting out with next to no money, I've made friends, bought a van, been invited on adventures that I will be able to tell the next generation.
I'm thankful for this new place, for dusting off the old thoughts and helping me to remember the good excitement of youth and innocense.
Today, I snagged a picture of a sailboat, one on dozens in the Narrows today. It is a beautiful day here on Revilla Island (Revilla is short for Revillagigedo, but the locals don't mention gigedo (pr: gi-GAY-doh)). The sun is out. It's almost 60. A slight breeze. It's pretty spectacular.
Last night, a friend from work invited me to camp out. I grabbed my bag, and we hiked about a half mile to this beach, just farther up than where we'd gone last weekend. We brought tents, but didn't use them. We just slept out under the trees and the clouds. I woke up and took in a deep breath. It seems to be a reminder as to while I'm here.
I found a dog on Sunday, and I need to dedicate a whole blog to her, because she's an amazing dog. Today, I called the animal control officers and officially reported her, which means her real family could claim her any time. While this would be great for her, I'd be sad, and I'd miss her. She's loyal, smart, sweet, and chill. The only issue that I've had so far is that she doesn't get along with my boss's dog.
Now that I've reported her, I'm obligated to take her in to the authorities if nobody claims her. After 72 hours, I can offically adopt her, and then the courts are on my side. However, they need to check with my landlord or inspect my residence to make sure it's suitable for a dog. I live in a van. I don't think they'll see that as suitable. The officer sounded like it would be cool to keep things on the sly if I don't hear anything from her owners, and that would be great. But, just in case, I am writing this tribute to the dog I've had for four days and three nights, the dog that gets excited to see me, the dog that buries her muzzle under my neck while I sleep, the dog that likes hiking and plays fetch and comes when I call her.
She's named after Mount Shavano in Chaffee County, Colorado. The mountain has a prominent "angel" that forms from snow every winter. The legend goes something like how the angel looks over the valley, and every spring, as she melts, she "sheds her tears", fertilizing the valley below for the people to grow food and be healthy.
I always thought Shavano would be a great name for a dog. I just never thought I'd own a Heeler mix. I wanted to, eventually, get a Saint Bernard. Then again, a month and a half ago, I didn't even see myself living in Alaska.
So anyway, Shavano, this blog's for you. Whatever's in your future, I wish you the best. You are proof that not only do all dogs GO to heaven, they come from some place similar, too.
