The ferry ride from Homer had been a long one, almost 37 hours.  From the deck of the ferry, the shoreline was barely visible through the heavy fog and mist, so I was glad to know the ride was almost over for me.  The captain had announced that we were arriving at Chignik within the half hour, so I grabbed my flannel jacket and stood at the bow, waiting for my first glimpse of the small fishing port that I had heard so much about.

Someone pointed towards the shore. “There’s Chignik!”

I squinted and tried to see what they were talking about, but all I could see were a few buildings at the dock.  I was about to ask where the town was when I realized that I was looking at it – if you could call it a town.

The mountains surrounding Chignik were brown with dormant vegetation and covered in snow from the long winter behind. Now seeing the waterfalls cascading down the side of the cliffs told me that it was melting in the warming temperatures.  As we got closer, I began to make out a few buildings hidden in the recesses of the bay.  While I had been told by many people that Chignik Bay was small, I was still taken aback by just how little was there.  There were no restaurants, no bars, just one small store in a warehouse building, and the Trident Seafoods operations center.  A few small buildings that I assumed were houses were scattered around the area.

I walked down the ramp to the dock where there were about 20 people (about ¼ of the towns total population) standing around on the dock waiting to see arriving family, friends, or crew members.  I stood on the dock with my duffel bag and backpack, waiting for my captain, Axel, and watching as one by one the people on the dock disappeared into the fog.

Where they were going, I have no idea, because I was pretty sure that I could see every single building in the town from where I stood.

Axel finally emerged from the ferry with his vehicle and family, and pointed out to me the boat his dad owned that lay next to the dock, and told me to make myself comfortable while he got moved into his apartment.  He drove off down the dock and for the first time I was overwhelmed with a sense of being completely alone in Alaska.

I walked over to the edge of the dock and threw my gear down onto the deck of the Kimberly, a 58’ fishing boat, and explored the boat for a bit before settling onto a bench in the galley.  I was in a strange and unfamiliar town with absolutely nothing to do, nowhere to go, and I knew no one.   I was in Chignik, my home for the next 4 months.