Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

I know its been a while since I’ve written anything and I really apologize. My job changed courses quite suddenly and I ended up working not only in a completely new environment, but one that apparently lacked phone and internet connections. I’ve been a hermit for a few weeks, completely cut off from what I’ve dubbed civilization. Forget the gloomy down in the dumps character my last few blog posts about Sitka entailed. I’ve become a commuting blogger who works any job that comes along and experiences the full spectrum of working life. For the past few weeks I’ve been in Naknek, Alaska a tiny, person-less town on the peninsula that really only exists because of the King Salmon fishing season. I wrote everyday I worked in the plant, and even on the days that I should have foregone the laborious strides I’d taken to keep my mental record of the events attributed to a conveyor belt life.

I’ve got stories of pain and fun, boredom and darkness, pretty much anything I experienced I wrote down. Unfortunately, although I was promised an internet connection so I could update my blog every few days I received none, meaning I’m going to have to post what I wrote every few days even though I am currently done with this job as well. I’m sure you’ll get it once you get to reading. First post in a few days. I’m feeling Nak’d. More on this expression to follow in the coming posts.

Flying over the runway in King Salmon, I realized exactly how different each region of Alaska could possibly be. The cloud cover dispersed and I found myself staring at a wide grassland that looked almost like the savannah of the Lion King, just a different shade of olive drab and dark green. A river ran through it all, a wide twisting river of cascading colors and shades that made me yearn to go swimming. It was a land of lakes and puddles, of new beginnings and severing old ties.

Of course, at that moment I didn’t realize exactly how much I would be experiencing my own personal seclusion form  the outside world. The job advertisement had warned me there was no cell service and I was cool with that, who really calls me besides my mother anyways? But the website said there was also access to internet, though limited to email, rather than skype, downloads or streaming. Email is a decent connection to the outside world. I arrived here and was told email was strictly a chance occurrence, and that internet really never works. My roommate told me to hitchhike to town for the library. I told her my mother would really approve. I am currently considering the option.

I went through orientation following my brief interlude at the tin shack they called an airport and got my rain coat from the company store. I picked up a calling card too, once I realized that my mother would send the troops out to figure out why I hadn’t notified her of my safe arrival. The processing plant itself seemed pretty sweet at first glimpse, and it even smelled better than the fishing lodge I’d just left. I was surprised to say the least. But things got weird when , upon my reception, I noticed at least two distinctive and separate individuals bawling their eyes out and saying things like, “I can’t take another day of this,” or “I don’t know why I thought this was going to be a good idea.” I shrugged them off, but when I went to nap before my shift started, I found myself going over everything and wondering if I was going to break down eventually too.

My shift runs 10pm to 2pm. Today I fillet. We’ll see how I feel tomorrow.