I've gotten lost for hours on the streets of Paris. I've slept in a hammock for weeks in the Amazon. I've witnessed the aftershock of war in Hiroshima, Pearl Harbor and Normandy. I've been one of a million people doing last-minute Christmas shopping on Rua 25 de Maio.
So is it strange that of all these unique, diverse and colorful experiences my mind should drift to one that is, literally, gray?
Welcome to Ketchikan, an island in Southeast Alaska that is rained upon about 80% of the year, adding up to an average of 152 inches of rain annually. Us locals prefer to refer to it as "liquid sunshine", so we're a little optimistic...
But you can't blame us, anybody who's seen the sun pay our town a visit cannot deny that it truly is worth the rain. Days filled with sun here are like snowflakes, no two are exactly alike. The vibrant colors that pour across the mountains and saturate the ocean at sunrise only intensify at sunset, making the rocky, seaweed-strewn beaches the perfect spot for a bonfire, an extra blanket and a fully charged camera. If you're really lucky, the light show doesn't stop there. On those nearly impossible to predict nights, the star-filled velvet sky gives way to streams of white, green, and on the rare occasion red. Seamlessly blending with the dark of the night, the aurora borealis mesmerizes all who set eyes on it, whether its their first time or 50th. It's difficult to keep count of how many times you've seen it actually, every time feels like the first time.
Another interesting aspect I should probably throw in is why so many people refer to this island as 'the rock'. It's not simply a comparison to Alcatraz of the town during the winter; dark, cold, gray, gloomy, while pictures of sunny vacations past flicker by on our computer screen savers. It's what the island is made out of, just rock. Though it's completely covered with trees and all sorts of nature, right beneath those roots that's all there is. Flat land is very rare, and the majority of it is either blasted out of rock or built up on docks over the water. Neighborhoods are packed close, but extremely spread out altitude-wise.
Another quirk of winter is to never expect a good snowfall. Where there's snow, there's a good chance of rain, and the result is an overpowering amount of slush. However for adventure seekers, a hike to the top of any mountain will guarantee pristine powder for snowboarding and skiing.
During summer, downtown explodes with tourists, cruise ships and all sorts of stores that you can find at any other cruise ship destination in the world. More information on summer activities is available to anybody looking for it online, and believe me it really is worth it to check it out, but I'll leave that for you to look in to.
This is my home, the rock, the port town, the 40 mile stretch of paved road, the salmon capital of the world. And it's waiting with open arms for you to come discover it for yourself -- that is, if you can handle gray.