Return to Aniak

Too many years had passed since I left Aniak without returning to visit.

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Since I left Aniak coronavirus lockdowns, airline bankruptcies, inflation, and other worldly factors kept me from returning. There were also many personal factors keeping me from reaching the remote Alaskan village.

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I always had, and still have, a sense of longing for Aniak. When I am away it is where I want to be. When I am there, I want to be anywhere but.

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One unseasonably warm January I returned to Aniak. The former airline that was the lifeblood of the community was no longer, and the only passenger service was now via Ryan Air, who only flew Monday through Friday.

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Ryan Air is located near the main airport in Anchorage but is not a part of the main terminal. It has its own building and uses considerably smaller planes…between six and eight passengers.

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The one thing I miss about Aniak and Alaska in general is the sense of community. When I walked into the Ryan Air building, I knew everybody inside and they knew me. Many hugs were exchanged as I had not seen these people in years.

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One thing that I do not miss about living in the Alaskan bush is being in close quarters with death. It is ever present. So many deaths. Most unnecessary. There are many ways to die in Alaska.

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Half the plane was filled with family members heading to Aniak for a funeral. A woman my age died from a heart attack…at an age that a heart attack should not be an issue. And of course, I knew the woman who died. I was in Aniak for one week and there were two funerals. A village of 500.

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The mid-morning was pitch black as we boarded the plane and headed west. As the light illuminated the landscape below, I recognized every inch of the land I used to fly over so often. The mountains, the rivers, the villages. Not a lot of snow on the ground for January. A lot of bare ground.

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Landing in Aniak at sunrise, around 11 a.m., the sun peeked out from below the earth to illuminate the trees and light snow cover.

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Entering the small Aniak airport building, again, seeing everyone I knew, saying hello, hugging.

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Someone who I was very close to picked me up from the airport, and I am very thankful that this person is still a part of my life even through a very terrible time we experienced.

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I stayed at a friend’s former house that was now a short-term rental, which is actually something that Aniak was in need of.

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That day I walked around town. The only things that had changed were the landing strip and the school, which was now one building instead of a separate building for elementary and secondary.

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That weekend friends and former coworkers held a social gathering and game night, and I felt right at home again. In the village a person has to be close to people to survive. Otherwise, you are nothing. You will not survive. The wilderness will eat you alive.

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We went out at night and drove the ice road in search of the Northern Lights, and, unfortunately for me, the Northern Lights did not make an appearance the entire trip. But they had the week before I was there and the week after.

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Also that week I walked more than 30 miles on the winter trails leading out of Aniak. It was great alone time. For the majority of the trip, the weather was warm and the sky was clear. I love January there, actually. For most of the day, the sky is in everlasting sunrise or sunset, depending on one’s perspective.

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The sun rises low, moves across the sky low, and then disappears fast.

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One interesting note…I saw a Northern pygmy-owl…and it’s not supposed to be in western Alaska. The week before I arrived, there were extremely strong winds from the southeast, in the direction of the owl’s natural territory. I wonder if the prevailing winds blew it all the way to Aniak.

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As before, I was sad to leave Aniak and my friends again. But I love the place I live now.

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I flew out Friday and those strong southeast winds returned. Thankfully, Aniak’s runway faces southeast, so we made it out. But…on the approach into Anchorage…we were tossed around in the sky like we were nothing. I thought I was going to throw up.

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My flight back to the Lower 48 did not leave until midnight Sunday, so I had the weekend in the Anchorage area. I visited one of my favorite places, the Eagle River Nature Center, and watched the sunrise there by the river as the first glimmer of the day turned the mountaintops a pleasant shade of purple.