Seldovia: City of Secluded Charm
There are many places in Alaska that feel like you’ve just stepped onto another plane of existence. Places that make you ask yourself, “Is this real?” Seldovia is one of those places.
There are many places in Alaska that feel like you’ve just stepped onto another plane of existence. Places that make you ask yourself, “Is this real?”
Seldovia is one of those places. The first time I visited, I stepped off the ferry onto the sun-bathed dock. I was greeted with the sound of music carried on the soft breeze from shore. A man was sitting peacefully in the shade with two dogs playing a wooden flute. It was a moment so vivid and peaceful that I can picture it clearly to this day. An intrinsically coastal community, Seldovia’s connection to the ocean presents itself in every direction. From boats stored neatly in driveways to art made from marine equipment.
The Seldovia area is the traditional homeland of the Sugpiaq people. I encourage you to learn more at Travel Alaska and learn about the unique history and culture of the Seldovia Village Tribe.
Where this road leads…
16,000 miles in Dimitri’s Honda Civic. 16,000 miles to contemplate the lives, memories, and experiences streaking past the window outside as we drove from town to town. It’s a lot of time and distance to think. We often found ourselves in quiet pockets of the country between cities. Where the road looked like it would stretch on forever, and the only decision to make was when we should continue on our way. A state of such simplicity that if someone were to ask me where we were going, I’d be inclined to raise a hand and point out to the horizon and plainly say, “that way”.
16,000 miles in Dimitri’s Honda Civic. 16,000 miles to contemplate the lives, memories, and experiences streaking past the window outside as we drove from town to town. It’s a lot of time and distance to think. We often found ourselves in quiet pockets of the country between cities. Where the road looked like it would stretch on forever, and the only decision to make was when we should continue on our way. A state of such simplicity that if someone were to ask me where we were going, I’d be inclined to raise a hand and point out to the horizon and plainly say, “that way”.
In pursuit of light
An 11 pm text that it’s time to go. A flurry of activity to grab warm clothes, gear, and our flashlights. A mad dash back into the valley. Then silence. Then waiting.
An 11 pm text that it’s time to go. A flurry of activity to grab warm clothes, gear, and our flashlights. A mad dash back into the valley. Then silence. Then waiting.
In pursuit of the aurora, Dimitri, Teo, and I spent yet another night standing under crystal clear skies, our toes cold and eyes wide. So much hurry and bluster to get here, only to stand motionless, quiet, waiting. Waiting for the aurora, yes, our communicated goal. But unsaid, somewhere deep down, a hope that it won’t show. So that we may have another night, another reason to get together and pursue again.
But the lights did show. A show indeed. The expansive sky, its stage. The mountains, its props, and the aurora, the lead character in a play that has been running for the entirety of this planet’s existence. No one dares speak, except for the incoherent gasps and shrieks, unable to be contained under the watchful eye above.
It’s been a while since I've made a pursuit to see these lights. The others in that jeep have since moved away, and things feel different. But I find comfort in knowing the aurora is weaving its way through star and sky, whether I’m watching or not. And when I do make my pursuit again, to find myself under a sea of green ribbons, I’ll be ushered back to this night where we pursued light in the dark and cold backdrop of winter. Light found beyond those above us.
How do we define “Home”?
Is home where you're from, or is it the place that provides space for you to be your truest self? Is it even a place? Does it exist sincerely in the moments between moments? Woven into the fabric of your being so intricately that it challenges your ability to pinpoint one spot on a map when you’re asked.
Is home where you're from, or is it the place that provides space for you to be your truest self? Is it even a place? Does it exist sincerely in the moments between moments? Woven into the fabric of your being so intricately that it challenges your ability to pinpoint one spot on a map when you’re asked.
Can it be named, or can it only truly be felt? For me, it is Alaska, I believe. Not because it’s where the majority of my existence has taken place, or because I can visualize the roads as I trace them. It’s Alaska because it is here, in both physical and emotional forms, that I have found myself. Through which I have found those who share with me the joys and pains and chaos of this existence, and through which they have found me. Its grandness reaches far beyond the expansive mountain ranges and endless streams. Its grandness reaches deep within those who invite it in and knocks firmly on the door of those not yet ready or able to accept it. I have accepted it, and with that acceptance, it has accepted me.
This community, this place, these moments exist with me and I with them. It is this home that offers wide-open space to run through and, at the same time, intimate moments to look inward.
Will Alaska continue to be “home” when I leave, if I leave? At the present moment, I’m inclined to say yes. Perhaps because its familiarity is comforting, tangible. A welcoming embrace. Like getting off the airplane and seeing your friend there to greet you. But perhaps “home” exists as a giant tarp under which all the lived experiences, connections, and values that have collided to shape me are held.
I’m also inclined to believe that Alaska, as a place, a concept, an energy, is unique in the context of “home”. I humbly recognize my bias in that inclination and furiously cast aside that humbleness when the reel of memories made and witnessed here flashes in my head. I believe Alaska deserves it, and it demands it.
I’ve met many people who have found themselves in Alaska. People who traveled from afar, running from, searching for, or happening upon an existence. For them, home may still be the place they came from, and Alaska exists to hold them steadily until they’re ready to return there.
Maybe that’s how we define it. An existence that holds you, if not forever, for now. For as long as you’re willing to allow it. Sharing your values, knowledge, and presence with a force that asks nothing of you but to be.