Taylor Balkom Photography

By TAYLOR BALKOM

I wasn’t expecting to visit Ketchikan this year. 

COVID-19 put my freelance photojournalist self out of work quickly in March when every event everywhere was promptly cancelled. That effectively ruled out buying an expensive plane ticket to Alaska, even if I didn’t have concerns about travel in the middle of a global pandemic.

But things have, somewhat, changed. 

Let me be very clear — the virus is still very much around, and it is spreading — but studies have shown mask-wearing to be an effective way of curtailing the spread of COVID-19. That coupled with rigorous hand-washing and social distancing slows the virus down. 

So with an unfortunate death in my partner’s family, we decided to come up for the services. 

Thankfully, Alaska has mandatory testing (or proof of a test no more than five days before arrival in Alaska) for out-of-state visitors. Widespread and consistent testing is the only way to understand the scope of the virus’s spread. 

With that knowledge in tow, my girlfriend and I ventured into Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Masks are mandatory throughout SeaTac and I was happy to see everyone I passed complying. Travelers flying out of the Pacific Northwest’s largest airport are bombarded with reminders about social distancing and hand-washing. Sanitization dispensers are numerous and spread throughout.

The most striking thing about this stage of travel was how normal it felt, besides the masks and marking tape. SeaTac was definitely less crowded than I’d expect for an early July weekend, but there were still a decent amount of people in the terminals. 

There was even a group of extremely loud fishermen and women on our flight up — a sure sign you’re headed to Alaska in the summertime.

Our flight was well below capacity with room for everyone to spread out across the rows if they wanted. It’s impossible to follow six-foot social distancing guidelines in the cabin of an airplane, but we did what we could.

Upon landing, Alaska Air staff and Ketchikan International Airport employees pointed everyone either downstairs to submit their traveler declaration form or to the ferry for testing on the town side of the Tongass Narrows.

That is where any semblance of a routine trip ended — and I haven’t even gotten to the six-inch probe up my right nostril to test for COVID-19. 

The hustle and bustle of a Ketchikan summer is gone. With no tourists flooding downtown and crowding the sidewalks, the city has retained its sleepy winter appearance. 

I’m not from Ketchikan, so I don’t yearn for the days of smaller cruise ships and quieter streets. Heading across the Narrows without a large boat in sight genuinely made me sad. The city boy in me loved the crowds on Creek Street and on the berths, even when it slowed my evening jogs. 

Tourists also made my job at the Ketchikan Daily News easier. People make for the best photos and finding a quick feature shot for the paper was  more of a breeze in the summer.

All of that is gone, for this year at least. I certainly understand the appeal of Ketchikan without a cruise season, but I miss it.

The COVID-19 test itself was somehow both worse than and not as bad as I expected. My eyes never watered but it was quite an uncomfortable feeling having a swab inserted so far up my nostril. I was never the kid who shoved rocks up his nose so I had nothing to compare it to.

Two-and-a-half days after we arrived, I got my negative result and was cleared to reenter society as much as one can in this day and age.

I wish I could hug every person I know in Ketchikan. Y’all have been through a lot this year — be it the Tatsuda’s landslide, Alaska Marine Highway System shutdowns, COVID or even this miserably wet summer. 

Making it through another day feels like a victory in 2020. And despite everything going on, Ketchikan still feels like the Ketchikan I know and love. I’m incredibly grateful for that. 

I just hope that next year, I’ll be able to give out the hugs I can’t right now.