Looking at the photos of Ketchickan, Alaska

I was looking at photos of Ketchikan, Alaska, where I lived for almost three years. I was thinking of buying some, to remind me of that magical place. I began watching the slide show, searching for the "just right" one that I might buy, when I began to drift, in and out of the photo, remembering the aliveness of the place, the magic of the place, the complete absolute drop-dead -stunning-crystal-sparkles-in-your-eye-beauty of that place. Suddenly I am back there, watching the gulls diving for scraps of bread on the beach. I am watching the fog roll in, dancing shimmering tall willowy figures walking down the mountains. Spirit-filled fog that you can feel, so thick you think it is smoke. When Fog Woman comes walking everyone knows. The mists rise with a sigh, to be replaced suddenly by the thick,heavy I-can't-see-my-way-home fog. She is present still, watching over her people, just out of sight, just a breath away. And a red Pacific Salmon jumps in the stillness, in and out of time. We tell her story to the tourists. They think she is a "myth". When you live there you will know.

When I was a child, I used to dream about a magical island, shrouded in mists. I learned later it was Avalon, the mythic island of the celts, near Glastonbury Tor, most ancient and sacred place in Europe. And when I was in mid-life I followed my dreams on a four thousand mile journey that left me in Alaska, on a small island in the middle of the largest rainforest in the world. And this is a piece of my true story.