The Funny Thing About Naknek...

This afternoon I was having lunch in the mess hall with one of the gentlemen from the AGS Corporate office. Not much of a talker, and not seemingly thrilled by the fishing industry, I searched for topics to cultivate conversation. Naturally, the conversation turned to travel. A well traveled man, I was curious to see what he thought about the world. I asked him where his favorite place to travel was, where he liked to go with his family, where he preferred to go alone, and last where was the strangest place he'd ever been. His prior answers had been so rapid I was barely able to ask the questions, mumbling answers about places I'd never heard so quietly and indifferently I struggled to pay attention. But on this last question, he paused. It was the pause that caught my attention. Had he mumbled his answer, the impact would not have been the same. "Here" he replied, plainly but with absolute definity. "This is by far the strangest place I've ever been, it's just...odd." I didn't push him to much more, he already seemed uncomfortable with lengthy conversation.
We piddled about the weather and how much paperwork followed the arrival of the cannery workers, finished our carrot cake slices and walked back to the office so far apart that we may as well have been walking in different directions.

But he was right. Naknek is strange. odd. funny.

The roads, mostly dirt, save the one highway, lead only to buildings, as if the buildings were the first to arrive.The waves in the small stretch of highway mirror those of it's tidal output along which it runs. The post office is not so much a depository for letters as it is a community hall. Broken down signs promise tourist attractions that have been closed for decades.

And the people. The people are characters are straight out of a Ray Bradbury book. Quirky, friendly, and odd. The Bartender also works at the hardware store down the road. The checkout girl at the trading store is a musician, a seasonal worker and a freight company secretary. When they speak with you their faces rest in an almost-smile, not because they particularly like you, but because their town is so diluted with strangers, that it is a habitual politeness. It's not that the people are inherently odd, it is Naknek. Naknek demands oddity as an evolution of survival.

There is an atmosphere of tired tradition here. Newness is constant and yet, caught in a warp, the town has a laid back regularity to the seemingly odd movements of both the people and the town. It is a curious situation, and I must agree with my co-worker, that Naknek is the strangest place I've ever been.