The Last Frontier

Of all the adventures I experienced during my 14 months on the road, none was looked on with as much anticipation, and fear, as my visit to Alaska.

Father Scott Garrett invited me to come to Dillingham, a small fishing village a few hundred miles west of Anchorage on the Nushaguk Bay. He welcomed me to join him in flight as he piloted his Cherokee-Piper plane to serve the small villages in the area, places only accessible by air or sea. The thought of small-plane flying terrified me, but I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. And I’m delighted I did. Flying over the bay to the tiny town of Clarks Point was exhilarating, and by the return flight my fears had subsided completely.

I spent five days at the rectory in Dillingham, through the unrivaled courtesy of Father Scott. I even handled the readings for the Sunday Mass livestream, though I don’t think that was enough to earn my keep. Thanks Father.

This visit brings us to the end of my photo-worthy experiences.

Please keep an eye out in this space in the coming weeks, as I hope to have an announcement on the day the book will be available and how you may place an order, if you’re so inclined.

Thanks for following along.

Holy Rosary in Dillingham. It was about 10 p.m. when I shot this.

Mass at Holy Rosary.

Technically, I was the co-pilot. My primary responsibility was “don’t touch anything.”

The Cross tells you whose plane this is.

The building in the center is where Mass was formerly said at Clarks Point, before flooding forced the town to relocate to the top of the ridge.

The monument to the area fishermen lost at sea.

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