Somewhere in the empty sweep of the Bering Sea, we dropped anchor off the west coast of St. Matthew Island — one of the most remote bits of land in the entire United States. We came ashore by Zodiac, landing on a gravel beach strewn with the massive carcasses of dead whales, slowly returning to sand in the wind and mist. There were no signs of humans, no structures, not even driftwood shelters — just silence, surf, and the wild weight of distance. This was not just the edge of Alaska; it is the edge of the world.
Most of my shipmates came to see the elusive McKay’s Bunting, a pale little songbird found nowhere else on Earth. But St. Matthew holds more than rare birds. Once home to a runaway herd of reindeer (that famously overpopulated and starved), it has a quiet, eerie history of brief human presence and long, icy solitude. The island is now part of the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge — protected, uninhabited, and untouched.
Taking the easy way out, I let ChatGPT draft the description and I am using someone else’s photo of the little white bird. I saw it, that very bird. But, it really wasn’t any kind of a deal to me. And, I didn’t have the proper gear to photograph it anyhow.
Finished plowing through the emails today.
Nice shot Peg, interesting island.