Last week brought an unexpected reminder of just how closely tied we are to the rhythms and risks of the Pacific. Following a major earthquake off the coast of Kamchatka, Russia, our island received a tsunami warning. By around 4:00 p.m., the village safety officer, ambulance drivers, and city officials were driving through town with sirens blaring and the emergency loudspeakers echoing through the streets: evacuate to higher ground.
Residents responded quickly. Some made their way to Telegraph Hill, others stayed safely at home if they already lived on elevated ground. Many of us gathered at the Civic Center, which became the main evacuation point for the community.
Inside, the mood was steady and calm. Children were kept busy with art projects and storytelling, a testament to the strength and gentleness of our village members. The clinic staff stepped in and did what they do best: take care of people. They rallied groceries from the store and whipped up what will forever be remembered as Tsunami Stroganoff: a warm, comforting meal shared in a moment of uncertainty.
As the hours passed, we waited, talked, colored, ate, and looked out windows into the dim, foggy summer evening. Around 9:00 p.m., the tsunami warning was downgraded to an alert, and we were given the all-clear to return to our homes.
It was a long evening, but a powerful reminder of the resilience, care, and coordination that define our small island community. Emergencies like this are never easy, but here on the tundra, we meet them together.
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