Jenny Weis

Bristol Bay

Giddy. I don’t use the word often, but it’s the best way I can describe my demeanor as our flight touched down in King Salmon, Alaska late last August. My uncles, first time visitors to the Bristol Bay region, sat chatting a few rows ahead of me. When the plane came to a halt, I did my best “keep it cool” impression as I unbuckled, grabbed my carry-on, and walked up the aisle to meet them. As we stepped off the plane, I smirked and thought, “Holy buckets, this place is about to blow your socks