Climbing

Yesterday I was bored. I had managed to waste an entire day doing nothing — in other words, a typical Saturday in my world. But by evening, I was overcome by a sudden attack of guilt for having idled around all day. I realized a sixth of my summer here in Skagway was gone and I had little to show for it. There I was surrounded by mountains and I had barely used the $20 hiking boots I bought the day before I left North Carolina. I felt a rare sense of urgency, an urge to do something now.

So I shed my sneakers in favor of the boots, put on my jacket and at precisely 8:12 p.m., with the sky still illuminated, I set out to climb something.

A life in the day

The Skagway News hit newsstands today, so the world will finally be able to read my beautiful beautiful words. I'd link to the stories here, but my editor doesn't put stories online until like a week after the paper comes out. Makes people buy the paper, he says. I laughed when he told me that, but the more I thought about it the more sense it made, and kind of made me wonder if The New York Times and Washington Post would still be struggling to survive if they had just completely ignored the Internet 15 years ago.

Anyway, in celebration of my first issue, I'd like to take you through a busy summer day in the life of Mark Abadi.

Welcome to Skagway

Today I finished writing all my stories for the next issue, so I can take some time to reflect on my first week in Skagway. Many of you are probably wondering why I chose to spend my summer in a tiny Alaska town. I am unable to provide you with an answer at this time, but I'm working on it. I promise.

My first full day here was spent exploring and getting to know the town. However, Skagway is just five streets wide and 23 streets long, meaning I was able to explore and re-explore the entire town multiple times before lunch.

That day was significant for me in that it was the first time in my life I have been interested in history. In a word, Skagway is badass. It was incorporated in 1887 and exploded in population a decade later when word of the Klondike Gold Rush spread across the United States. Thousands of "stampeders" dropped everything and moved to Alaska in the late 1890s in hopes of striking it rich in Dawson City.

Inaugural post

Hello. My name is Mark, and I'm a reporting intern at The Skagway News. I live in a room slightly larger than a Twister mat. My daily commute to work is short, as I live in the newsroom. My newspaper serves a town that 113 years ago was filled with saloons and brothels and was patrolled by an outlaw named Soapy Smith. One of my main sources is named Buckwheat. It is 10:19 p.m. and still light outside. I am surrounded by mountains, water and smiling faces. Deadline is every two weeks. I am at peace with my life. I'm in Alaska, trick.