Adak is best explained through vignettes

One day last June I got a rather curious call from a friend. He said that he and 10 other people he knew, mostly Alaskan artists of various types, had put together an expedition to Adak in August. They had rented both halves of a duplex and three rugged trucks. They were short one person to share expenses. Would I like to go? I could tell he expected me to decline the unusual offer. I thought, "I am nearly 80 years old. If not now, then never." I said "Yes!"

At the time I knew absolutely nothing about Adak other than during WWII it was the focal point in the war against the Japanese who had invaded a couple of islands on the Aleutian Chain. Since then, I have learned a bit more.

Adak, about 1,200 miles southwest of Anchorage, is the second most rainy spot in the inhabited United States and is known for abundant ferocious winds. During the Cold War with the Soviet Union, Adak became a secret listening post to track Soviet submarines and a supply base for American subs. Thousands of soldiers and civilians lived there. Then, in the late 1990s, the military suddenly pulled out. They left behind entire neighborhoods of empty, decomposing homes and dozens of massive buildings around the island, often fully furnished but vandalized by humans and victimized by the weather. On a quiet overcast windy day, perhaps a loose shutter banging on a bit of remaining drywall-utterly postapocalyptic.

And the military left behind something else -an enormous, highly contaminated Superfund site. The 77,000-acre site includes the town of Adak, the adjacent airport, the port facilities, and other undeveloped lands. The Navy and the State of Alaska have been working to clean it up or at least stabilize it over the last few decades. It is a big project.

At the same time there is the astounding, overwhelming beauty of the island. The tundra is so thick it bounces like a mattress when you walk on it. Rugged sculpted mountains are draped in a rich green velvety blanket like a Dali pool table for the gods. Ribbons of fog gently caress the mountains or completely hide them in an impenetrable gray shroud. Perfect coves and inlets nestle everywhere along the coast.

I have never been anywhere like Adak. It doesn't lend itself to a tidy discussion. It is like a collision of extremes and contradictions. Go there. Bring food. Count on staying much longer than you planned.

You can hear the plane try to land in the fog, then fly off without you. Maybe it will come back in a few days. Meanwhile, there is more to explore on the island. There isn't a story. There are only vignettes...

~The mayor of Adak is a short, round, grandmotherly Native woman who radiates warmth and caring. She lives across the street from the duplex in which we were staying. Several days after our return flight had been fogged out we bumped into her. She asked how we were doing, and did we bring enough food since the town's only market had closed weeks earlier and there was no place to buy supplies. We told her our food was getting low as we waited for the next flight which we hoped would land in a few days. She said if we ran out of food to come over to her house and she would feed us. She confided that she had a trick to get her food shipped out to Adak and avoid expensive airfreight charges-Amazon Prime.

~People on the island wear a lot of hats. One evening I was enjoying beer and pizza at the Tundra Tavern when business was slow, so the two cooks came out of the kitchen to mingle. "Wow. They look really familiar," I thought. Suddenly I realized who they were-the smartly uniformed TSA agents who greeted us when we landed. The charming young server looked familiar too. So where had I seen her? Of course! She was the all-business airport ticket agent.

~The former high school has been repurposed as a library, clinic, community center, and city administrative office. Posters, notices, and brochures abound. My favorite was a coloring book entitled "Boomer the Otter and Pals Presents Adak Island Safety Featuring Grandma and Grandpa." One page, for example, advised the youthful reader, "If you see one of these signs, DON'T GO PAST IT – you could be hurt or even die." The sign shows images of a skull and cross bones and a bomb. The text reads, "DANGER. Unexploded ordnance. No trespassing."

~Overheard in the Tundra Tavern, the town's historic bar/restaurant: On the island the red hats occasionally seen in the bar with "MAGA" emblazoned on the front stand for: "Make Adak Great Again."

Lawrence D. Weiss is a UAA professor of Public health, emeritus, creator of the UAA Master of Public health program, and author of several books and numerous articles.