Anchor Rock

Were you to drive through the surrounding mountain range, following the dust laden road, which, aside from the occasional tractor and, of course, Cody’s truck, is likely marked only by your own tire tracks, you would find your way to our town. A small sign greets you, a faded maroon typeface displaying the words “Anchor Rock”. Below it, you can make out the typical population marker, with a number that must once have been in the thousands painted over once, twice, any number of times. It now reads a scant 532. The pull of the outside world and the glow of the Big City (what locals call the closest metropolitan centre) has eroded Anchor Rock in the last few generations, as young people leave to seek an education, make their fortune, and eventually decide to settle away from their hometown. The community is still managing just fine, and there are certainly still young families around, but the total amount of grey hairs and once-a-year visits has gone up.

You continue your drive, down the single, empty road, noticing the train tracks running alongside you. They trail off before you finish your journey, the train station after all being on the outskirts of town. The station, like much of the town, is careworn, and sits quietly, waiting for its once-a-week train, tucked amidst the trees, dappled in the sun by the leaves above.

You reach Anchor Rock itself, encounter those 532 town-dwellers. Invariably, being so very remote, the community of Anchor Rock is tight-knit. Folks take care of one another, and if you choose to walk around town you’ll find yourself greeted by many a curious face. The residents of Anchor Rock will tell you that being so isolated does not bother them – in fact, this is just the way they like it. Everyone knows everyone (and everyone knows everyone’s business), it’s reassuring, cosy, familiar. Besides, they would say, we have everything we need right here. Anchor Rock is mostly self-sustaining – their farmers grow everything they need, and if you need something done, one of your neighbours is sure to know how to do it. There is a general store, as well as a series of smaller establishments, and plenty of residents are happy to sell or trade the excess from their gardens. The community is warm and friendly – no one is left without help when they need it. It’s not uncommon to be drawn into a conversation with an old friend on the way to the florist’s, or be invited over for dinner on a whim.

That being said, as you spend more time in Anchor Rock, you would notice that the community is a little stagnant, at least when it comes to technology. Why bother getting a computer when you’ve done everything just by hand for generations? Why get a cell phone when there’s no cell signal to speak of anyways? The town has – reluctantly – installed a couple of phone lines, the wires hanging above the Town Square, pointing you to the library or town hall if you feel really so strongly about making a phone call. The library even has a community computer (although, trust me, you did not want to see the debate that decision stirred in the town meeting). It’s enough for the folk in Anchor Rock, but it probably feels antiquated to you, and the rest of the modern world.

All the same, it’s home.

Map is not to scale