I Moved 4,000 Miles to Alaska at 19: Here Is Why
- Matt Zefi
- Dec 7, 2025
- 5 min read
There's a line that goes something like: you should never go to Alaska as a young person, because you'll never be satisfied with anywhere else as long as you live.
The point isn't that Alaska ruins you. It's how transformative the place is. And when I was 19, that's exactly what happened to me.
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Before Alaska, I was a beach person
I'm originally from New York. I spent a couple of years in Florida going to school for video production, and I fell into documentary-style filmmaking and videography. I loved the run-and-gun nature of that work.
I genuinely didn't know what I was going to do with it. I wasn't figuring things out so much as flying by the seat of my pants.
I was a beach person more than anything. Alaska was not on my radar. It's about as far from Florida as you can get, and my working knowledge of the place came from Disney movies.
The job posting
Then a videographer position in Alaska came up. Seasonal, tourism-focused, run-and-gun documentary work. Exactly the kind of filming I liked.
I applied. My entire demo reel at that point was footage shot around Florida, which could not have been more different from what they were hiring for, and I hadn't worked in many professional capacities yet.
I got an interview. I still remember sitting in my college apartment wearing the one polo I owned, in a strange orange color. Apparently it worked, because I got the offer.
The other offer
I was weighing two jobs. Alaska, or videography for weddings.
I would have made considerably more money in the short term shooting weddings. That was the honest tradeoff.
I sent the acceptance email for the Alaska job while sitting by the pool with my family on graduation day, right after the ceremony. I sent it off the cuff, because it felt less like accepting a job and more like a calling. Something I needed to do.
And then I almost backed out
A few days later I was terrified. I emailed my contact at the company saying I wasn't sure about the creative differences between what they wanted and what I was making.
They were incredibly kind about it and talked me down from every concern I'd invented. Because that's what those concerns were. I just lacked confidence and didn't know what I was doing.
Telling friends and family got mixed reactions. My parents were supportive, sad about the distance but I think they understood I needed to go. I remember standing on the porch of the house I grew up in and telling my brother, "That's it, I'm taking the job in Alaska." I don't remember what he said. I think he went quiet, a little confused by the whole thing.
Days later I was at JFK boarding a flight 4,000 miles to Juneau.
Arriving
We were completely socked in. Cloudy, raining, zero visibility. I could have been anywhere on earth.
I remember being terrified about what I'd just walked into. Alaska is an extreme outdoors-focused place, and everyone was kind from the moment I arrived, but it was still a massive culture shock coming from New York and Florida, the only two places I'd ever lived. At 19, stepping into that unknown is genuinely frightening.
The kindness of the people around me, and how willing they were to teach me things, made all the difference.
Day two: the ice caves
Everything shifted on the second day.
The company had hired me to travel the state filming excursions, which is a dream job on paper. Day two they sent me on an ice caves tour onto Mendenhall Glacier.
I had never been on a glacier, let alone underneath one. We paddled out, and I'm filming the entire time thinking, what is going on, this is insane.
Then we walked underneath the glacier into the ice caves, and it was the most magnificent thing I have ever seen. Indescribable blues. Every direction you looked was a photograph.
There are only a handful of moments in my life where I've thought: I'm in the right place, and I belong here. That was one of them.
The rest of that summer
We spent the season traveling across Alaska filming excursions. I had encounters with bears. I met people with genuinely unique lives, including one woman whose daily commute involved hiking over a mountain just to reach her car and then driving to work.
I loved everyone's approach to life there. There's a simplicity to it, set against the grandness of the outdoors, and Alaska is the greatest version of that. So much untouched wilderness beyond what the eye can see.
That's where I fell in love with the wild. The wildlife, the landscapes, all of it.
What it led to
The season ended and I had to leave. I left with some of the best footage I've ever shot, from all over the state, and that reel opened doors. I traveled the world because of it.
I don't live in Alaska today, but it very much lives in me. There's a Southeast Alaska map on the wall behind me. A lot of what I wear pays homage to Alaska heritage. And I talk about it far too much, which I do feel bad about for my friends.
I've been back many times since. This past summer I returned to some of the same places I saw at 19, and I stood there in the same kind of awe.
One of my biggest dreams is to actually drive out to Alaska, and I'm planning to do that in the next year or two.
Should you go?
If you get the opportunity, go. That's the whole recommendation.
If you have a similar story, or you've had a place change your direction like that, drop it in the comments. This is the first video I've made where I've shared a personal story like this, so I'd genuinely like to hear how it lands.
I'll see you out there on the road.
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