Into the wilderness, to Alaska: how to live on an island among bears and whales and not go crazy

What does it mean to live outside the system? You can hardly find a more out-of-the-box life than that of Zach, a 29-year-old who was born and raised in Japan, but went to Marble Island on the southern tip of Alaska six years ago. He came here in search of a simpler life and found what he was looking for when he was sheltered by a family of oyster farmers.

Photographer Anze Osterman spent a month documenting Zack's life on such a remote island that sometimes the guy doesn't see a single living soul for six months, except for family members with whom he lives.

Marble Island, surrounded by whales and inhabited by wandering bears, can only be reached by boat or amphibious aircraft. There are no roads, no telephone connection. The nearest city is Ketchikan, a two—hour flight away. The photographer says: "Zach was the first person I saw when the amphibious plane landed in Tokin Bay. It is part of Marble Island, where he lives with the Wyatt family."

"He and his dog Kali came to pick me up and take me to dry land. We immediately found a common language. On that first day, I realized that Zach would be the hero of the story I was looking for," Anze Osterman shares his impressions.

Zack lives in a cabin with a fishing family — Eric and his wife Cindy. Together they work on a floating oyster farm. Every couple of months, Eric and Zack return to the civilized world to replenish fuel for generators— their only source of electricity—and stocks of food that they cannot grow or catch on their own.

But most of the vegetables grow in the garden and in the forest, and all the meat and fish — venison, halibut and oysters — they get themselves. Zack and the Wyatt family get their drinking water from a small bay and collect it in a barrel.

Before getting to Marble Island, Osterman wondered who could think of choosing such a remote place to live. But, according to him, he quickly changed his mind. "Living in a place with such a powerful history and untouched nature, you start to think that this is real life. As if you are no longer a fish in an aquarium, you are free. All the anxiety just evaporates," says the photographer.