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A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

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Wasilla

Wasilla is the place where I have lived for the past 29 years - sort of. The house in which my wife and I raised our family sits here, but I have made my rather odd career as a different sort of photojournalist by continually wandering off to other places to photograph people and gather information, which I have then put together in various publications that have served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities.

Although I did not have a great of free time to devote to this rather strange community, named after a Tanaina Athabascan Indian chief who knew Wasilla in the way that I so impossibly long to, I have still documented it regularly over the past quarter-century plus. In the early days, my Wasilla photographs focused mostly upon my children and the events they participated in - baseball, football, figure skating, hockey, frog catching, fire cracker detonation, Fourth of July parade - that sort of thing. 

In 2002, I purchased my first digital camera and then, whenever I was home, I began to photograph Wasilla upon a daily basis, but not in a conventional way. These were grab shots - whatever caught my eye as I took my many long walks or drove through the town, shooting through the car window at people and scenes that appeared and disappeared before I could even focus and compose in the traditional photographic way.

Thus, the Wasilla portion of this blog will be devoted both to the images that I take as I wander about and those that I have taken in the past. Despite the odd, random, nature of the images, I believe they communicate something powerful about this town that I have never seen expressed anywhere else. 

Wasilla is a sprawling community that has been slapped down hodge-podge upon what was so recently wilderness of the most exquisite beauty. In its design, it is deliberately anti-zoned, anti-planned. In the building of Wasilla, the desire to make a buck has trumped aesthetics and all other considerations. This town, built in the midst of exquisite beauty, has largely become an unsightly, unattractive, mess of urban sprawl. Largely because of this, it often seems to me that Wasilla is a community with no sense of community, a town devoid of town soul.

Yet - Wasilla is my home and if I am lucky it will be until I grow old and die. Despite its horrific failings, it is still made of the stuff of any small city: people; moms and dads, grammas and grampas, teens, children, churches, bars, professionals, laborers, soldiers, missionaries, artists, athletes, geniuses, do-gooders, hoodlums, the wealthy, the homeless, the rational and logical, the slightly insane and the wholly insane - and, yes, as is now obvious to the whole world, politicians, too.

So perhaps, if one were to search hard enough, it might just be possible to find a sense of community here, and a town soul. So, using my skills as a photojournalist and a writer, I hope to do just that. If this place has a sense of community, I will find it. If there is a town soul to Wasilla, I will document it. I won't compete with the newspapers. Hell no! But as time and income allow, it will be fun to wander into the places where the folks described above gather, and then put what I find on this blog.

 

by 300...

Anywhere within a 300 mile radius of Wasilla. This encompasses perhaps the most wild, dramatic, gorgeous, beautiful section of land and sea to be found in any comparable space anywhere on Earth. I can never explore it all, but I will do the best that I can, and will here share what I find and experience with you.  

and then some...

Anywhere else in the world that I happen to get to, such as Point Lay, Alaska; Missoula, Montana; Serenki, Chukotka, Russia; or Bangalore, India. Perhaps even Lagos, Nigeria. I have both a desire and scheme to get me there. It is a long shot. We shall see if I succeed.

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Thursday
Aug132009

The big "Spirit of Wasilla" train vs. pickup truck race - sponsored by the Alaska Railroad

DateThursday, August 13, 2009 at 11:49PM

If you click on the above picture that I took this morning, it will blow-up a bit and then you will see that the three words right in front of the "4008" say "Spirit of Wasilla." The Spirit of Wasilla is the most famous train engine in the world and if you didn't know that, it is just because you have been distracted by all the other nonsense that has come out of Wasilla this past year.

People come here from all over the world, including Burmingham, Botswanna, hoping to catch a ride on this engine, but few succeed.

Anyway, I learned about the great train vs. pickup truck race that took place in Wasilla today as I lay in bed this morning, listening to the news. I was horrified to hear that the Spirit of Wasilla and the truck that it was going to race had already lined up at the starting line and that the contest was about to begin.

Quicker than a tiddly-wink shot out of a canon, I leapt from my bed into my Levi's, sprinted through the house, out the door and into the Escape and sped off toward the starting line. I did not want to miss this race!

When I arrived, I was a little distressed to find out that not only had the race already started, but the pickup truck had taken the lead!

Of course, everybody knows that a pickup truck is faster off the line then a train but give a train a little time and it can really pick up speed, so I still had hope.

Holy cow! This old Ford truck came barreling from the other direction, straight toward the competing pickup truck. The poor race driver wet his pants and barreled off the road. The "Spirit of Wasilla" sped away, into the lead. It looked like nothing could prevent it from winning now.

OH NO! Another train came roaring down the track from the opposite direction, driven by a passenger in a passenger car that I photographed when passed near here in August of 2006.

Oh, the humanity! The humanity!

The race was lost.

 

"Billy!" I can hear Margie shouting at me from the living room. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it right now! Somebody is going to believe your nonsensical lies and then we will be railroaded out of town!"

I love the train. I just love it. One day, I will ride on it. I never have. All these tourists come up and ride the Alaska Railroad, but I never have.

How come?

AuthorWasilla, Alaska, by 300 | Comment1 Comment |
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Reader Comments (1)

What a hoot! Bill, when Margie is able, you must take her for a ride on the Alaska Railroad. You will both love it. It's a great ride!

August 14, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterJerrianne

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