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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Monday
Jan252010

Review of the Kabab and Curry, part 1, preface: The drive to town, the brief visit with Kalib

So here I am, crossing the Palmer Hay Flats, just outside of Wasilla, on the drive to Anchorage to dine at the Kabab and Curry with Melanie, Lisa, and Charlie. The temperature on the Flats is -4 degrees (-20 C), which is a little cooler than it will be in town.

I roll my window down and then, without looking to see what the camera is focused on but knowing that whatever it is, it will be beautiful, I point the camera out the window, keep my eyes on the road and push the shutter.

Thus you have it: the Palmer Hay Flats, with Pioneer Peak and the Chugach Range rising behind.

By the way, nobody grows hay on the Palmer Hay Flats. They once did, before the 1964 Good Friday Earthquake. That quake lowered the elevation of the land here, so that at high tide, salt water creeps in. That's why the trees are all dead.

The hay that once grew here is dead, too.

As beautiful as it is, this is really tough world, one that kills tree and hay alike, with no remorse. All it takes is a simple, indifferent, slippage of earth against earth. The result was a 9.2 magnitude earthquake, the second most powerful ever recorded.

I was an adolescent living in Eureka, California, at the time and I had persuaded my Sunday School teacher to take our class on a beach party at Moonstone that Saturday, but a tsunami came to us from Alaska and closed all the beaches. We could not go near them.

Crescent City, a short distance to the north of us, took the wave straight on and 15 people were killed. My friend and next door neighbor, Mike McDaniels, had just gotten off the bus in Crescent City when the wave smashed into town.

He reported that he saw a baby get ripped out of the arms of its mother and then disappear in the swirling, cold, dirty, water.

So the Alaska quake that killed about 131 people in this state, totally destroyed the village of Chenega (which, not long after it was finally rebuilt was oiled by the spill of the Exxon Valdez), dropped the Palmer Hay Flats into tidal waters reached far away and gave me a direct link to my home in Alaska long before I actually came home to live here.

The Palmer Hay Flats is now a State Game Refuge. Many moose live here year round and each spring and summer ducks and geese come to raise families, as do many other birds. Salmon swim in to spawn and fishermen and women pull them from the water.

A bit less than half-way to town, I saw this ambulance speeding in the opposite, northbound, lanes of traffic, rushing to an emergency. I reasoned that perhaps there had been an accident somewhere behind me.

Actually, the accident had happened a short distance ahead of me. I soon reached it and passed it. By that time, the ambulance had exited out of the north-bound lanes, entered the south-bound and was just reaching the accident scene.

Later, I looked at the online Anchorage Daily News, but found nothing about the accident. This does not mean that someone did not receive a significant injury, but it does mean that no one was killed.

Not far from Eagle River, I saw the half-moon, teasing the clouds who, even as high up as they are, can never touch it. Sometimes, clouds get so frustrated by this fact that they start to cry and then they rain all over everything.

If its cold enough, their tears turn to snow.

I know this to be a fact, because my father was a meteorologist.

Jacob, Kalib, and Lavina were not home when I reached their house, but they soon arrived. As you saw in my last post in a picture just one frame away from this one, Kalib had fallen asleep in the car and had to be carried into the house.

Muzzy came to greet me, then fell down submissively upon the floor. As big and headstrong as he is, he can be a submissive dog.

Jacob gave Lavina a foot massage. There has been no change in her status. She is still experiencing mild contractions about one-hour apart, still hoping the birth can wait until the grandmas arrive.

I did not know that labor could be like this - so long, drawn out over many days or even weeks. It never was with Margie. She was in labor with Jacob for about 13.5 hours and that was the longest she was ever in labor. It was intense, all the way through.

Before I left to go meet Melanie, Charlie and Lisa at the Kabab and Curry, I sneaked into the bedroom to take a peek at Kalib. He was fast asleep.

They had laid him down still fully dressed in his snow suit, so as not to wake him. I gave him the softest of pats, then drove off to meet those other three at the Kabab and Curry. The full review will appear at 12:00 noon Alaska time, 4:00 PM East Coast time, which is 2:30 AM India time.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have been getting hundreds of hits from India - not just from my relatives, but from many others. Pretty amazing.

There will be a couple of cats in the Kabab and Curry post, too.

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Reader Comments (7)

Awww, there's nothing more beautiful than a child sleeping...
I did not know you were in Eureka at the time that happened. Wow!! It was by far the biggest thing to ever happen to Crescent City. I grew up Willits, and my dad had a boat over at Ft. Bragg he'd salmon fish every year. I was the helper, and so I spent lots of time over there, up and down the coast wandering around. I remember being on a beach outside of Leggett when an earthquake happened. Dropped rock off the cliffs. Was pretty interesting.
Love that area. You brought back the memories!

January 25, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMikey

I remember seeing the news about Alaska's earthquake, and then later reading about it in our 'My Weekly Reader'. I never realized the magnitude of it.

One phrase will stay with me from today's post: "without looking to see what the camera is focused on but knowing that whatever it is, it will be beautiful, I point the camera out the window, keep my eyes on the road" Bill, you are a 'fortunate son' to live in a place where you know, without looking, that you are surrounded by such wonders. So those words will stay with me as I look about my own world today. Those words and all the pictures you gave us today.

January 25, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterdebby

great pictures, love Muzzy

January 25, 2010 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

Loved the rain story and the picture of Muzzy :)

January 25, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterAsh

your family must be so use to you taking pictures of them...they're all so natural and relaxed. whenever a camera comes out around me i get fidgety and make weird faces...

January 25, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterann

I'm just glad to get one more look at Kaleb. The pictures are soooo beautiful. Maybe one day I'll get a opportunity to visit AK and see all the beauty in person. I can't imagine -4 degree weather, though.

January 25, 2010 | Unregistered Commentermajii

Mikey - Seeing as how I lived in Northern Cal and you did too, and as how I lived in AZ and now you do, your next home must be in Alaska.

Debby - After my mother died, and I looked into her coffin, a song that she used to sing when I was growing up came into my mind, "There is beauty all around..."

Twain - And I can tell you right now, if you two were to meet, Muzzy would love you, too. He is that kind of dog.

Ash - I'm glad. Next time it rains upon you, you will know why.

ann - That's true, but I suspect that you and I were to meet, pretty soon you would forget about the camera and I could get a natural looking photo of you, too.

majii - I hope you do visit. But in Alaska, in January, -4 is not a cold temperature at all. Probably June would be the best month to come. The days never end, the weather is generally warm and the rainy season has yet to begin.

January 26, 2010 | Registered CommenterWasilla, Alaska, by 300

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