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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Tuesday
Aug102010

Barrow Whalers football season opener part 1 of 5: Pregame - the whalers suit up, discuss strategy, pysch themselves up then venture out into a cold, stiff, Arctic wind

After suiting up on the morning of the first game of the season, the Barrow Whalers football team walks to the far end of the building to gather for a pre-game meeting.

They listen as coach Brian Houston, a member of the coaching staff headed by Mark Voss, discusses strategy and attitude.

Coach Bob Cambell demonstrates blocking technique.

Afterward, Jessie Sanchez, who is also a long-time member of the Barrow Eskimo Dancers, gets a little one-on-one time from Campbell.

After the meetings, they return to the changing room, where Ben Jones gets his ankles taped.

Darius Samuelu gets his wrists taped.

Ready for grid-iron combat.

Before they head to the bus for the three mile drive to Cathy Parker field, the players join together for a team prayer.

They listen as Coach Voss gives them some final words of encouragement. He tells them that there have been signs that their opponents, the JV team of South Anchorage, a high school with six times the number of students of Barrow High, does not consider them to be a real football team and does not hold them with much respect.

"They will respect you when this game is over," he says.

As the players enter the bus, they shout out their battle cries.

Then, as instructed by Coach Voss, they ride in silence to the field, each going into his own head and soul to pyschologically ready themselves for the game.

Cathy Parker Field, named for the Florida woman who was so impressed when she learned how Barrow Whalers had started a team four years ago but had to play on a hard, gravelly surface atop permafrost, that she raised the money necessary to purchase astro-turf and to build Barrow a real field.

The unusually warm weather that Barrow had enjoyed just two days before was gone now. The temperature was in the mid-30's and the wind blew hard from the north, right off the Chukchi Sea, at over 30 mph. As the team did their warmups, Coach Houston gave Ben Jones a little help to stretch and limber up his muscles.

The cheerleaders arrived. Soon, it would be game time.

I am going to do something a little different with this series of five posts that I pulled the pictures into late last night and early this morning before going to bed. I will post them all this morning, but before I continue I am going to go to Pepe's, eat some breakfast and take care of a few tasks.

 

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note: the slide show also has images not included in the above narrative.

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Reader Comments (2)

i'm not a football fan but i love the blues, great pictures

August 10, 2010 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

Well I played one year at Barrow High, and it was really fun. I wish I could go back and be a part of that team again. It was a close nicked family

June 30, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterMeatball Woods

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