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
Oct132011

Random pics from yesterday's trip to Atqasuk: the baby, the frozen fish, the frozen river; the unfrozen sea

This is Patti Kanayurak of Atqasuk and her baby Levi. They will be in my next Uiñiq, along with more of the family, including Patti's parents and some of her siblings, too.

I will save the writing for Uiñiq, but, essentially, the story deals with a family that has chosen to live a healthy life free from the burdens of alcohol and drugs.

Down on the Meade River, I found people ice fishing. It felt much colder in Atqasuk than it had felt in Barrow and the wind was strong. I do not know what the temperatue was, but from experience I would say a bit above zero F. but with a windchill of -20 or so.

It was cold enough that there was no need or point in bonking a fresh-caught fish on the head - just pull it out, take it off the hook, toss it onto the ice and it is flash-frozen.

Below is an overflow on the Meade River as the Era flight takes us to Wainwright, enroute to Barrow. I was a bit stunned yesterday when I bought my round trip ticket from Barrow to Atqasuk and discovered that the fee was $330 plus.

Atqasuk is 55 nautical miles from Barrow. $330. My original roundtrip ticket from Anchorage to New York was $490. It didn't used to be so bad, and some of it is certainly the price of fuel, but there also used to be three or four air carriers serving Barrow and the villages and now there is one.

In May of 2009, I made what I had intended to be a three-village trip: Barrow, Wainwright, and Point Lay, but I had to drop the Point Lay portion because, even though Point Lay is the next village beyond Wainwright, I could not get a Barrow - Wainwright - Point Lay flight, but only a round-trip from Barrow to Wainwright, and then another round trip from Barrow to Point Lay.

I could not afford it.

I was most struck by the fact that, immediately after that trip, I flew to Bangalore, India, and that ticket was less than the Anchorage-Barrow-Wainwright-Point Lay trip that I had originally planned.

I really miss my plane. This trip would have cost maybe $40 in my own plane, figuring in gas, oil and maintenance.

I have this desire to go nuts, to photograph this place that I love that they call the Alaskan Arctic and the people of it like no one has ever photographed it beofre - including me. But how do I go about it? To really do it right, the way I want to, it would take a budget of between $300,000 and $500,000 a year. That kind of money is not available to me and it is never going to be.

I will just keep at it, one way or another, being grateful for the sometimes substantial support that I have so far received, and see how I much I can get done before my life ends or my health fails.

I'm not done yet, folks. I have lots of work to do, right here in the Arctic.

LOTS.

This morning I had breakfast at Pepe's and so did a fellow by the name of Frankie who eats there just about every day. "I should be standing on the ocean today," he told me. He said that because in the not terribly distant past, most years he could have stood on the ocean today, because it would have been frozen over.

Yes, there would be a lead, but there would also be a broad swath of shore-fast ice and beyond that, the pack ice.

This is what it looked like yesterday from the Era flight - no ice in sight; no shore-fast ice, no pack ice.

When I first arrived in Barrow this trip, I asked a whaler how far out the pack ice was.

"What pack ice?" he answered sardonically.

Then he said it was about 250 miles out.

 

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Reader Comments (2)

"This morning I had breakfast at Pepe's and so did a fellow by the name of Frankie who eats there just about every day. "I should be standing on the ocean today," he told me. He said that because in the not terribly distant past, most years he could have stood on the ocean today, because it would have been frozen over."

"When I first arrived in Barrow this trip, I asked a whaler how far out the pack ice was.

"What pack ice?" he answered sardonically.

Then he said it was about 250 miles out."

Sigh. I won't say a WORD about the USDA growth zone map released in the early 2000s, which showed growing zones shifting northwards en masse from the prior one. Or the new map of Greenland, which shows bare land marching inwards from the previous map, land which used to be covered in thick ice. Or maps showing bark beetle infestations marching northwards, because warmer winters mean more beetle larvae survive and warmer summers mean more trees are stressed and susceptible to bark beetle damage...

Because someone will say it's all a lie and a conspiracy and it isn't really happening, because "Climategate!" Gah.

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterOmegaMom

frightening how fast our surroundings are changing...great pictures

October 14, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

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