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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Friday
Apr152011

An ugly/beautiful fish gets plucked off the glass and is put to work; Roy Ahsoak and Ben Hopson at the beginning of a long drive

Those who knew my blog back during the time that Jacob, Lavina, and Kalib lived with us, before there was a Jobe, will remember that Kalib loved my fish. Every night, he had to feed them. So, when the family moved into a home of their own, I gave Kalib one of my 55 gallon tanks to take to his new home.

He was very fond of "Bobby" - the name he gave the big plecostomus that lived in my 90 gallon tank, so I gave Bobby to him as well.

And for all that time since, there has not been a plecostomus in the 90 gallon tank. The water inside has been kept clean and good, but there had been a bad algae buildup on the inner tank walls, which kind of mucked up the whole viewing experience.

So I finally went and bought a pleco from my local fish dealer, Alaska Reef and Freshwater. At first, Sergey, the owner and founder, tried to catch it with a little net, but couldn't. He gave up, plunged his hand into the tank, grabbed hold of it, pried it off the glass...

...and pulled it out.

He opened a bag...

...and put the pleco in it. He then put this bag into another bag, filled with air, just in case the pleco should poke a hole in it.

And here is the pleco, finally cleaning the algae from my 90 gallon tank. The pleco is observed by my ten or eleven year-old parrot fish who I bought as a baby all those years ago.

I love that parrot. He is friendly and smart and I will be sad when he dies. He is getting old.

In about two days, I expect the walls of this tank to shiny clean, free of algae.

This morning, Ben Hopson and Roy Ahsoak stopped in Wasilla at the beginning of a three-day drive that will end in Barrow, hopefully Sunday afternoon. We had breakfast together at Subways, courtesy of Roy.

I know - some of you are wondering... how can they drive to Barrow? No roads lead to Barrow. There is a road that goes to the Prudhoe Bay oil fields and there is a temporary ice road that is made by spraying water onto a Rollagon path across the tundra that leads all the way to Barrow.

Temperatures along the route are still dropping to as cold as -30, but the thaw is coming and so the road will be closed for the season April 20.

It is not a good idea to make such a drive alone, so Roy and Ben will be meeting Clancy Itta in Fairbanks and he will drive to Barrow with them. I think there might be a third vehicle in the caravan as well.

The new truck and boat belong to Roy. He was planning to leave the boat in Prudhoe Bay and then come back and pick it up in the summer after the ice goes out, but, if the weather and driving conditions look good, he just might take it all the way to Barrow.

By air, 850 miles separate Barrow from Anchorage - where they began. The drive, of course, will be more than that, but I do not know how much more.

If I had this blog to where I would truly like to get it - if I could make this blog my livelihood and do with it what I want to do, I think I would have jumped into the truck with them and then blogged the whole experience.

That would have been fun.

Safe travels, Roy and Bennie.

 

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Reader Comments (2)

just caught up on your w'ful blog, charming billy. what's that from? a song, i think. love the fish photographs. i clicked on leah's etsy website...fantastic jewelry! margie's cake looks fantastic. i thot maybe a bear would come and eat it. i've heard that moose are allergic to chocolate.

April 15, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterRuth Deming

i think pleco's are beautiful...now my firemouth who shares a tank with one is not that crazy about them :)

April 16, 2011 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

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