Outhouse theory

Building outhouses is not only easy, but also fun! Here’s a great recipe for TCOB in the AK:

HOLE IN GROUND (mandatory, self-explanatory)

PERCH ABOVE HOLE (essential). A plywood bench with second hole – simply employ Sawzall, personal discretion

FOUR WALLS, CEILING (optional) – Note that in some locals, three walls will not only suffice, but may also offer certain advantages, i.e. superior ventilation and views of the northern lights, to enhance pooping.

STYROFOAM (essential). This feature offers several cold-resistant properties that provide both comfort as well as a substantially-decreased risk of becoming affixed to your aforementioned perch in -40F temperatures.

T.P. (essential, self-explanatory)

SAWDUST (utility remains unknown) – Still haven’t figured this one out. Think you might be supposed to dump some down the hole once in a while to aid in decomposition. Standard selection of cedar chips may offer advantages in terms of ambient air conditions.

CINDERBLOCK (optional). Depending on height of perch, can offer superior comfort as footrest.

MAGAZINES (optional, self-explanatory)

LIGHT (recommended). My current set up comes complete with strung Christmas-style lights, on-off switch. Lets bears know exactly where you are, thereby aiding mauling bids.

DECORATIONS (optional). Currently, a dishtowel depicting pastoral scene with ducks provides engaging and relaxing atmosphere.

The Kenai River

The queen of Alaska’s rivers. The swift, deep, emerald-hues waters of the Kenai are renowned for prolific runs of red, pink, silver, and world-record king salmon. Slightly less known but in my opinion even more amazing are the resident and perennially migratory trout and char species that feed largely on the spawn and flesh of all these salmon, and grow to ridiculous sizes in the process.

In late September my buddies Tank, Ed and I staged a three-man attack from home base in Cooper Landing, AK. Three days, two guided float trips, and several bottles of Jim Beam later, we lost count of the 20+ inch, football-shaped rainbows we guided to the net. Aside from Tank’s 13 lbs silver salmon hauled in on Day 2, the highlight was unquestionably an absurdly-proportioned 27.5”, 9-10 lbs native rainbow wrestled in by Ed on Day 3. (Don’t worry, the author quickly re-established his dominance on the smaller water of the Anchor River, landing 2 fresh steelhead to cap off the final leg of overall trip.)

This is by far the most amazing fishery I have ever experienced. I’ll let the pictures tell the rest of the story….

The Salvadorean Experiment (An Essay Concerning Risk)

Alaska is a dangerous land. Where massive bears can turn hiker into prey. Where frigid temperatures can turn drunken pedestrians into popsicles. And where a dilapidated VW camper van from El Salvador can turn hungry lunch-goers into fatally-dehydrated ER patients.

Or so I thought upon first eyeing the sketchiest “restaurant” I have ever encountered. The location – abandoned gas station parking lot. The culprit – described above. The dilemma – despite every indication to the contrary, could this food actually be good?

Fortunately, my time in rough-and-tumble Fairbanks has sufficiently steeled my nerves (or diminished my judgment and cognitive abilities) so as to justify experimenting with the tamales and papoosas advertised by a kindly Salvedorean refugee via orange spray paint applied to a triangle of plywood along Noble Street’s sidewalk.

As a precaution, I cleared my schedule for the afternoon, and generally ensured that my affairs were in order. Then I ordered. “Tamale,” I blurted excitedly, ignorant of all things papoosa. “…With chicken. And a Dr. Pepper.” My new mustachioed friend quickly obliged, and after finding a suitable park bench under the shade of the gas station canopy, I dug in. Delicious. Proving once again the virtues of risk, even at the expense of all common sense.

SIlver Gulch Brewery

The Silver Gulch Brewery in Fox, Alaska is a place where, to paraphrase its motto, “unusual people make unusually good beer.” Taking this advertizing at its word (which I am always sure to do), I joined a couple hundred revelers at the Brewery’s annual Oktoberfest celebration, and soon discovered the aforementioned motto to be correct on both accounts. Good beer, great brats, and a lively polka band in accurate and therefore ridiculous German garb made for a solid night in itself, though of course we capped things off across the street at the Howling Dog Saloon to take in a pretty decent jam band and three-too-many cans of PBR.

Good times to be had in the old gold mining town of Fox.

Tourists

In late May to early June of every year, residents of Alaska bear witness to one of the most incessant, consuming migrations of wildlife known to Earth, as flocks of white (and sometimes blue)-haired specimens of considerable age and girth descend upon the previously quiet and spacious environs of the state. Tourists. And lots of them. Gawking from buses, invading souvenir shops, and slowly meandering through town.

Not a moose-printed sweatshirt or box of smoked salmon is spared. The gathering hoards are ravenous, consumed by their dual desires to purchase merchandize of limited utility and to operate large cameras.

By September, the herd disperses, leaving only discarded brochures and the faint scent of Ben-Gay in their wake. By winter they have vanished, although a winter run of excitable Japanese tourists may fill a portion of the icy void, thereby ensuring the survival of the species against potential summer-time catastrophe.

Come next spring, as the snows recede and the rivers are freed from their icy repose, resident Alaskans across the state prepare for the coming of warmer weather, and brace themselves for next migration of these mysterious creatures from the south. The circle of life marches on….