Chicken Alaska

July 26th

 

Sunny day with clouds that burn off, for sandals and t-shirt garb, and on our way to Chicken,
Alaska. This little contained community, starting as a gold-rush habitat in the late 1800s, turned
out to be another gem, and another fave, which was surprising. There was a huge plywood red
chicken welcoming us to the three-stored period "mini-mall", connected by wooden sidewalks,
and owned by one woman, Susan.

 

The mercantile was the usual touristy faire, but also included some tasteful jewelry and fun toys,
hats. Next, was the most fun and bawdy decorated saloon, with torn panties, bras, an array of
"wife-beater" shirts, and other general ripped attire tacked up on to the ceiling and walls, with no
air in-between them. Susan's cafe was at the other end, and walking through the wooden
screen door, introduced you right away to a great assortment of gigantic iced cinnamon rolls,
which we split on the porch table, berry pies all sliced and ready to go. The chalkboard menu
presented mouth-watering sandwiches, soups, burgers, breakfasts, and tables were set neatly
with no preservative ketchup, salt and pepper, and flowers. She was ready for tour bus
luncheons, inside and outdoors. It was a classy rural establishment.

 

Only around the dusty corner, was another complex of gift shop/restaurant, with cabins for rent,
and the giant 20 foot tall, white and red rooster, made of high school lockers. I ended up
purchasing two of their own designed t-shirts, with animated chickens on one and abstract
chicken dancers on another, on two shades of orange. On to the next shopping area down the
road, which housed a gift store that held no interest for either of us, a small cafe, a pile of rocks
one could shovel around in, for gold nuggets or veins. The one draw that had us returning to
three times, was a small jeweler, sculptor, and he and his wife also collected other Alaskan
artists' work to sell. They were from Oklahoma originally, with a tell-tale accent, but have lived
in Alaska since 1983, with shop summers in Chicken, and the rest of the year in Palmer. Very
nice, down-to-earth folks, and we liked them much.

Mark angst over two pieces created by the man, a graceful, ivory ulu, and a beautiful sculpture
he had carved out of whale vertebrae and walrus tusk fossil, of an eskimo man holding a spirit
fish of salmon and halibut fantasy. We left the shop twice, and for the third visit, Mark looked
closer, questioned what the fish eyes were made of, and when glass was replied, he decided to
forego purchase, preferring inlaid ones with mother of pearl (or something similar) or carved. I
had also noticed those orbs, and wondered if they were going to jiggle, like stuffed teddy bear
eyes.

I had sneaked in before Mark, and purchased the ulu for him, since he is so difficult to gather
any gift clues from, and had to disclose this, when he decided to buy it. Hopefully, the old brain
memory will erase this moment from his noggin altogether.

There was a couple from Hermosa Beach, CA, also in the shop at one point, and I engaged
them with information of Max also living there, as well as Manhattan Beach once being my
childhood home. He had worked for TRW, where Tracy also did, which bought my old Aviation
High School campus, eventually. They had lived in Australia and England for several years,
looking for a place to root, and even considered Sandpoint, at one time, but realized many
pleasant places also had weather to contend with in winter; hence, Hermosa Beach. Salmon
fishing was on their agenda, and then returning to So-Cal.

 

Onward, up to high places on The Top of the World Highway, which was grand and awesome!
The narrow dirt road has intimidated many along our travels, from even attempting it, but Mark
tells them it is fine, as long as you take it slow---not for those in a hurry. No railings, with a
thousand foot sheer drop on the steepest curves of this scenic, rivered, and mountainous ride.
We stopped numerous times to photograph the South Fork of the Forty Mile River, which shone
with luminous, light green algae on both shores at one bend.

The sky went from blue and sun-rich, to thunder grey with lightning in the distance, and a great
time to coincide with Mark's spotted campsite from before. Another long turn-out along a creek.
We have been watching the initially shallow and rocky water continue to flow faster and higher,
with this new rain, and now the rocks are submerged, as are the sandbars becoming. Perfect
afternoon for napping again, resuming our Uno battle, tuna casserole and freshly baked
chocolate chip cookies in the convection oven. Listening to collected music of Tingstad and
Rumbel, Yanni, David Lanz, The Rankin Family, Celtic tunes, and soft rock, accompanied by a
waltz with my guy. Sweet.