Chicken Report

Chicken, Alaska has a year-round population of seven, most of whom consist of the postmaster and the postmaster's family. The next logical question, I posed to the bartender: To whom does the postmaster deliver mail? To which I received the reply that folks who live in Chicken in summer, have their mail forwarded to them wherever else they are during the rest of the year. So much of this boggles my mind. Mail flying into Chicken, which is not road-accessible in winter, and then getting sent back somewhere else. A family staying in Chicken, all by themselves, all winter. Huh.

During the Chickenstock Bluegrass Festival, the population swells to a whopping 200 or so, 2900% of the town's population. There is plenty of space for camping; the outhouses never get full or smelly; you can carry your beer from the festival while you walk all over town; dogs are allowed everywhere, including the festival grounds; what's not to like? Oh, the best part? A local colony of swallows keeps the mosquitoes at bay.

Another interesting thing is that unlike most other small Alaskan towns and villages, Chicken and its (relatively) nearby communities of Eagle, Circle, Central are predominantly white and not Native. That's because they were settled by miners and, more recently, outdoorspeople looking to 'get away from it all', as they say.

Chickenstock "works" for several reasons. Firstly, the pun is completely irresistible. "Tokstock", "Eaglestock", or "Circlestock" just wouldn't have the same ring to them. Secondly, it's the perfect distance from 'civilization' (five hours' drive from Fairbanks) to make it feasible as a road trip, but far enough away to force you to spend a night, and some money, locally. Thirdly, bluegrass as a music genre tends to attract peaceful folks. For a music festival to be out in the middle of nowhere, in a small town with no police presence and no security force, I think bluegrass is the only type of music that would attract a relatively safe and peaceful crowd. I'm sorry to stereotype, but I don't think a heavy metal or rap concert would work in Chicken. Fourthly, the local folks in Chicken are warm and friendly and genuinely like their visitors. A lot of small-town Alaskans who live off the road system (Chicken counts in winter, when the Taylor highway is closed and it becomes accessible by air only) really like their privacy and solitude, if you know what I mean. They would not take kindly to 200 hippies showing up to camp and play music for a loud, lively weekend.

Anyway, here are my photos:

Rather a nice lunch spot, wouldn't you say?


Lupins are already in bloom here:


Linden not stealing food:

See, I have the World's Most Perfect Dogs.

Goobers:


The Taylor Highway going North from the Alcan to Eagle:

The potholes and frost heaving/buckling in the Taylor Highway are repaired using locally quarried gravel. The local rock is pink, so parts of the highway are pink!

Welcome to Chicken!




Fairbanks Exploration Company Gold Dredge No. 4, sister to Dredge No. 3, in Chatanika:


Downtown Chicken:

There are a tourist trinket shop, a pub, and a cafe. What more do you need?

The pub:


Dawgs! Chicken is very dog-friendly, and is filled with friendly dogs.


Phew! Are they pooped!


This is across the road. The suburbs of Chicken, if you will.


Cool old trucks in the suburbs of Chicken:


Lupins and daisies! Sorry this is a crummy photo because Autumn and Linden wanted to be in it, and I had to shove them back.


Chicken Creek:


The old sluice next to which we camped:


Somehow we cheesed off this bird. He perched there and eyeballed us and made hrrmfy noises at us for a good ten minutes.

The excellent whatbird.com says he is a White-crowned Sparrow.

The girls have to be tied while we hang out at camp. Huskies are very motivated at taking self-guided tours!


Most folks camped by the gold dredge:


The festival grounds:


Meese take their babes to Chickenstock, too!


This way, this way! Meese want to have coffee and shop for trinkets!


"Hurry, hurry, before we miss the best music!"


"Let's set up camp first, then sight see."
"But Mama! I wanna go to the cafe and have pie and ice cream!"


"Don't wanna camp too close to these featherless bipeds. They smell funny."


See even MORE meese photos here.

Time to go home! The Taylor Highway, looking South:


Lunch on the way home is as beautiful as lunch on the way there:


Beautiful drive!


One of the rivers we crossed (I forgot the name) was still covered with ice! It's like spring plumb forgot to come to one river! How weird!