Potato Launcher

Probably our most outrageous source of entertainment in Dillingham was the potato launcher.

Our boss built it from PVC pipe—just the right diameter to snugly fit a potato down the barrel. At the base, he attached a wider plastic chamber with a screw-off cap, where we’d spray in the “fuel”: Aqua Net hairspray. (It worked great until they changed the formula; after that, we had to switch brands. The key was finding something flammable.)

He rigged it with an old electric grill starter and a bolt inside the chamber, so all it took was pressing a red button to send a spark across the chamber and ignite the hairspray. We kept a broomstick handy to use as a ramrod whenever a potato didn’t quite fit.

When you hit the button, it let off a loud bang that echoed through the trees, and the potato launched with surprising velocity. My supervisor once speculated that a direct hit could break a man’s ribs.

Potato Launcher.

Taking aim.

Todd prepares to launch a potato.

We used to set up targets in the backyard and fire the potato gun at them—usually an old trash can lid propped up with rocks.

That was one of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way we could’ve gotten away with that in a suburban neighborhood without drawing the attention of the neighbors—and probably law enforcement.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 17, 2004]

Death to Tyrants

When we were living in rural Alaska, my brother Todd and I decided to celebrate one particular 4th of July by building and burning a tyrant's effigy. He had a balloon head and a body stuffed with straw. Went up in flames good, like a tyrant should.

Here's pics:

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Jan. 4, 2004]

Aleknagik

Besides fishing, you could also screw around in watercraft on Lake Aleknagik, though that was often incorporated into fishing as well.

Our crew, most days.

Skif Pilot Jonnie.

 One section of Lake Aleknagik featured the wreckage of a WWII barge which we enjoyed climbing around on.

The old barge.

Todd welcoming us aboard.

Glen tying anchoring our skif to the barge.

Fishing off the barge.

Fishing off the barge was amazing, the river's current would momentarily trap the salmon against the barge and you could look right down at them. Theoretically, the salmon wouldn't even have to bite, it would not be difficult to just snag them with your hook ("snagging" is illegal by the way, it wasn't uncommon for Fish & Game to check your fish to make sure they were hooked legally in the mouth).

It was also fun to explore the barge, though most of it was flooded. I don't know any of the barge's history, except that it was from WWII and that it was too expensive to remove and dispose of it. As of the mid-1990s, it had just been sitting there for fifty years or so.

Remains of a WWII era bathroom.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 21 2004]

Walk Dude

Dillingham, Alaska, when my brother Todd and I were there (1995–1997), was a very secluded part of the world—it still is, I guess, but internet availability probably changes a lot. When I was there, we had no internet, though we did have cable TV, so we weren’t entirely disconnected in terms of information, even back then. It was certainly physically disconnected, though. There were no roads to or from Dillingham; it was more of a hub town for a handful of scattered Yu'pik villages and a boat harbor with access to Bristol Bay. No fast food, though there were a couple of restaurants, bars, and grocery stores.

One year, our supervisor directed us to participate in the local parade. We drove the company van through the streets of Dillingham. While we didn’t have it together enough to create a proper float, we felt we should haul something, so we put an old Nordic Track exercise machine on the flatbed trailer and hauled that behind us. Our supervisor created a wooden figure which we all referred to as the “Walk Dude.” We added a few balloons and some signage to identify ourselves, and we were good to go.

The company van.

The "Walk Dude."

Signage, balloons, and brother Todd.

Driving into town.

It may not have been the most impressive parade float to ever see the light of day, but it served its purpose and it was hilarious. The weather was also terrible for a parade which made the whole endeavor ridiculous.

Once we hit town, there was a pretty good turnout:

 We threw out so much candy. The kids loved it.

 

It was pretty fun hauling a muddy balloon-decorated Nordic Track through town on a flatbed and throwing candy to the crowd.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 11 2004]

Salmon Days

Also in Dillingham - so much salmon!

You could catch a lot just by fishing for them normally, but members of the native population were able to apply for set net permits, which would really bring in a bounty. Set netting involves anchoring and setting out a net on the beach at low tide. The net fills with fish at high tide, then you return again at the next low tide to gather your catch.

This method made for an abundant catch, but it also involved a lot of work cleaning all the fish before they went bad. It also required a lot of freezer space, but it only took setting the net two or three times to be supplied with salmon for the rest of the year.

After a day of fishing.

Checking the set net at low tide.

After unloading the set net, we'd make a processing line in the yard then haul all the guts & bones to the dump so they wouldn't attract bears.

Fillet-master Mike.

Look at those fillets.

DP & me.

 We would catch so many, our freezers would fill up, so we would smoke the fish for preservation.  I really miss having all that smoked salmon around.

Gill Bros. checking the smoker.

Smoked deliciousness.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 16 2004]

Going Digital

While the Internet was not readily available in rural Dillingham, Alaska, where I spent the mid-90s, we did have cable TV, so I kept hearing all about how great the Internet was. At first, it seemed like a fad. Initially, I thought they were just talking about email and that people were overenthusiastic about it. Then you'd hear about kids causing trouble from information they found on the Internet and all the rampant porn. That's when I started getting excited about going online—so much information so easily accessible! In the analog world, you had to really hunt around for things.

When I returned to Anchorage in 1997, the World Wide Web (then commonly known as the "Information Super-Highway") was a mainstream phenomenon, but I still had never used a browser in my life. I was able to self-educate myself in the free computer labs of the University of Alaska, Anchorage.

"Fuck you, ape face!"

My brother was working on a digital scanning project for the campus library at that time, and one day he showed me how the scanner worked, which amazed me. He scanned a random comic book image I had with me and then showed me how easily you could add text. I've saved that image to this very day. It’s the one captioned, "Fuck you, Apeface."

We added that text to the original image. Pretty clever, huh?

Another Gilliom Bros. collaboration was, "Jesus Has Joined the Workforce" (below):

Jesus has joined the Work Force!

Yep.