Van Log, 1994: Minnesota

Big Buffalo Bill.

Day 2, 10:21 am: 75 miles from Minneapolis. First roadkill of the day was a decapitated deer. Just blood everywhere. A bloodbath.

OK, there's a Historical Marker. We just passed it. This is not the Mississippi River, this is the St. Croix. I guess it makes sense. In St. Paul they had maps of the Mississippi & we're not anywhere near St. Paul. We'll see the St. Croix instead, which seemed a mighty river to me. It joins the Mississippi.

We're now at the borderland of the two gas station giants of the United States - Amaco & Texaco. Amaco's on that side of the St. Croix & Texaco's on this side. I wonder if that affects price fixing.

We're waiting for the drawbridge to close. It's slow.

We got out where the Mississippi meets the St. Croix & looked around. The Mississippi's muddy. Todd found a lure, we peed in the Mississippi, a train went by. There's a bar here called Seal's Place & another called Boat Drinks and there's a boat with Beavis & Butthead painted on it.

Peeing in the Mighty Mississippi.

We're south of St. Paul - at K-Mart. We stopped to call Kathie & she's not home.

2:30 pm: We're in Minneapolis. Everybody here drives the speed limit. We're going to let Mel drive.

Mile Marker 159 on 19 West in Minnesota. It's the most beautiful country we've seen yet. The wind's tough, isn't it Mel? I've never seen Mel sit up so straight unless he was trying to prove something to somebody. Convince somebody of something. To make a point. Those horses were looking at us back there when we changed drivers. There's the "Broujak Funeral Home" and a kid.

Mel hasn't hit anyone. Thank God. We've left the town. There was a mailbox back there that was hit. Not by Mel. The van is unscathed. No roadkill, no mishaps of any kind. Laura's drawing pictures & Jonnie's on the top bunk, we're playing Lou Reed.

For the first time on the trip, I've felt the pressure that says I'm at a different altitude.

The soil here is black. It is just chock full of life-giving nutrients and it will still be good in 100 years.

We ate at the feet of Buffalo Bill Cotdy's statue. We ate on the ground because none of us could ever stand shoulder to shoulder with Buffalo Bill.

Back at the Frontier Village there was a big Buffalo Bill & a big buffalo.

Are you still with us?

Stay with us at least into South Dakota

Or, go anywhere:  

Van Log '94: A Collective Narrative:

Forward by Todd               South Dakota, pt. 1               Washington

Leaving Indiana                South Dakota, pt. 2               British Columbia

Illinois                               Wyoming                               Hyder, AK (side trip)

Wisconsin                         Montana                                Yukon Territory

Minnesota                         Idaho                                     Alaska

Van Log, 1994: Wisconsin

We've just been welcomed to Wisconsin. I'm looking out over expansive rolling hills with some trees. This is the Wisconsin dairy land we're talking about and it's beautiful. We just passed through a very small town called "Slade's Corner" which, according to the sign, is "unincorporated."

Stretching our legs in Winnebago, Wisconsin.

We're at Lake Geneva. A lot of green in this town. Headquarters of TSR, who had complete domination over my life in high school. 

It's cold in Geneva and they don't even know it.

We saw a sign for Champ's advertising their chicken and a place called Fat Cat's. A bar.

Our waitress commented, "Isn't the weather nice?" We thought she was just joking; or making conversation, but she was referring to the bad weather here earlier that we missed.

"Hair of the Dog" Grooming. Play that Ramones cover album next.

Instead of naming their counties, Wisconsin identifies them with letters,but they do name their towns.

We stopped for cigarettes pretty much & they were overpriced. We're getting into the potato salad now, thanks Andy.

9:55 pm - We're sitting in the parking lot of a funeral home or something with a blinking light. It stopped now, but it was blinking erratically. We stopped because we're not sure what's going on because Highway 50 ended. We're looking at the map now. It'll turn into Highway 14. We're listening to Ween and I'm craving drugs. We're parked in a "Drug Free Zone" too. We dedicate Ween to the "Drug Free Zone". This is exactly where we wanted to go.

10:30 pm - Our first roadkill: Blood for at least 30 feet & just a mutilated deer. Not a very big one. Carnage.

Earlier today, I saw a roadkill that I didn't think was worth reporting because our hitchhiker was present. It was a groundhog. There was no visible wound, but it was swelled up like it was ready to pop. It was in bad shape. There were no visible smears, but there were definitely small chunks surrounding the area. It could've been a man. It was just bloody carnage. Land of Semis and Roadkills.

I would say that Wisconsin is big on corn, fudge, no shirts, closing early & ice cream advertisements.

There's another martini glass on the Steak Pit sign. There are a lot of signs here with Caribbean ads. Resort themes. I've gotta pee & we've gotta find gas. We're looking for a gas station.

"Ride the Ducks - Wisconsin Ducks". There's no gas station, but we could ride the ducks. Wisconsin has its priorities straight. Let's not go to Alaska. Lets just work in Wisconsin Dells & live in the van. I'll work at the gas station, you work at the Taco Bell.

We're in the Wisconsin Dells, lots of tourist shit. "Open All Night", but "No Wine After Nine".

When I was in the gas station, two guys of obvious Native decent saw my earring & asked me, "Wakka Tu?". I have no idea what that meant & I asked them what it meant & they said, "Never mind" and walked away. I asked the gas station attendant what it meant and she said the Indians here are really hip on being Indians and usually they'll stop and explain it to you; but they were drunk and that's why they didn't. I guess she knew them.

Two clocks say it's 9:30 & two say it's midnight! Who to believe?

I anticipate that when I have a family & children, I'll take them to the Wisconsin Dells. "Big Chief Go-Kart World", "Family World", "Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum", "Norman Rockwell Museum", "Biblical Gardens", "Ride the Ducks", "Mexicali Siesta", plenty of taverns, "Competitive Go-Kart Prices", "Boat Ahead", water slides, a lot of fun.

"El Roy Sparta".

1:00 am - I saw a shape fly by. We're balling it through Wisconsin.

Let me tell you about this roadkill: I didn't see any arms or legs nor did I see any wounds were they once may have been. It was cigar shaped & there was a spot of blood on each end.

I was in the fast lane passing a truck & I looked down between my wheels & there was a roadkill, right in the center of the 2nd lane. It was kind of round like a puffball & I wouldn't hit him. I'm not going to hit any. Ah...I dropped a cigarette & it's way down.

We stopped at a rest-stop & Mel's getting his boots on.

These people are confused. They have lofty expectations.

Will expectations be so lofty elsewhere? 
Find out in Minnesota

Or, go anywhere:  

Van Log '94: A Collective Narrative:

Forward by Todd               South Dakota, pt. 1               Washington

Leaving Indiana                South Dakota, pt. 2               British Columbia

Illinois                               Wyoming                               Hyder, AK (side trip)

Wisconsin                         Montana                                Yukon Territory

Minnesota                         Idaho                                     Alaska

Van Log, 1994: Illinois

Our hitchhiker's parting words: "Life is short and pain is long. We're all put on this Earth to help each other."

We're in Chicago & we dropped Andy off. He's going to the youth hostel, gonna look someone up. We're in the Chicago traffic trying to get on, but it looks pretty bleak. Downtown Chicago viewed from the expressway at a crawl.

We're at a standstill. We're below Zero miles per hour on the speedometer and the Animals are playing on the tape deck. We'll probably hear the whole tape before we get out of here.

The scenery is as follows: Billboard that says, "Everybody Gets Their Asphalt from Sherwin (414) 281-6400".

Other scenery: There's a Pizza Hut all you can eat for $3.99.

Something that says, "Butter" on the sign. It could be a factory. It's not a store.

There's a Delta Catfish Processors Factory Incorporated. A couple of church steeples peeking off in the distance, then there's a car sign way up above everything.

In contrast to the drab greys - and even a drab red! - there's a drab red building! Lots of beige & dirty white.

Now we're going along at more than a crawl, but I don't think for long.

There's a billboard for "Apple Beeper".

Now we're close to the Apple Beeper sign. There's a chick in a swimsuit on the billboard & it's like you could touch her. She sticks out.

6:31pm: We're up to 43 mph on the expressway. We're finally moving. It can't be as bad as it was.

Will it be as bad as it was?

Find out in Wisconsin

Or, go anywhere:  

Van Log '94: A Collective Narrative:

Forward by Todd               South Dakota, pt. 1               Washington

Leaving Indiana                South Dakota, pt. 2               British Columbia

Illinois                               Wyoming                               Hyder, AK (side trip)

Wisconsin                         Montana                                Yukon Territory

Minnesota                         Idaho                                     Alaska

Van Log, 1994: Leaving Indiana

We're all together, our own calendar. Month of Departure the 1st. 

We're finally done talking about it, planning, getting everybody together, and we're on the way right now. The wheels are rolling and we're on the road. We've got pop and cigarettes and we're getting out of working in the garden today. They're growing peppers and tomatoes and tobaccy. Gotta go get the cash and that's it.

Van Crew, '94: Todd, Jonnie, Mel, & Laura. Ready to leave Indiana.

We were planning on leaving earlier, but everybody had shit to do. It wasn't a deadline anyway.

Laura went into Pizza Chef to get her check. We're gonna go into the bank and cash it and it's gonna be a long ride.

We've crossed the 1st border of the trip. We're in Kosciusko County. I may never be back in Whitley County.

First hitchhiker. Maybe. We're going to go talk to him.

Andy! He's going to Chicago. We could take him further if he wanted to.

There's a giant dragon and there's a giant inflatable ape in a used car lot - A NEW car lot!! And there's a big bull. This is the Land of the Giants.

"Valparaiso is - in addition to the huge bull and the huge dragon - there's a huge mound of dirt in the middle of nowhere..."

"It's a huge anthill!"

"But the Bigboy at Azar's was small."

"Maybe compared to the bull he just seemed small."

"Indiana's own Little Texas."

So far, so good. 
Continue to Illinois

Or, go anywhere:  

Van Log '94: A Collective Narrative:

Forward by Todd               South Dakota, pt. 1               Washington

Leaving Indiana                South Dakota, pt. 2               British Columbia

Illinois                               Wyoming                               Hyder, AK (side trip)

Wisconsin                         Montana                                Yukon Territory

Minnesota                         Idaho                                     Alaska

Van Log, 1994: Forward by Todd

The Van Log was a good companion in 1994. A battery-operated one-speaker cassette recorder/player, a confidant, and a witness to a cross-country trek of four Hoosier youths in search of adventure and fortune in the fish processing industry of Valdez, Alaska.

Adventure is easily had for such an optimistic and desperate troupe as we were, equipped with a knack for being entranced by nearly anything to be found outside our small hometown in Indiana. The notion of finding fortune (the other goal of our journey) in fish processing is, of course, absurd.

We might now be judged to have acted foolishly or naively, but the truth is that while we sought adventure and fortune, we did not really care that much whether we succeeded or not.

Three of us had made various parts of the journey before, so we knew ahead of time some of the possibilities and hardships that lay before us. So, with nothing to gain or lose, we hoped for the best.

In 1994, the Van Log was nothing new however. The idea of the Van Log was originated in 1992, by a different group of travelers, two of whom returned for the 1994 trip. The term "Van Log" was originally derived from Star Trek's "Captain's Log," and some of the entries include reference to "Van Date," an attempt to transform a clear statement of date and time into a confusing jumble of numbers, in imitation of the star dates on Star Trek. At some point, the jumbled van date is abandoned in favor of just saying what time it is.

Van Log O.G.s, 1992: Mel, Todd, & Ross.

On to part 1: Leaving Indiana

Or, go anywhere:  

Van Log '94: A Collective Narrative:

Forward by Todd               South Dakota, pt. 1               Washington

Leaving Indiana                South Dakota, pt. 2               British Columbia

Illinois                               Wyoming                               Hyder, AK (side trip)

Wisconsin                         Montana                                Yukon Territory

Minnesota                         Idaho                                     Alaska

Van Log, 1994: A Collective Narrative

Van Log '94.

May, 1994: Brother Todd and I, along with our friends Mel and Laura, left our hometown of Columbia City, Indiana, to embark on a cross-country road trip to Valdez, Alaska. Officially, we made the journey to work in the fishing industry, but it was also about getting some kicks and enjoying a change of scenery. We drove Todd’s green 1974 Ford Econoliner van, complete with a fried egg decal on the side and orange shag carpet on the interior walls.

Van Log: We brought along an audio cassette tape recorder to log any comments or observations we felt were worth remembering. The recorder, along with the collection of nine or ten audio tapes we made, became known as the "Van Log."Van Log 1994 is a collective narrative, much like Wikipedia. Instead of identifying individual speakers when transcribing the audio tapes, I blended everyone’s statements into one running commentary. The same paragraph might incorporate statements from any or all four of us, or it could even include comments from a fifth or sixth person who happened to be around the tape recorder at the time. Van Log '94 is perfectly coherent without identifying each individual speaker, though I occasionally placed conversational dialogue in quotation marks to indicate when a conversation was taking place between two (or more) people.

We were all unseasoned travelers at the time, and what might come across as naive, irresponsible, or even stupid in these logs was, in reality, just careless youthful exuberance and (possibly misdirected) lust for life in all of us. Some of the things we did were embarrassingly stupid, but that was part of the adventure—learning through experience, no matter how misguided at times.

Forward by Todd               South Dakota, pt. 1               Washington

Leaving Indiana                South Dakota, pt. 2               British Columbia

Illinois                               Wyoming                               Hyder, AK (side trip)

Wisconsin                         Montana                                Yukon Territory

Minnesota                         Idaho                                     Alaska

                                    

Mr. T's Birthday

Here's a photo collage of my friend Wendy and I celebrating, "Mr. T's Birthday." We were really just enjoying the novelty of a rubber Mr. T head attached to the end of a walking cane accompanied by various fast foods.

Mr. T's Birthday.

Whopper w/ Cheese: An Entirely Different Sandwich

College diploma & BK uniform;
Summer, 1993.

After graduating from college, I briefly worked at Burger King to get by while I looked for a better job. During this time, BK was offering their Whopper for 99 cents, which was normally around $2.25 or something like that. The Whopper with Cheese, however, retained its original price of $2.49 (or whatever) because the manager claimed it was “an entirely different sandwich” and was not subject to the regular Whopper discount.

Justifying that arrangement and explaining the distinction to customers made my first week of work pretty annoying. It was a customer service nightmare because people kept ordering the 99-cent Whopper and requesting cheese on it, then freaking out when they were charged $2.49 instead of the expected $1.09. They’d look at me in disbelief and say, “You’re trying to charge me $1.50 for a piece of cheese?”

Then I was required to say, “Yes, we are,” and explain to them that the Whopper with Cheese was an entirely different sandwich, which was not on sale at this time. I felt like a real dick, and in that stupid hat too.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, May 14, 2006]

Records of Time

Getting rid of a stack of old Time magazines, Columbia City, IN; March 18, 1993:

A. Our first delivery was to Ballard Wood at the Columbia City Kentucky Fried Chicken. We gave him (or more literally, gave his manager) the December 25, 1989 issue of Time with Tom Cruise on the cover. Scrawled in red ink was the personalized message, “For Ballard, Love Ya”.

B. The second delivery was delivered with legal sanction after a girl at the Kentucky Fried Chicken had interpreted the Tom Cruise issue of Time magazine as a “pornographic book” and called the police who were glad to learn that we were only getting rid of our old Times. It was at this point when we received legal sanction and the Law suggested writing “For Ya” instead of “Love Ya” on the cover of future issues. We decided to avoid the problem entirely and wrote instead, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” on the cover of the December 11, 1989 issue of Time (the cover was very good and depicted both George Bush and Gorbachev) and delivered it anonymously into the mailbox on the intersection of 9 and 14.

C. The third delivery was for the Yoders and was, more specifically, the January 15, 1990 issue of Time featuring an Antarctica cover story with a gorgeous penguin on the cover. We added, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” in red ink.

D. The next delivery was one of the most appropriate ones of all. We found the January 1, 1990 “Man of the Decade” issue which boasted a huge close-up of Gorbachev’s face in a stately greyish silver hue. It looked just like Bob Britain, and in fact that’s exactly who we delivered it to, with “Bob, Bob, Do You Have Enough Time?” scrawled across the massive face. It was a very good tribute to Bob we thought.

E. The January 22, 1990 issue of Time (the one with the “Murder in Boston” cover story) was delivered in person by myself to Quincy’s pool hall (to Todd Wise in particular) with the message, “Quincy’s Quincy’s Do You Have Enough Balls?” written on it. I was very embarrassed to deliver this to them in person.

F. A random mailbox on Airport Road received the February 26, 1990 issue of Time with the curious message, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” written on the cover.

G. This is delivery “G”, but in reality FOUR deliveries were actually left here because it was Chad Fry’s house. I’ll describe them all individually.

1. The first was for Chad and was the February 5, 1990 issue of Time featuring a “Mandela: Free `at Last” cover story. We added, “Chad, Chad, Go! GO! GO!” in red marker.                2. The March 2, 1990 issue was dedicated to Travis Fry, the cover dealing with Soviet Disunity. We added in red ink, “Travis, Travis, Do You Have Enough Time?”               3. We saved the “Starting Over” February 19, 1990 issue of Time for Denny and wrote in black, “Denny, Denny, Do You Have Enough Time?”               4. Finally, we gave Kathy the March 5, 1990 issue of Time which dealt with the subject of  “Gossip”.  We, in all respect wondered, and added in red, “Kathy, Kathy, How Much Can You Take?”

H. Julie Kissinger was the recipient of the December 4, 1989 issue of Time which dealt with the subject of “Women in the 90s”. We added the question, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” to the original cover. I think we missed her mailbox, but she should have found the magazine anyway. It was laying in plain sight at the base of the mailbox. I wish we would have put it in the mailbox properly. But I wouldn’t consider that to be a mistake, its just a personal improvement that I would have made if I weren’t outvoted by the others.

I. The February 12, 1990 issue of Time featured a cover story about, “The Germans” and we gave this one to Jet and Anne Thompson along with the question, “Anne, Anne, and Jet, Jet, Which Side Are You On?” There was controversy in the van about adding Anne to the message, but I did and we couldn’t really just scribble her name out once it was written.

J. A glorious delivery was made to the home of Duane and Mel. We left them the “When Tyrants Fall” issue of Time (the specific date of which has been lost in our records), to which we added, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?”.

K. Mr. Longenbaugh received the January 29, 1990 issue of Time (an issue dealing with the NRA). We originally meant to give it to Bryan, so it said, “Bryan, Bryan, Do You Have Enough time?” on the cover.

L. A December 1989 issue of Time, an issue addressing the problem of “Money Laundering” was delivered to Mrs. Stroup. On the cover was written, “Senora! Senora! Donde esta su penis?” Before each “Senora”, an upside-down exclamation mark was added in the Spanish style. I also jotted a little bit more Spanish on the back cover, but our record of this is lost. I just thought I’d mention it. It was no big deal.

M. The March 26, 1990 issue of Time (featuring “The Germans”) was intended for Shane Yunken, but was left in the yard of one of his neighbors instead. We wrote “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” on the cover.

N. The November 27, 1989 issue of Time was left out for the Ivys. The cover story dealt with “Art and Money” and we asked the question (in writing, not in person), “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?”. It was left on a pile of debris in their yard.

Das Heilander Techno Tapes

Around 1993, my German friend from college, Rob, let my friend Wendy tape a ton of his techno music.  She shared copies of the cassettes with me and I made these tape covers using photocopies of photos of Rob, white highlighter, and colored markers.  

Saving them here, so I don't have to save the actual tapes.

Das Heilander, vol. 1.

Das Heilander, vol. 2.

Easter, 1992

Sitting across the street from a church, eating easter candy.

Easter, Apr. 19, 1992.

(L to R: Johanns, me, Jason S., Brother Todd).

Every Meximelt

Personal ad placed in the Valentine's Day edition of a local newspaper (Bloomington, IN; Feb. 1992). It is a message from Larry to Laura Lynn. I'm guessing Larry was a Taco Bell employee and Laura Lynn was a customer.

At one point, Larry had apparently taken a photograph of Laura Lynn during one of her visits to his establishment & published it in the local newspaper along with a personal message of love. 

Laura Lynn,

You don't know me, but I love you.

I work at Taco Bell.

I was thinking maybe you love me too,

because you're there so much.

It's your smile I see when I melt the cheese on every Meximelt.

Please be mine.

Larry

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Mar. 9, 2004]

More Smiles Per Gallon

I used to refer to this Sunoco sign as, "the face that haunts my nightmares." It seemed to be posted everywhere in Bloomington, Indiana in 1992.

Christmas Caroling, 1991

In 1991, Janel and Brandon joined Todd, Jonnie, and Mel on a spur of the moment Christmas Caroling spree throughout Columbia City. The greatest thing about this night was the fact it was unplanned and entirely spontaneous. We were knocking on people’s doors and sharing the yuletide spirit with friends and strangers alike. 

Christmas Caroling, 1991.

The only outsider account I’ve heard regarding this night came from an acquaintance that lived in an apartment complex we had visited. They did not answer the door when we knocked, but we sang gloriously in the corridors of the apartment building anyway. We later asked this person why they weren’t home and they replied, “I was home. I was actually sleeping. I remember hearing what sounded like a bunch of drunks singing, Here comes Santa Claus, Here comes Santa Claus in deep voices outside. I did not answer the door and tried to go back to sleep.”

Once we had visited everybody in our immediate vicinity, we piled into a car and drove to the center of town where we spread joy to a handful of other homes and to the local Pizza King. The last house we visited had a full-blown Christmas party in effect!  We went in for some punch, Brandon spilled his all over the table, and then we left.

5 Johns in the John

Growing up, most of the jobs or classes I’ve been part of almost always had more than one guy named John. To keep things straight, we’d usually have to add the first letter of each John’s last name—John S., John M., and so on.

Things were no different in 1991when I was working at a fish camp in Valdez, Alaska. There were several Johns working there, and one day we found ourselves swapping stories about how common our name was. Note: I use the common pronunciation, “John,” but my name is actually spelled (correctly) - Jon, without the silent “h.”

That’s when we had a collective notion to take a commemorative photo of all the Johns on the crew. The setting of course was in the men’s restroom – also known as the John.

As a bonus, there was a Japanese man pissing in the background, though he almost certainly was not named John.

L to R: Big John, Blond John, Me, Bearded John, & Jon A.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Feb. 2, 2004]

111 for 1

Probably the only existing image of the short-lived, homemade, 
campground bar. Valdez, AK; Summer, 1991.

One fishless day in Valdez, when work was slow, a few campsite entrepreneurs decided to make the best of it. Using old pallets and scrap plywood, they threw together a makeshift bar.

They stocked up on cheap beer, a couple bottles of whiskey, and a big tin of loose-leaf tobacco. Then they spread the word around the campground—and to any passing tourists:

One beer, one shot, one cigarette — One Dollar!

What a deal! Everyone was thrilled.

There wasn’t a real shot glass to be found, so enormous pours were served in a plastic cap that might’ve come from a can of shaving cream or spray deodorant. Nobody minded. You had to roll your own cigarette, too, but at that price, nobody complained. Some folks skipped the cigarette altogether, figuring a beer and a shot for a buck was already a steal.

It was a great time while it lasted—just a few hours—until the police showed up and shut it down.

Afterward, we tore the bar apart and tossed it on the bonfire.
The photo above is probably the only proof it ever existed.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Apr. 15, 2004]

Vending Machine Rant

One night in the Nautilus Marine break room, a tall, bearded, drunken hillbilly staggered in to buy something from a vending machine. He was dressed in a camouflaged jacket and rubber boots. He claimed the change machine short-changed him 25 cents which triggered what can only be described as a complete reversion to savagery.

I recorded his comments in a journal I was keeping at the time:

"A tall bearded hillbilly...claims the dollar bill changer only gave him 75 cents back for his dollar. His initial comment was, 'Hey!...It only gave me 75 cents!! But, hey!...That's all I need!' After he finished his snack though, he started beating on the change machine and yelling for somebody to 'Call the fuckin' cops'. 

He tried to write on the wall that the machine owed him money, but his pen was dry; so he hurled it against a nearby table and sat down with his face in his hands. Soon, he started to demand that somebody, 'Call the fuckin' cops'!!"  

"He says, 'If I robbed a liquor store, they'd call the cops on me; but this machine can rip me off a quarter and the cops don't even care.'" 

"Now he's swaying a lot. He can barely hold his head up straight. He's saying, 'Fuck America' and 'God Damn America' over and over and over again. Now he just added, 'God Bless Alaska'!! He'll be asleep soon." 

"Oh! He got a second wind. He's raving (to nobody in particular, just in case anybody's listening) - 'I live like an animal!...I'm a savage!!...If you don't believe me, if you think I'm full of shit, just live with me for a year - I'll show you how an animal lives'!!! ... 'I've been sleeping by railroad tracks and under trucks for years, usually with no heat"! [Jonnie comments: "ha ha, "usually"?] 'We're living in the end times...and when the cities fall, I'll be thriving'!!"

Packing Crew, Nautilus Marine; Valdez AK, 1991.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Sep. 27, 2004]

Alaska, 1990, pt. 1

Homer, AK, 1990.

In early 1990, my friend Paul and I began exploring options for an interesting summer job. Nothing stood out until Paul mentioned his aunt in Alaska and the possibility of working up there. Without hesitation, we decided to fly to Alaska and try our luck in the seafood industry for the summer.

At the time, Paul was a far more seasoned traveler than I was. In fact, it was my very first time on a plane. Alaska made an immediate and lasting impression on me. I was captivated by the sight of mountains in every direction, even in the heart of the city. I also fell in love with the cool summer climate and the eccentric people who called Alaska home.

Before the trip, I brought along a lantern, fully expecting to do some serious camping. Little did I know that Alaska barely gets dark in the summer! Fortunately, we were able to store the lantern at Paul’s aunt’s house.

We also bought a beat-up old car, which we affectionately named "The Abomination." It came with four studded tires for winter, though they weren’t much use during the summer. Thankfully, Paul’s aunt kindly allowed us to store those at her house as well.

The "pup tent", Working for Anne & Mean Gene, Ol' Tom Adams, & Claudia w/ customized rubber boots.

When it came to finding employment, we were completely winging it. Ultimately, we decided to drive out to Homer, where we set up camp on the Homer Spit—a 4.5-mile stretch of land jutting into the ocean. From there, we went door to door looking for work until a company called Keener Packing hired us to dig a ditch.

As it turned out, they initially planned to fire us once the ditch was dug. But, for whatever reason, they took a liking to us and decided to keep us on. We quickly became known as "the Pups" by everyone there, a nod to our complete lack of knowledge about fish or Alaska. Our campsite was affectionately dubbed "the Pup Tent."

Salty Dawg saloon, Paul from California, Melissa, Kennicott, the abandoned mining town.

We stayed in Homer through early July, eagerly anticipating the Fourth of July fireworks display over the ocean. However, the spectacle fell short of our expectations—Alaska’s endless summer daylight made it difficult to enjoy fireworks without the contrast of a dark sky.

By then, we realized we weren’t saving any money, so we decided to try our luck in the salmon fisheries of Valdez, which were rumored to offer plenty of overtime. Some of our co-workers at Keener knew the plant managers at Nautilus Marine. One of them even ran dog sleds with one of the foremen during the winter. They planned to meet us there, as we all prepared to jump ship from Keener.

Continued @ Alaska, 1990, pt. 2

Alaska, 1990, pt. 2

Kennicott, 1990.

On the road to Valdez, we took a 60-mile detour to visit McCarthy and Kennicott, an abandoned mining town. It wasn’t the most convenient stop, but we figured if we didn’t check it out then, when would we? The journey involved a treacherous 30-mile drive down a rough dirt road in the middle of nowhere. By the time we reached McCarthy, we had managed to ruin two tires.

Getting to McCarthy is an adventure in itself; you have to cross a river on a hand tram. So, we lugged our flat tire across the river and found a guy on the other side who specialized in tire repair. To our surprise, he fixed the tire for a surprisingly low fee. Considering how far we were from civilization, he could have charged us anything, but instead, he was shockingly fair.

McCarthy itself had a population of barely twenty-something people. It was quaint, but also a bit eerie, especially considering the dark history: years ago, a resident computer programmer went on a rampage, shooting up the town and taking out half the population, which amounted to about ten people. A real testament to the wild side of life in the Alaskan wilderness!

Plant foreman, "Mad" Max, Paul processing, me processing, & me on boat.

Well, after a pit stop in Anchorage, we finally made it to Valdez. We arrived with recommendations for Nautilus Marine, feeling confident with solid references and mutual acquaintances with some of the plant management. However, as it turned out, in the middle of salmon season, Nautilus hires just about anybody.

Icing salmon on the dock, working & playing in the ice house, packing w/ Erin.

Nautilus was hard work and long hours, but it was also a lot of fun. Every week, the community would host "The Feed" at a local church, where fishery workers from all around could come for a free meal. We also made it a point to have a drink at the bar where Captain Hazelwood got drunk before causing the Exxon Valdez oil spill.

Continued from Alaska, 1990, pt. 1

Grandma Hazel

Grandma Hazel in 1990.

Grandma Hazel, remembered by her children and grandchildren on the Gilliomville messageboard:

When Uncle Jon was a kid, he and Grandma Hazel witnessed a bunch of Mexicans drive by in a tomato truck. Hazel told him to stay away from Mexicans, “because they carry knives.”

Grandma would let us buy Cracked and Crazy magazines, but she thought Mad was "naughty.” I don't know what she saw in that magazine at some point in the past, but she definitely didn't like it. She'd check the titles before we went through our drugstore (Hooks) checkout and would not, under any circumstances, let us buy an issue of Mad magazine.

I remember those Vitamin Cs that Grandma used to give out (and she would encourage you to take several) that were supposed to help make you healthier. They tasted a lot like Sweet Tarts.

We'd often drop by Dairy Queen and she'd say, "If you're good, I'll get you a Mr. Misty; you can have any flavor except for red.” When asked why we couldn't get a red one, she said it’s because, "red makes kids hyper.” I’m Surprised Grandma didn't start an organization called GARP - Grandmas Against Red Pop.

She was also always predicting a HORRIBLE winter. She would say, "some lady says..."

Thanks for talking about Grandma Gilliom on here. I checked the board last night before I went to bed and last night I had a dream about her. Her hair was perfect.

Does anyone else remember seeing Grandma without her hair piece? She'd comb her hair out all crazy just before an appointment. I didn't see her like that very often, and it scared me to death.

Yeah! She looked wild without her wig on! Like a whole different person - an old witch! Her wig made her look much more poised and civilized.

Grandma Hazel used to whip up huge batches of caramel popcorn in the kitchen sink – she’d make caramel popcorn balls out of it. It was always a huge event when she’d do that.

I think we Gillioms have a special love for McDonalds due to Grandma Hazel. How many times she took Adam and me to Mikky Dees I couldn't tell you. but each time I was just as excited as the first time. That's what Happy Meals do to you. Ya know, I still order a good Happy Meal every now and then depending on how hungry I am.

Hazel used to LOVE McDonald's ice cream cones. She'd go there specifically for an ice cream cone. Breakfast too. Nowadays, I'm a big fan of the breakfast sandwich, but with Hazel we'd get the sit-down meals. Hazel wasn't one to eat on the run.

I remember when Grandma lived at Capri Meadows and you could see McDonald's from her window. Sometimes, when it was kind of late and we were thinking about making an ice cream cone run, she would tell me to, "check and see if the golden arches are lit up."

When she moved to the next place, we could actually WALK to McD's! That was even better. Vanilla ice cream cones and late night Skip-Bo...that brings back memories.

I think she quit cooking after she moved to the apartment. I remember
walking to McDonalds and Dairy Queen after that. She was big on
DQ banana splits.

Yeah - I remember her having meals delivered by the "Schwann Man" when she was living at the apartment. She was delighted by how good the food was.

I remember Dad saying he was in McDonalds with Grandma Hazel one time and she exclaimed (real loud like she did), "There sure are a lot of black people in here”!  Dad was real embarrassed and told her firmly, "Mom, if you don't settle down, I'm going to leave.” Grandma responded, "Well...There are!”

Grandma Gilliom was usually a really good cook. Her pancakes were excellent, but when it came to eggs, she always cooked the yolks really hard and you couldn't dip them. Uncle Jon and Uncle Rick used to comment a lot about, "mom's eggs."

For breakfast, I remember Grandma used to make us chocolate chip pancakes at the trailer.

And peanut butter spread on hot toast. That's another thing she got me into.

I love peanut butter on toast. I always thought it was weird when she did it, but it goes so well with coffee.

Remember when egg McMuffins first came out and Hazel decided to make them herself at home?

I was amazed at that. The McMuffin seemed like such a new thing and here Grandma Hazel mimics it instantly. I probably just wasn't familiar with English muffins at that point in time, so I was amazed that she made them just like McDonalds. I guess I thought if she made them at home, she would have to use bread or buns or something. They were an immediate favorite. She made those for years.

Remember when she used to make those doughnuts out of canned biscuits? A few years ago I called Mom and said, "I miss Grandma Gilliom. I think it's high time the great grandchildren experience her doughnuts." I can't say that the girls were terribly impressed.