Thursday August 5

Woke up and walked around the wacky village of Talkeetna for what I thought was going to be the last time. Talkeetna has been a great little stop. Centrally located, yet slightly off the beaten path, it has been a warm and welcome pit stop as I crisscrossed the state through out the summer. Talkeetna has two very distinct personalities. As I stated before, it is the “quaint little Alaskan town” stop for the Princess Cruise Lines with it’s hourly waves of name tag wearing visitors passing down it’s Main Street, like waves of salmon passing upstream. Talkeetna’s other personality is one that contains a special group of very unique characters who seemingly would never fit into mainstream society. These are the locals, the lifers who endure the tourist invasions as well as the insane winters. They are unique like no other. Being a regular visitor to Talkeetna at this point, I have given many of them nicknames. They included:

- Hula Hoop Girl, I’ve never seen anyone hula hoop better with one hoop. She hoops for hours on the town lawn.

- Tight Rope Guy, the kid sets up how own wire between two trees and does stunts on it, for hours. He invites anyone who passes by to get on the wire.

- Rodney, The only black person in town. By day, running the register at the Tesoro station 14 miles out of town. By night, manning the door at the historic Fairview Inn. Often times, doing both jobs in the same day, also does an excellent rendition of Don King haircut.

- Fruity Fly Guy, passed out free samples of smoked salmon and conned people into McKinley flight seeing trips, when it was so rainy you couldn’t even see though the shop windows.

- The Skulkers, a group of 20-30 year old scurvy looking people who skulked around town looking as if they were up to no good and were often drinking bottles of whiskey in the middle of the park at any time of day.

-I have been observing these quirky folk from afar. In my opinion no person has a greater visual impact on Talkeetna than a guy who I nicknamed, “The Mayor” (Actually the Mayor of Talkeetna is a cat named Stubbs who was legitimately voted in by the town’s people as a write in a candidate, Talkeetna right?) My guy, “The Mayor”, was all over town, but in a subtle kind of way. He knew every little back way and short cut and slipped around town and seemingly made everyone’s day. He was quiet but hugged people until their hats fell off. He wore the coolest leather jacket with a design on the back he painted himself. It appeared that he was jobless as he was ever present. One thing was for sure, everyone who knew him, loved him.

So as I ate my bagel in the chairs outside the general store I watched “The Mayor” do his thing. Moving around town making everyone happy. I was to leave Talkeetna today. I’d probably not see it’s cast of characters again and it was bittersweet.

Heading out of town I was in search of a place called Sunshine Creek. 45 minutes up the Parks Highway I realize I passed it 30 miles ago. It was a river that was first suggested to me by Rob at Sportsman’s Warehouse in Fairbanks on the first day of my arrival in Alaska. You may remember this. I was in a debate now whether to drive all the way back, essentially retracing my steps. Rob said he’d even be there around the beginning of August. I felt like I had to go back.

Surprisingly, when I arrived Rob was actually there fishing. It was good to see him again and swap stories. We shot the breeze about my trip and his summer. He was thrilled to know that I followed the plan for the entire summer that he helped me formulate almost exactly as we had planned it 2 months ago.

The fishing experience was another wacky one.

The Sunshine Creek deal was similar to other situations I’d encountered in Alaska, where one clear creek meets a silty, grey, glacier river. The fish seem take a break from swimming in the silt to clean their gills in the clear adjoining stream. It creates an ever-changing group of fish continuously entering and exiting the clear water. You can see this “edge” in the photo included. My plan now was to catch a limit of silver salmon, filet them, and bring them to a fish-processing center, have them smoked, and shipped home. The first silver came easily, about a 7 pounder. The second one took 6 hours. During that 6 hour span I was surrounded by quite a variety of folks.

Group one included a snaggle-toothed family, papa with his double barrel slung over his shoulder. His 7 year old daughter I needed to adopt, to save from the disaster her life was probably going to end up being. I wanted to abduct her and return her to her family 15 years later after she graduated BU and have her say, with the perfect smile, “Remember me??”

Group two included a big mouthed yahoo from Minnesota who, halfway down the trail was heard yelling to anyone who would listen, how amazing it was that he was in Minnesota just that morning and how lucky and incredible it was that he ended up here fishing in Alaska just 6 hours later. You would think someone who seems so enthusiastic about fishing, would know something about it. Him and his pals showed up on the scene way under gunned with two little trout rods, then hemmed and hawed every time a fish broke off. It turns out the guy really did know almost nothing about what he was doing. He proceeded to pummel my pal Rob for the next 3 hours with every ridiculous question under the sun. Rob had some kind of patience to deal with that guy. The man was way too loud…simply put he removed any possible serenity from the day’s fishing experience.

Group three included Uncle Mikey and his two nephews. Let’s just say, these two kids weren’t playing with a full deck. For example, they asked why we weren’t trying to catch the fish that were half dead on the stringer…….I was like, huh? They pretty much irritated everyone who was fishing at one point or another….getting in the way, squeezing between people to cast, crossing people’s lines with their casts…..one kid played with a half dead salmon for like 3 hours. It got a little creepy. Uncle Mikey? Well, he had nothing to say to anyone including the two nitwits.

After landing the second Coho salmon, Rob performed the Alaskan fillet on ‘em both. We took some photos and went our separate ways. What a solid guy Rob was. Sportsman’s in Fairbanks was lucky to have a guy like him there, ultra patient and super knowledgeable on all things Alaskan. I was completely lucky to have crossed paths with him. Thanks for everything Rob.

Back to wacky Talkeetna for the cherry on top of an already wacky wonderful day. Who do I end up alone in the TV room at the Fairview Inn with? You got it, Mark, the man about Talkeetna. We actually got to talk for a while. He was sincerely happy when I told him how I’d been watching all the warmth and friendliness he'd been dishing out over the summer. He was a totally a cool guy.

This morning I thought I’d be heading out of town. Meeting Rob at Sunshine Creek and wanting to catch some fish to send home, I found myself bedding down for the night back in my favorite camping spot in all Alaska, Main Street, Talkeetna, AK. All was good.