Bawk-Bawk, Motherforkers

As always, this was a summer of checklists.  Many trips were crossed off; many were left unachieved.  With the summer waning and Rick's leave coming to an end, we had to prioritize.  Our final big outing for the summer was to Chicken, Alaska.

The incredibly well known and sophisticated metropolis of Chicken, population approximately 17, lies less than a hundred miles from the Canadian border.  Most people who wind up there are either lost, hunting, or need gas somewhere between Dawson City and Tok. An early gold-town, the settlers had wanted to name it Ptarmigan after the delicious and incredibly stupid birds that were so abundant around the town.  However, no one could spell it, so they called the town Chicken instead. It is also the location of a yearly grassroots music festival in June aptly named--you guessed it--Chickenstock. I was very disappointed that it was canceled this year for the first time ever.  

Thanks, Covid.  You suck.

Anyway, at the end of August I herded my longsuffering family into the van for the six hour drive to Chicken.  That might seem a little long for a day trip to an oddly named town only a little bigger than a truckstop, but only because you've never been to Alaska. Distance is measured in hours, not miles.  When you live with two to six hours (or more) between major towns, it changes your perspective a bit. 

This is a rest stop on the side of the Al-Can.  Lovely, right?

I hadn't been on the Al-Can Highway since we drove up four years ago. It's a long and empty highway twisting its way to the Canadian border.   After Delta Junction, the last town of note is Tok (rhymes with "poke" not "talk").  About fifteen miles or so after Tok we took a left onto the Taylor Highway.  The turnoff was unimpressive, little more than a side road with a thin sign.  I almost missed it.

This is not the sign I was talking about.  This is actually several miles onto the Taylor.

It was a gorgeous drive. Summer was fading around the edges, trading her emeralds for the russets, ochers, and plums of autumn; even those were dulling into the ashy grays and umbers that precede winter.  Patches of fireweed flared crimson on the sides of the highway. Pockets of charred, splintery spruce scarred the hills, memories of old fires.

 

We saw several animals on the drive, including a silver fox (actually just a melanistic coat variation of the more familiar red fox), a stoat (adorably furry little murder-weasel), and also...drumroll please...a lynx!  It was the first time I've ever seen one of those cats in the wild, and it was pretty cool.  They're so much bigger than you think, easily as big as some dogs, with feet like fluffy catcher's mitts.  I was driving or else there would be pictures.  As it is, I chose life over trying to work my camera and my vehicle at the same time.  There's only a little regret.

We rolled into Chicken a little after noon.  We hadn't seen many people on the road except for the lone senior citizen driving a camper, but as we got closer to Chicken we started to see more and more hunters pulled off the side of the road. Chicken itself is a handful of scattered buildings on three separate self-proclaimed Main Streets on the southern side of a creek.  Each site has its own cafe, gift store, and giant metal chicken.  

We started at Downtown Chicken.  It's a boardwalk connecting a saloon, a cafe, and a souvenir shop with a floor so slanted that you can see the slope of the linoleum.  The bathrooms were to the side, with separate holes for the chicks and the...roosters.  Like most towns well off the main highway, Chicken tends to have more water tanks and outhouses than indoor plumbing.  Say what you will about outhouses, at least you don't have to worry about your pipes bursting when it drops down to 40 below.

This is some neat information.  Worth a look.

 

 

500 feet down the road is Gold Camp, where we had lunch--ice cream and incredibly expensive (but tasty) sandwiches.  After lunch we had a look around the old gold mining equipment, including a dredge and forge, and the stage where Chickenstock is held.. There were mushrooms everywhere, tall white domes the height of my hand--not unlike giant chicken eggs, scattered across the ground by enormous careless hens. It's every mother's dream to hear "Hey Mom, Dad fed us random mushrooms!" Thankfully, everyone lived.  Rick included. Apparently, they taste good.

*Edit* Rick wants it known that he was a G--D-- Airborne Ranger and wasn't just rolling the dice with his kids.  These particular mushrooms are Shaggy Manes, and are perfectly edible as long as they aren't turning black and slimy.*

 

 

Chickenstock stage.

The third part of Chicken was unfortunately closed, but that didn't stop me from trekking over as close as my rule-abiding butt would go to get a picture of the third chicken and the infamous "I got laid in Chicken, Alaska" sign (also available on t-shirts in your choice of color for $19.99).

The drive home was without consequence.  The girls were happy to get McDonald's, Rick was happy to get home, and I was happy to cross one last destination and one last highway off my bucket list.

If you're interested in learning more about Chicken--or owning it--here's the town's website.  It's actually pretty damn funny.  Copy and paste, there is no hyperlink.

http://chickenalaska.com/

Bonus.  This is Mukluk Land, a "theme park" in Tok.  Look it up.  It's...well, Alaskan.  And don't judge.  You have to make your own fun when you live in the bush.

Oh, and it doesn't say much about it on the site, but one of its big attractions is a cabin full of dolls.  You're welcome.

https://muklukland.com/

https://www.onlyinyourstate.com/alaska/creepy-amusement-park-ak/