The Talkeetna index.

In years past I’ve done both long-form writing and mock-tweet compilations about the Talkeetna Bachelors Auction and Wilderness Woman Competition. And this year I did Talkeetna in six pics.

Today I realized that wasn’t nearly enough coverage, given how many other photos I still had to share, and how many experiences I hadn’t yet described when I put up the six pics. After all, that post went live the same night we arrived in Talkeetna. Surely there was more to tell.

So I decided to tell it, in the style of the long-running “Harper’s Index” from Harper’s magazine. But I’d be doing it Talkeetna-style.

For the uninitiated: The Harper’s Index is a list of random facts, sometimes connected, sometimes not. Rather than draw from multiple sources, I will of course focus on the bachelors auction and wilderness woman competition.

Some of my index items will be illustrated and some won’t. One of the photos will be not suitable for work. You’ve been warned.

 

Number of fiber-optic whips used: 1

This was wielded by Ed, a science teacher and perennial bachelor who has always had a sense of humor about the event. For example, one year he decided that the bottle of wine he was providing needed some fromage to go along with it – and produced a can of Easy Cheese. One of the emcees described Ed as a great guy for whom “every day is Science Friday.”

Oh, and Ed also plays the moose during the Wilderness Woman Competition:

The guy gets “shot” five times during the event, and each time his death throes are a fine and histrionic thing to see.

Number of Caldecott-winning books illustrated by Alaskans: Also 1

Tlingit and Haida artist Michaela Goade won the 2021 Caldecott Medcal for “We Are Water Protectors.” The book was proudly displayed at the Dancing Leaf Gallery. [As an Amazon affiliate, I may earn a small fee on items purchased through my links.]

 

The Caldecott is a very big deal. If this had happened while I was still at the newspaper, I’d have been interviewing that artist. As it is, I can only applaud her from afar.

Number of people in our party: 2

Some years we’ve had as many as six or seven wild wimmen in attendance. Due to attrition, the pandemic or just bad timing, we were two only. This does make it easier to rent a room at the Latitude 62, though.

My companion was, as always, the fabulous Linda B. Here’s a non-identifying photo of her giving a belly rub to a Talkeetna resident at the Wilderness Woman Competition:

What, you were expecting a human Talkeetnan? Come to think of it, I expect that some of those bachelors also wouldn’t have turned down one of Linda’s belly rubs.

Number of dog teams we saw during the weekend: 3

We saw one dog team along the spur road on the way into Talkeetna, and two on our way home. I don’t know if the mushers were training for a race or just heading into town to do some shopping. Always fun to see the dogs, though.

Number of salmon waiting to be caught by contestants: Also 3

Every year there’s a late run of Styrofoam salmon that goes right through town.

A contestant must snag a fish, then put it in her backpack to move on to the next round of the competition.

Number of finalists in the Wilderness Woman Competition: 5

I didn’t take notes during the event, but I’m pretty sure that at least a dozen women showed up for the preliminary heat. (“Heat” being a relative term in Talkeetna in the winter.) That’s where the women have to put on bunny boots and race to the end of the street, then carry back 40 pounds of water in each hand.

Just as important as their speed is their ability to keep too much water from sloshing out, because they’re judged on both. The five women who move the fastest and spill the least water make it into the finals.

Here’s a photo of a contestant who duct-taped the tops of her bunny boots, the better to keep water from splashing down into her socks:

Number of animal pelt types displayed at the general store: 6

Maybe more than that, but from where I stood I could see bear, lynx, fox, wolf, wolverine and seal. One thing I wouldn’t mind having is an Alaska Native-made fur parka with a wolverine ruff, because wolverine doesn’t freeze up from the moisture of your exhalations.

When DF was a kid, someone in his family had a wolverine-ruff parka. He and his sibling thought it was funny to take one of the family pets into that room, and then watch them freak out at the fur’s scent: “They didn’t know what exactly they were smelling, but they knew that they needed to get out of that room immediately.”

I thought that was a bit cruel, until I remembered that my siblings and I sometimes gave Binaca to our dog to watch him cough and sputter – and then come right back to us when we called. Kids are just mean, sometimes.

And speaking of animal pelts, here’s a photo of the guy who did the Foxtail Dance, along with the woman who made the winning bid:

At every Bachelors Auction someone will be cajoled into wearing a fox-fur bikini. In the past, when the auction took place at the tightly packed Log Cabin VFW, it became apparent that sometimes a fox-tail dancer had taken a shot of Dutch courage before strutting their stuff.

They’re supposed to dance along the catwalk and use the fox pelt’s tail to tickle any woman who will allow it. This event makes me glad that Linda B. and I like to sit upstairs.

I’m not sure all of the foxtail dudes realize just how objectified they are about to become. They learn pretty quickly that women can be as disgusting as men when they see a scantily clad member of the opposite sex. Some of the guys seem to enjoy the attention, but that could also be the hooch working.

One year I covered the weekend event for the newspaper where I worked, and the foxtail dancer was a somewhat portly fellow whom the fur bikini did not quite fit. A photo that ran with the story showed more of the guy’s posterior than some readers wanted to see, judging from the calls to the front desk. I just shrugged it off: “Have these people never had a plumber come to their houses?”

Number of dollars it takes to buy a loaf of bread in Talkeetna: 6.5

Alaska gouge + small general store = some pretty high prices. The closest supermarket is about 13 miles away, but not every Talkeetna beater is good for a 26-mile round trip.

The town now has a shuttle service that goes up the spur road, past the medical clinic and the hardware store and terminating at the supermarket. My guess is that whoever was in charge of getting the stuff for the sandwich-making competition waited until the last minute and then thought, “Heck with it – I’ll support the local economy.”

Number of dollars it takes to buy a package of cold cuts in Talkeetna: 9

The phrase “cold cuts” takes on a different meaning here.

Non-index photo: A bachelor having lunch

The meat and bread referenced above are for one of the most fun-to-watch parts of the competition: “Bring a sandwich and beer to a bachelor.” In between opening the beer and delivering it, the contestants generally tend to give the beverage a shake and then throw it – and the sandwich – at the bachelor. That’s why the guy is swathed in plastic. (And sipping what’s left of the beer, you’ll notice.)

Loose dogs tend to linger near the easy chair, knowing that some free food will be available. The dog in this picture had trouble peeling the ham off the street, though, as it had frozen and stuck in place.

Number of cans of blueberry mojitos we could buy per day: 10

Talkeetna’s biggest employer is the Denali Brewing Company, which turns out lots of craft beers, gin, vodka and canned craft cocktails – including blueberry mojitos, which apparently are quite delicious. So delicious, in fact, that the liquor stores in Anchorage can’t keep them in stock. My niece asked if I would bring back as many as five mojito four-packs – some for her, and some for friends.

On the way home, Linda B. and I got 10 cans each, satisfying both the law and the needs of my niece and her friends. Of course I believe her. She does have a lot of friends.

Number of degrees below zero at the Wilderness Woman Competition: 12

We didn’t see any thermometers, but that’s the temperature reported by an employee of the Dancing Leaf Gallery (which carries, among many other things, the jewelry that Linda B. makes). And we believed it, based on how quickly our nose-hairs froze.

While waiting for the competition’s preliminary results, I saw a woman moving around to stay warm in the very cold (see below) weather. She was wearing a light jacket, probably because she could run faster in it. As she ran in place to keep her blood circulating, the woman also sipped a cold beer. Alaskans gonna Alaska.

Number of balloons in the “shoot a ptarmigan” portion of the Wilderness Woman Competition: 22

In this competition, the Alaska state bird is as faux as the fish. Balloons have been widely spaced on the board in years past, but this time they were all clumped together. Contestants use a BB gun.

The balloons aren’t put out until the last minute, lest the moisture in them freeze so hard that BBs bounce off.

Number of hours between COVID-19 test and auction admission: 72 maximum

And yep, they did check and were prepared to turn away those who couldn’t prove either vaccination or a recent negative test. I’ve been vaccinated and so has Linda B.; we were required to show our cards plus photo ID.

Number of auction tickets sold: 100

Normally 200 are available, but the Talkeetna Bachelors Society decided that social distancing-ish was still a good idea. Face masks weren’t absolutely required – few of the bachelors wore them – but each woman who bought an auction ticket did get a commemorative mask.

Mine is still in the wrapper because I packed a mask for the trip. Okay, I packed half a dozen, just in case. I take the pandemic very seriously, for painful personal reasons.

Number of dollars that the biggest bachelor package was worth: At least $1,645

There were a lot of “package” jokes at the competition. These referred to gifts the bachelors offered, to entice bigger bids.

One bachelor had seven items in the package, only five of which were given an actual cash value. But they were some pretty skookum deals, all right, including: 

• Two-night stay at the Sheldon Mountain House on Denali (yes, on the mountain)
• Flight-seeing tour for two with a glacier landing
• Gift card to Denali Brewing Company (home of the blueberry mojito!)

All those present agreed that this bachelor did, indeed, have an impressive package.

Number of dollars spent on the night’s highest auction bid: 6,000

At this point I was overwhelmed with fatigue and the ever-increasing noise, so I can’t say who garnered this bid. It might have been the big-package guy.

Number of dollars raised at the auction: $41,000

This was significant for practical reasons (the money goes to local charities) and also for its symbolism: This was the 41^st annual auction.

Linda B. and I were not a part of that in that we did not buy bachelors. But we bought $50 tickets to the event, and dropped a fair amount into that local economy while we were in town. That’s our contribution – and, I hope, it will be yours someday. Feel free to accept our standing invitation to join us any first weekend in December for this always-interesting bash. And since it’s my birthday weekend, I might even bake a cake.