I've recently been reminded that capitalist consumption isn't the only route to a good time in this town.The dawning of spring was ushered in with a bonfire at Rancho Spenardo last Wednesday, and the highly spritual gathering included particularly poignant burnt offerings by Angela Ramirez and Riley Lynch.
Just a couple of days later, three carloads of us are heading towards a remote area in Anchorage with a little too much gasoline, but just enough palettes. The second bonfire of spring may be less legal than the first - but it'll loads of fun.
Comet Hyakutake is melting 46 million miles from earth, and for the few seconds the clouds part, I feel a little breakup sympathy with the inanimate object that could well have been the instrument of our extinction if its course had differed subtly. The heat of the fire on my body is the heat of the sun on its scarred, icy face. Snowballs start flying, wrestlers submerge each other in snow, and a passing moose wisely decides to keep its distance.
This is entertainment at its finest. Other people are at home watching TV or pounding $4 beers at local bars. We are giddy despite wet feet, reveling in a tradition as old as human culture in Alaska.
The laws against such activities are as new as the modern palette. Bonfires are illegal almost everywhere in the Anchorage Bowl. Yet despite potential hazards to public safety and the environment, the allure of staging such events remains strong among many of the Anchorageites I know.
I remember one of the last bonfires of '95, towards the end of fall. We were biking around Westchester Lagoon when we heard a pickup truck obviously doing the wrong things. We were stunned as it careened through the park, almost wrecked in a ditch, and dumped enough palettes to burn for hours. A team of elder juveniles proceeded to unload the truck with military precision and ignite the palettes out of sight while the truck fled. A few pissed off neighbors resulted, but no cops.
- We are giddy despite wet feet, reveling in a tradition as old as human culture in Alaska.
I'm not suggesting such actions are appropriate - merely entertaining and traditional. And because we know that Anchorageites are not going to stop having bonfires in public areas, perhaps we should provide them a particular, safe, location to do so. Sort-of along the lines of the proposed skate park in downtown. Sure, Town Square is too full of pedestrians to handle crazy skating, but a skate park provides the perfect public venue.
Perhaps a stretch of beach by Westchester Lagoon, a stretch by Pt. Woronzof - maybe even a section of Kincaid, could be devoted to this rich Alaskan event that for many of us is not only a rite of spring, but a way of life during the sunshine months. A few concrete circles would be readily affordable, keep fires safer, contain them to predictable areas, and allow for more effective police patrols of public bonfire events.
In the meantime, if you feel you have to break the law because the pull of a late-night fire is just too much to resist - please practice fire safety, avoid overuse of gasoline and paper, and go easy on standing dead wood. Just 'cause it's dead and combustible doesn't mean the ecosystem meant for you to burn it.
To ensure an appropriately lengthy event, consider building your fire in a discreet place, i.e: not visible to the road or local residents, off the trails, and away from fire hazards (except yourself, of course).