Great people equal a great fair
It’s fair season. Still visiting in Alaska as of this writing where there is no smoky air, but plenty of rain.
I joined some of our family living here on a soggy Sunday trip to the Kenai Peninsula Fair in the tiny community of Ninilchik — known for its halibut and salmon charter fishing. My husband Terry and I had grands attending elementary school in this town at one time. The classroom windows look straight across Cook Inlet to volcanic giants Mt Iliamna and Mt Redoubt. The students had a bit of a study distraction the year Redoubt erupted.
I had an extra stake in the fair. The oldest grand, Zak the Z-guy, was groundskeeper. He’d just finished helping put on the Salmonfest music festival held in the same location. Ninilchik swells from 900 to 9,000 in a kind of Woodstock (it used to be Salmonstock) repeat —with millennials instead of boomers camping out.
It wasn’t hard to find Zak, bushy red beard and all. Let’s just say you’d never get lost wandering the grounds. Not like Minnesota’s State Fair with its paved streets and street signs. I’m sorry but pavement belongs on the Interstate, not with the hogs and sheep.
I was shocked to discover deep fried Wisconsin cheese curds at this humble fair. I’m not a cheese fan myself, but I bought some for the grandgirls to try. That Midwest staple disappeared in a flash — proving some foods do hop the mountains in their quest to go viral. One thing I did try, which you won’t find just anywhere, is reindeer sausage in a bun. Delicious. Terry had to forego reindeer in our Thanksgiving stuffing once we left Alaska.
The Midway at the Kenai fair consisted of two rides. Yes, t-w-o. An empty ferris wheel dejectedly getting dripped on. And those swings that lift up and go around in a circle. It was plenty muddy underfoot. I don’t know if that’s why one rider dangled bare feet — or if the boy just didn’t wear shoes to the fair. Not necessarily an unusual occurrence in Alaska. It’s a land of come as you are.
The exhibit hall displayed a zucchini the size of a baseball bat. Vegetables love the state’s nonstop summer light. Even two months past solstice there’s a lot of get up and go at 10 p.m. Something else you won’t likely run into at our Bonner County Fair — startling to say the least — was a wolf head winter hat that looked real enough to leap off whoever might be wearing it.
The brave little Kenai Fair was altogether a satisfying experience. The three squealy racing pigs, the drenched couple dancing in the grass to the music of the country band, the gospel singers on the outdoor stage believing every word of the old songs.
It doesn’t take a production to make a great fair. It’s the people who show up.