Alaska News

Discovery Channel's 'Gold Rush' crew makes questionable last impression in Haines

I spent the last week in Haines attending the Museums Alaska & Alaska Historical Society joint annual conference engaging in a variety of discussions on everything from Joshua Slocum's commercial salmon fishing past to Denali hero Walter Harper to the history of Alaska's governor's mansion. On Friday night, after the awards banquet, many of the attendees departed for the P-Bar (Pioneer Bar), where the Windy Valley Boys were performing.

Hailing from Skagway, the Windy Valley Boys play devastating folk music, with a seven-member band that includes a fiddle, banjo, bass and concertina. They filled the bar with a soaring sound delivered at a rapid-fire pace and had everyone standing at the bar clapping, stomping and roaring with approval. It was, initially, a quintessential Alaska night. Then a very strangely dressed group of revelers walked in.

At first, everyone assumed the late arrivals were playing a joke, although just who the joke was on and why it was happening there remained largely a mystery. Of the 10 or so men and women who pushed their way to the bar, one wore a plaid suit and carried a suitcase with a circa-1980s telephone in it (including the cord) and another sported a fully-inflated life vest. Several were dressed in bushy vests and coats of multicolored fake fur while at least two had stuffed animal toys strapped to their backs. The women wore long formal gowns and broad-brimmed hats fitting for the Kentucky Derby.

All of them were loud as they dominated the floor in front of the band and jumped and shouted and made an undeniable spectacle. Fortunately the Windy Valley Boys were unperturbed and continued playing; the rest of us could only stand back and stare.

At first they each insisted they were Alaskans, but the outfits, the heavy accents and utter the lack of knowledge about Alaska geography -- the assertion that Fairbanks is close to Anchorage is always an obvious tourist giveaway -- quickly made clear they were lying. Eventually, as the empty glasses filled the bar, a few of them gave up that they were the production crew for the Discovery Channel's "Gold Rush" television show.

It is widely understood that "Gold Rush" is partially filmed on the Porcupine River, north of Haines. The three-and-a-half month filming season ended this week and the crew was apparently enjoying their version of a wrap party. They explained they had spent some time thrifting for outlandish get-ups and went out on the town planning to pass themselves off as crazy Alaskans. The ruse didn't last long in a room full of Xtratufs and pullover sweaters though, and both conference attendees and locals realized pretty quickly that something odd was going on.

After heading back to the hotel, where the "Gold Rush" crew was the main topic of conversation among anyone who had been within a mile of the P-Bar or the Klondike -- where the crew had started their evening -- I had time to reflect on the evening and just what it says about how Alaskans live and how they are all-too-often portrayed on the small screen.

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While riding the ferry back to Juneau Saturday evening, we had the crew with us again, absent their outfits. They were still toting their little suitcase and passing around their old-fashioned telephone, however. When I asked them about their opinion of Haines, several made quite complimentary remarks, particularly regarding the scenery. Unfortunately, one very crass comment about the state in general was loudly shouted, although hopefully that was the beer talking and not an honest opinion -- if so, way to stay classy, "Gold Rush" crew, and please don't come back. After a few visits from ship security, the atmosphere in the bar was noticeably calmer, which was much appreciated.

Hopefully everyone at the P-bar in Haines appreciated the Windy Valley Boys' Friday night despite the obnoxious behavior on the dance floor. Certainly several Alaska breweries appreciated all the business the crew gave their products both in town and on the ferry. It was an astounding amount of business.

But what was clear to me after watching and talking to the group, who hailed from places as diverse as Dubai, Australia, London and various spots in the Lower 48, is that if a reality TV producer truly wants to find "weird in the wilderness" then they should stop auditioning Alaskans and just turn the cameras on themselves. Forget about gold miners and pilots -- in Haines we saw an outrageous show and just for once, we got to laugh at them instead.

To be honest, it felt pretty sweet to turn the lenses around and spare Alaska from being the punchline. And for all that the crew thought they were making some kind of statement about eccentric life on the Last Frontier, I doubt they understood then or now that their behavior ended up showing just how much they don't know us. The irony that these are the people presenting "Alaskan" to the world is not lost on me, nor the wish that someday all these programs would be more about us and far, far less about them.

See the Windy Valley Boys perform in this short clip.

Contact Colleen Mondor at colleen(at)alaskadispatch.com

The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, e-mail commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.

Colleen Mondor

Colleen Mondor is the author of "The Map of My Dead Pilots: The Dangerous Game of Flying in Alaska." Find her at chasingray.com or on Twitter @chasingray.

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