The Mothership

I’m currently concocting a story about squatters in Fairbanks. People who live year round rent free on public land, much to government Bush’s dismay. But this is Alaska, and as I mentioned before, things take time here, so many of these cabins have seen three or more generations of people move through their doors before they actually get the boot. One such cabin is called the Mothership (they all have names passed down from squatter to squatter), and virtually everybody I've talked to has at one time mentioned this cabin. So I figured it was an important “historic” place to see and include in the story. A squatter I know took me into the wild, past the rail road tracks to visit the Mothership. She didn’t know who lived there, and she asked me not to make pictures right away, not until we'd talked to them. They could be jittery Alaskans with itchy trigger fingers, you never know. The trail was scattered with remnants of people, trash, bottles, the usual junk you find around cabins of nifty people who save scraps for future use. After a 10 minute hike we finally get to a clearing nestled between birch trees, the perfect spot for a cabin, only it wasn’t there. Only a gaping hole with charred wood remained. Unbeknownst to anyone, someone had burnt down the Mothership.