American Trails magazine no 13

STANCE STETSON

STEVENSON

TELLASON

BRIGHT

YETI

Howdy pardner!

I’m no cowboy. I did go to the agricultural program in high school, but I’m no cowboy. I have, however, met several of these quiet, hard-working men and women. Some of them at rodeos, others at ranches we’ve visited. These are the real cowboys — or ranch hands as they may call themselves. I always view them with at least a smidge of envy. They seem to be living the free life, and constantly surrounded by animals. Surely they sleep like babies after a long day in the saddle.

Then there are the people who look like cowboys but have no grit under their fingernails, no callouses on their hands. They aren’t even bowlegged. As Blake Brazeal (see issue #11, The American) puts it, “You don’t become a cowboy just because you bought the whole outfit at the Boot Barn.”

That describes me.

This summer, I’m wearing the cowboy hat. Currently on the lookout for a damn fine Western shirt. I’m thinking a black one, with embroidery. Add to that a pair of Wrangler MW11s and then the boots. I haven’t decided which kind yet, but I’m leaning toward alligator print leather boots. Am I taking this outfit out on the town? Of course not, I don’t have that kind of confidence. But I’ll definitely be bringing it to festivals and car shows. ***

Before all that, we’re sending another issue to the presses. Things are going well, but we’d love for more people to discover us — and you can help us with that. Tell your friends about your favorite magazine, and we’ll tip our hats to you. And don’t forget to follow us on Instagram, via the QR code below.

This issue brings you a cool mix, as usual. As luck would have it, a fair amount of cowboys. Anouk Krantz showcases some of the fantastic images of her latest book, Ranchland; Majsan and Robin reach the end of their long road trip through the Great American West, where they meet some real tough guys; and Nathalie has dug into the history of Wrangler. All women — good, we need to get better at it. For this issue, I, too, have met some creative women in Portland, Oregon. So things are looking up. We’ve also checked in on the LGBTQ epicenter of Asbury Park. You know, where Bruce, Southside Johnny, and Little Steven grew up.

It’s a lot, as usual. I hope you like it as much as we do.

Giddy up! Jonas

Larsson, Editor-in-Chief

ALLIGATOR HAPPINESS IN LOUISIANA. NICER THAN THE RUMOR. PAGE 130.

New Jersey

Connecticut

THERE'S A SHOP WITH SOME GROOVE IN NEW ENGLAND. AT UPTON BASS, THEY MAKE SOME OF THE FINEST UPRIGHT BASSES IN THE US. PAGE 114.

WE ARE BACK IN NEW JERSEY. IN THIS ISSUE, SIMON URWIN LOOKS AT THE NEIGHBORHOOD WHERE BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN GREW UP. ASBURY PARK WAS THE NAME. PAGE 18.

Alabama

WE LEFT A SMOKER BEHIND FROM THE LAST ISSUE. HERE WE TALK ABOUT BBQ THAT MAKES THE CILIA STAND AT ATTENTION. PAGE 68.

North Carolina

WE DELVE INTO THE HISTORY OF DENIM. THIS TIME WE TAKE A CLOSER LOOK AT WRANGLER. THE COMPANY STARTED IN GREENSBORO, NC. PAGE 76.

Content

3. A FEW WORDS FROM OUR EDITOR IN CHIEF. Issue 13, the Cowboy Issue. Editor-inChief Larsson rides high.

4. THE MAP

In this issue, we’ve crossed the continent. Like the rolling stones we are.

11. THE CREW

Meet most of the editorial staff plus the world’s best cowboy photographer.

12. DON’T DRIVE BY BY’S | SEATTLE | WASHINGTON

By’s burger joint in Seattle’s industrial neighborhood has been around since 1954. For good reason.

15. WE LOVE DICK'S | SEATTLE | WASHINGTON

Ännu ett burgerhak i Seattle från 1954. Seattles finest.

16. SEATTLE ANTIQUES | WASHINGTON

Thrifting belt buckles at this massive flea market in Seattle.

18. GREETINGS FROM ASBURY PARK, NJ

Yes indeed, that’s the title of Springsteen’s debut album. We sent Simon Urwin to New Jersey to look into the hottest small town along the Eastern Seaboard.

34. TO DIVE FOR | DARWIN’S THEORY | ANCHORAGE

A true dive bar — and we love it!

36. A ROAD TRIP IN COWBOYLAND, PART 2

MONTANA | WYOMING | IDAHO

Majsan and Robin continue their epic road trip around the western states. Majsan tries to win an automatic rifle.

54. THE AMERICAN | OMAR | ALASKA

Omar is an ordinary American. Hear his story, as told in a neighborhood bar in Anchorage, Alaska.

56. FEMALE CREATIVITY | OREGON

Women truly get it done. In Portland, Oregon, we visit entrepreneurs whose smallest common denominator is that they are super creative women.

68. KING OF THE SMOKERS | DECATUR | ALABAMA

Get smoked out at Big Bob Gibson’s barbecue paradise — you’ll never want a regular hot dog again.

76. WRANGLER | AMERICAN ICONS

Our new contributor Nathalie does a deep dive into the history of Wranglers. A tale in denim blue.

86. STUFFED AND SMOKED | AUSTIN | TEXAS

Backyard barbecue with Aaron Franklin, the country’s biggest BBQ star.

96. PORTFOLIO | LIFE OF A COWBOY

These are the most gorgeous cowboy photographs you’ll see. Anouk Masson Krantz can capture a feeling like no one else can.

114. BACK TO BASS| MYSTIC | CONNECTICUT

Come along to a double bass factory in New England. Upton Bass is the swingingest gig in Connecticut.

122. MAMMOTH LAKES | CALIFORNIA

Fredrik Lundgren hikes the gorgeous areas around Mammoth Lakes and gets hunted by a bear. Don’t you want to get in on this?

130. KISS OF DEATH | LOUISIANA

Alligator joys in the New Orleans swamps.

American Trails

MAGAZINE

EDITORIAL

JONAS LARSSON EDITOR IN CHIEF AND PUBLISHER LARSSON@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

SIMON URWIN UK EDITOR URWIN@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

FREDRIK LUNDGREN DIGITAL CONTENT DIRECTOR LUNDGREN@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

BO SANDLUND ART DIRECTOR INFO@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

NATHALIE WOLF DESIGNER WOLF@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

CAJSA LANDIN TRANSLATOR INFO@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

JOHAN LETH PROJECT MANAGER | EDITOR LETH@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

American Trails Magazine is a quarterly publication and an online community, which focuses on people, places, and passions. We distribute the Swedish edition in the Nordic countries, and the international edition in the UK and the USA.

We do not accept responsibility for the loss of unsolicited materials. Permission is granted to quote and praise us as long as the source is identified. For permission to use any of our photos or stories, please contact the editors.

ISSN 2002-7842

OFFICE

PAPER HEART PUBLISHING

TUNSTAVÄGEN 14, S-793 40 INSJÖN, SWEDEN

Rubrik

FREDRIK LUNDGREN MUSIC EDITOR LUNDGREN@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

ANDERS BERGERSEN STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER INFO@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

LEIF EIMAN BEER EDITOR EIMAN@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

ADVERTISING AND SPONSORSHIPS

JONAS LARSSON LARSSON@AMTRAILSMAG.COM

TEL: +46 70 76 01 720

COLOPHON

PAPER

COVER: MUNKEN POLAR 300 G

INLAY: MUNKEN POLAR 120 G

FONTS

TITLES: ACIER BAT, AW CONQUEROR DIDOT AND HEROE PRO BODY TEXT: ADOBE CASLON PRO 10/12

QUOTES: GOTHAM BOLD

CAPTIONS: MUSEO SLAB 700

PRINT

STIBO TRYCK

PHOTO: FREDRIK LUNNDGREN

TO OWN A PAIR OF GROUNDSTONE SHOES

Means that you, like us, think that good shoes are unique, created with an open mind and with the heart in the right place. Where small series, solid craftsmanship and top quality is just common sense.

a tribe called Contributors

Say hello to much of the American Trails editorial team—a bunch of happy magazine lovers and American nerds. We also have the pleasure of introducing Anouk Krantz, the court photographer of cowboy culture.

NATHALIE WOLF, INSJÖN, SWEDEN

Nathalie is a graphic designer and contributing writer at American Trails magazine. Her interests span design and photography, as well as discovering new places. In our next issue, you can follow her and her husband on a road trip through California. In this issue, she’s done a deep dive into the iconic denim brand Wrangler and its history on page 76.

@american_trails_magazine

FREDRIK LUNDGREN, STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

Fredrik is a history teacher, lover of Americana, and jeans enthusiast. Growing up in the deep forests of Västernorrland contributed to his fascination for flora and fauna, and it is where his interest in writing blossomed. Currently, he works as an educator and editor at the Museum of Wrecks and likes to go on road trips whenever the opportunity arises.

@american_trails_magazine

ANOUK MASSON KRANTZ, NEW YORK CITY, USA

French-American photographer Anouk Masson Krantz is behind some fantastic photo books on Cowboys. It's hard not to be drawn in and fascinated by the blackand-white images. Open landscapes, big skies, animals, and the everyday life of cowboys and ranchers dominate her pictures. On page 96, you can see selected photos from her latest book: Ranchland: Wagonhound.

@anoukmassonkrantz

JONAS LARSSON, INSJÖN, SWEDEN

Jonas has worked in magazines for 30 years. Originally as an art director, but his insatiable curiosity brought writing and photography into the fold. Jonas is American Trails’s Editor-in-Chief and one of its cofounders. If Jonas had been born another type of primate, he would no doubt have been a gibbon. Lot of monkeying around, as it were.

@american_trails_magazine

Dont drive by By’s

GEORGE TOWN | SEATTLE | WASHINGTON

WORDS AND PHOTO BY JONAS LARSSON

Georgetown is the very heart of Seattle’s industrial area. Smaller industries wedge in between behemoths like Boeing and Starbucks in this relatively untouched part of town. Still, a few gems hide among the car washes and Denny’s restaurants, and one of them is By’s Burger. This old-school burger joint opened in 1954 and still gives the chain restaurants a run for their money. The sign is amazing and the building looks tired, but the inside is like stepping into a time machine. Worn down? Sure. Charming? Absolutely. But most important is the food. By’s offers classic hamburgers and milkshakes to die for.

Before Anyone Did Anything SKO UNO Did Everything

Gamla Brogatan 34, Stockhol

The Coolest And Nicest Stores In Stockholm!

Gamla Brogatan 32, Stockholm

We love Dick’s

WALLINGFORD | SEATTLE | WASHINGTON

WORDS AND PHOTO BY JONAS LARSSON

The same year that By’s opened (see page 14) in 1954, Dick Spady and his partners opened their first drive-in restaurant in Wallingford, Seattle. Dick’s was born. Little has changed in the 70 years since — except that they have opened 4 more restaurants in Seattle. Spady says that he and his partners never wanted to create a large franchise but rather stay local, close to family. Smart move. While the fast food giants race to beat each other in innovation, Dick’s continues on like it’s 1954, and it works. Seattleites never abandoned their favorite burger joint. Short waits, good prices, and burgers-fries-shakes is the recipe to success. Easy as that.

DDIR.COM

A vintage vintage store

SEATTLE ANTIQUES MARKET | SEATTLE | WASHINGTON

WORDS AND PHOTO BY JONAS LARSSON

The antiques market has been there for 45 years, but even though I’ve been to Seattle 10-15 times, I have never seen it before. At last I realize why: the bi-level highway that used to run between the market and the waterfront has been torn down.

At Ken Eubank’s Seattle Antiques Market, nostalgia reigns supreme. The chock-full vintage store creates in intense need to have it all. Belt buckles, old Coca-Cola signs, license plates, clothes, a whole section of vinyl records. Everything you can imagine is here, including gorgeous mid-century furniture that definitely will not fit in your checked luggage.

Ken tells me his clients are both Seattle locals and tourists. The locals snag the furniture, while the tourists get the smaller items and vintage clothes. Mark runs the fashion department, and I can immediately tell that he has a good eye. A leather jacket that looks supremely cool - just not on me - remains on its hanger. Instead, I make off with a belt buckle from a Chicago (the band) tour and a couple of older Playboy magazines, the ones with illustrated covers and articles by Norman Mailer and Ray Bradbury. After all, isn’t that how the saying goes? I buy them, only for the articles…

GREETINGS FROM ASBURY PARK, N.J.

Lying on a mile-long stretch of golden sand, Asbury Park is one of the most eclectic and distinctive cities on America’s Eastern Seaboard. A wild mix of hipster cool and faded Victorian glamor, it’s home to modern murals and retro diners, where local churches fly the pride flag and legendary music venues rock out with the world-famous Jersey Shore sound.

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY SIMON URWIN

By night, out-and-proud Kimmie Masi is a cool rock chick who drums with her own band; by day, she’s the owner of a cupcake store on Cookman Avenue called Confections of a Rock Star. And 24/7, she’s pure Asbury Park – the diverse, creative, queer-friendly city on the Jersey Shore, considered a kind of Brooklyn-by-the-Sea.

Masi is the first person I bump into when I arrive in Asbury Park one summer’s day, fresh off the two-hour train ride from Penn Station, NYC, her bakery just a stone’s throw from the railway station. I head inside to get an early morning sugar fix. The walls are painted a

glorious Pepto Bismol pink and covered in music memorabilia, and behind the counter is Masi herself, wearing an apron and a broad smile.

“It’s the queer community that helped rebuild Asbury Park,” she says, as she puts my order together: a box of macarons as colorful as the pride flag. “It’s been on this rollercoaster journey of good times and bad ever since it was founded. The recent upward curve has been powered by music, art, and the gay community in particular.”

She tells me the renaissance began when Asbury Park hit rock bottom after race riots in the 1970s. That’s when gay couples began moving in. Drawn by the city’s multiculturalism and its shabby chic, they set about renovating the grand, old Victorian mansions. Then, in 2002,

Kimmie Masi, the owner of Confections of a Rock Star.

Tillie, (Asbury Park's own mascot) mural on the Wonder Bar.

The Carousel Building. The last remaning part of the the Beaux-Art Casino.

J.T. Bowen used to perform at the Turf Club with Clarence ‘The Big Man’ Clemons.

THEN, IN 2002, MEMBERS OF THE GAY COMMUNITY THREW A BEACH PARTY AND MUSIC FESTIVAL: THE SAND BLAST WEEKEND, HEADLINED BY GRAMMY-AWARD-WINNING CYNDI LAUPER, A NOTABLE GAY RIGHTS ACTIVIST. SUDDENLY, THE OCEANSIDE CITY EMERGED AS A PLACE TO BE FOR THE LGBTQ COMMUNITY.

members of the gay community threw a beach party and music festival: the Sand Blast Weekend, headlined by Grammy-Award-winning Cyndi Lauper, a notable gay rights activist. Suddenly, the oceanside city emerged as a place to be for the LGBTQ community.

“Since then, the queer profile of Asbury Park has just kept growing. Pride gets bigger every year,” she says. “It’s become this fun, caring, liberal, community-driven utopia of sorts. It’s one of the most progressive places in the state for sure, which was kind of the intention of the guy who built it in the first place. It’s just much gayer now.”

FROM METHODIST TO GAY

Asbury Park was founded in 1871 by James A. Bradley, a Bible-thumping broom manufacturer from New York. One summer, Bradley was visiting a Methodist camp in Ocean Grove, N.J., to the south, when he decided to purchase 500 acres of vacant land to the north and turn it into a thriving residential resort town. And so, Asbury Park was born, named in honor of Francis Asbury, the first bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church in America.

From the get-go, Bradley introduced an innovative, resident-focused town plan, including broad, tree-lined streets and a trolley-bus system. He built an oceanside boardwalk too, with pavilions, public changing rooms, and a pier. Coney Island impresario George C. Tilyou joined the party shortly afterwards, opening Asbury’s Palace Amusements in 1880, complete with iconic, funny-face mascot Tillie – a symbol of the town to this day. Tourism boomed and by the early 20th century, Asbury Park had cemented itself as New Jersey’s premier vacation destination, its railroad system shuttling in 600,000 visitors every summer from as far afield as New York and Philadelphia.

The letter “L” of the sign that once read ‘Palace’ and an old photo booth are all that remain of Asbury’s Palace Amusements. Both are now housed within the Silverball Retro Arcade, a museum on the boardwalk which also holds more than 150 vintage pinball machines. There I meet Paul

Robinson, a Philadelphia resident who does a 3-hour round trip once a week just to play them. “I used to have to stand on a milk crate when I was a kid to hit the flippers, but now that I’m 66 years old I can manage without,” he says, laughing. “They still have a huge sentimental value for me. They transport me to another era, to the Asbury Park of old.”

Robinson tells me he plays for six hours at a time. In comparison, he has no interest in modern computer games. “It’s like the difference between streaming and listening to a vinyl record,” he says. “These machines are beautiful works of art, they’re tactile, precious. Plus, there are no pay-outs, so I don’t lose any money like I would do if I played down at the casino.”

BEAUX-ART CASINO AND THE CAROUSEL HOUSE

Asbury Park’s own casino opened in 1929 along with the Convention Hall (both designed by the Beaux-Arts architects behind NYC’s Grand Central Station), as the city grew beyond a mere vacation spot to become a cultural destination in its own right — with fine dining, high-end shopping, art galleries, theatre performances, and music concerts. The Casino was torn down in 2006, but its ornate copper-clad Carousel House is still standing, and is now home to the Wooden Walls Project, a non-profit art initiative. “The Medusa icons on the building exterior must have protected it,” says Jenn Hampton, the project curator, who has overseen the creation of some 60 murals across Asbury Park by local, national and international artists.

“When you look at old photos of the city from the 1940s and 50s, what grabs you is the riot of colors: the aquas and pinks, purples, and reds,” she says. “I wanted to bring that palette back - using murals as a way of enriching the urban landscape, of bringing beauty back where there was once blight. Now, in the whole of the USA, maybe only Santa Monica, California, has this amount of public art on its waterfront.”

The Carousel House serves as both Hampton’s office and an artist’s residency, home to present incumbent Beau

Asbury Park boardwalk is a popular spot to hang out.

Artwork at Porta Asbury Park. To the right: Macarons at Confections of a Rock Star.

Wooden Walls beachfront murals.

Stanton, who, when I visit, is mid-way through building his rendition of the S.S. Morro Castle. “It’s the ship that really secured Asbury Park’s reputation as an exciting tourist destination almost a hundred years ago,” says Hampton.

On September 9th, 1934, the S.S. Morro Castle caught fire while sailing back from Cuba to New York, after what was suspected to have been one of its regular ‘booze cruises’, which offered a chance for revelers to drink freely outside US borders during Prohibition. The blazing ship ran aground just yards from the Convention Hall and quickly became a major attraction. With gossip swirling that the disaster was down to the first mate killing the captain with poison, tens of thousands of visitors descended on Asbury Park to gawp, with nearby Ocean and Kingsley Avenues converted into one-way streets just so passing cars could take a closer look.

FRANK’S DELI, A SURVIVOR

But the grounding of the S.S. Morro Castle soon began to seem more like an omen. By the late 1940s, Asbury Park’s boom was starting to turn to bust. In the decades that followed, new freeways, amusement parks, beach resorts, and shopping malls pulled tourists in other directions. One stalwart of the community that did manage to survive the fast-ebbing tide of visitors was Frank’s Deli, which opened in 1960 and remains one of the city’s oldest businesses.

I arrive at Frank’s in time for lunch and unwittingly take a counter seat next to local eccentric Barbara-Jean, who wears sequined boots and a generous amount of make-up and claims to have dated both Frank Sinatra and Elvis. She also claims to now have the FBI on her tail. I manage to escape her far-fetched shaggy-dog stories by striking up a conversation with Joey Maggio, the deli’s current owner.

I ask him for the house special, and he brings a pork roll sandwich, a Jersey Shore classic consisting of a poppy seed bun, fried egg, American cheese, and thick-cut bacon. “Not many places still do it except us,” he says. “We’re super old-fashioned. We didn’t even have a computer until last year.”

Maggio, of Sicilian-Neapolitan descent, tells me he started working in his parents’ deli-diner (housed in a converted bicycle shop) when he was just 14 years old. Now 68, he’s seen many of the old regulars pass away and watched while the fortunes of his hometown have fluctuated wildly. “Lots of places closed down, but we’ve managed to stay open. I think it’s because we’ve been here for so long. Grandparents always came here, so their kids and grandkids come too. Eating out at Frank’s Deli became like a local ritual.”

Joey Maggio, owner of legendary Frank's Deli.

Barbara-Jean at Frank’s Deli.

LOTS OF PLACES CLOSED DOWN, BUT WE’VE MANAGED TO STAY OPEN. I THINK IT’S BECAUSE WE’VE BEEN HERE FOR SO LONG. GRANDPARENTS ALWAYS CAME HERE, SO THEIR KIDS AND GRANDKIDS COME TOO.

EATING OUT AT FRANK’S DELI BECAME LIKE A LOCAL RITUAL.

Maggio tells me that he thinks that Asbury Park’s cycle of development and decay has had one positive, lasting impact: it’s given the city its spirit. “Asbury Park is a survivor,” he says. “It’s got tenacity. The grime and grit have given it a certain kind of character and magic you just don’t get elsewhere on the coast, where it’s just millionaires’ mansions or soulless beach resorts.”

When the grime and grit hit hardest in the late 60s, the tourism industry all but disappeared, sucking the lifeblood from the city. Middle-class residents left in search of greener suburbs and faster commutes into the Tri-State area’s major metropolises. As it dwindled, racially-motivated anger rose; its black population had already experienced poverty, discrimination and segregation (African-Americans were originally only allowed on the beach before 8 a.m.), and now things were going from bad

to worse. By the weekend of July 4th, 1970, that anger erupted into protest, before seven days of full-scale rioting, fire-bombing, and looting engulfed Asbury Park. Those that could leave the city, did. Many of the attractions shut down, houses and businesses were locked up, and the boardwalk lay empty, slowly dissolving into the sand.

Despite the turmoil and apparently terminal decline, it was the city’s music scene that helped keep a faint pulse alive. Asbury Park had traditionally been the music capital of the Jersey Shore; it even once had its own version of Memphis’s Beale Street, with more than 20 music venues on Springwood Avenue that at their height were frequented by the likes of Billie Holiday, Count Basie and Ella Fitzgerald. (Most were burned down in the riots.)

Bruce Springsteen was one local artist who drew inspiration from the urban decay and the dive bars he played

The Stone Pony, where Bruce Springsteen used to perform at the beginning of his career.

The guys from the TV series Sopranos as street art on an Asbury wall.

in. He went on to release his debut album, Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J., to great acclaim in 1973. A year later, The Stone Pony opened its doors in an abandoned disco, and Springsteen, along with Bon Jovi and Southside Johnny (the ‘Godfather of the Jersey Shore Sound’), helped put the music venue on the map.

There to capture Springsteen at some of his most defining moments was New Jersey-born photographer Danny Clinch, who began his career interning for Annie Leibovitz. “Fans of ‘The Boss’ come from all over the world just to see Danny’s images,” says Tina Kerekes, who manages his Asbury Park gallery, Transparent Clinch. “He has this incredible, spontaneous, natural-light, fly-on-the-wall style.”

On the walls alongside portraits of Springsteen are some of Clinch’s (and the music industry’s) most iconic photographs, including a shirtless, tattooed Tupac and Metallica bringing down the house at San Quentin Prison. Kerekes tells me that the space is more than a photography gallery though: it’s a music venue (where Clinch occasionally jams), hosts community events, and supports local charities including the AP-AMP (Asbury Park African-American

Music Project), an organisation dedicated to the preservation and regeneration of Springwood Avenue.

Kerekes tells me about an AP-AMP benefit gig later in the day which aims to raise finances for the refurbishment of the legendary Turf Club, the last surviving music venue on Springwood Avenue, which dates back to 1956. Star of the show is singer J.T. Bowen, who used to perform at the Turf Club with Clarence ‘The Big Man’ Clemons. (Springsteen would often come to watch them both here, and Clemons went on to play sax for Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band for almost forty years.)

After the sound check, I grab a quick word with Bowen, who tells me he is happy to be back on such hallowed ground. “It might look past its prime right now, but that’s the thing about this city — it’s never quite done living just yet,” he says. “No matter what Asbury Park is up against, there’s so much community energy, so much love for music, it’s always capable of being the phoenix that rises from the flames.”

Paul Robinson from Philadelphia at Silverball Retro Arcade.

Theoretical bar

TO DIVE FOR | DARWINS THEORY | ANCHORAGE | ALASKA

WORDS AND PHOTO BY JONAS LARSSON

I was at a different bar, you know, the kind where you can get food, too. Started chatting with a couple of properly blitzed locals - nice people. I casually asked if they had a favorite dive bar in town. “We just came from it. Darwin’s Theory, best in town!”

Done and done. A moment later, I manage to squeeze in at Darwin’s thoroughly packed bar. Anne Woolsey and Paris run around, furiously serving up drinks left and right. Despite the massive workload, their mood and speed are both admirable. These are not people to be messed with. Anne asks me something that I interpret as “How many drinks have you had?” I hold up two fingers. Wrong answer. Two ridiculously strong gin and tonics appear. I thank her politely and double check how to get back to my hotel.

Darwin’s Theory is a place you will immediately like if you’re into dive bars. Everyone talks to everyone, and the popcorn is free. My theory is that Anchorage in a strange way revolves around Darwin’s Theory. In various conversations in the days after, I keep hearing about the unpretentious and lovely little bar. Interesting.

ROAD TRIP IN THE GREAT AMERICAN WEST, PART 2

Mother Nature is a sometimes a tough mother. Something that Robin and Majsan will be well aware of when continue their trek through the Great American West during the storm of storms. If you missed part 1, you'll find it American Trails no 12.

WORDS BY MAJSAN BOSTRÖM | PHOTOS BY ROBIN LAANANEN

aiting to see what roads will remain open during the unprecedented flooding that’s closing down Montana, we pull into Miles City to have a drink at the legendary Bison Bar. They serve dad beers and Blue Moon. I order the latter. The group of regulars at the other end of the bar chuckle, and with one quick glance, I can immediately tell that they have pegged me for some ultra liberal, possibly from California. I wear a real straw cowboy hat, but I am also totally hipster styled with low cut boyfriend jeans, a Moncler down vest and Thorogood boots. My eyes catch a poster, taped to the mirror that announces a raffle for some semi-automatic assault rifles and without a flinch I say: “And I’ll take two raffle tickets.”

I see how the regulars exchange surprised looks and I smile. One-zero to me. They smile back. I know that they know that I am posing. And it’s hilarious.

WThe bartender doesn’t lead on, just asks in what state I live and tells me if I win, the rifle has to be shipped via a dealer. Just the scopes on the different prizes, an Aero Precision M4, a Howa HCRA 6.5 Creedmore and a Red Dawn Tactical, are worth thousands of dollars. If I win, I’ll sell the scope, plug the rifle and hang it on a wall, as a conversation piece.

The bartender says the owner will be back in the morning, so we retreat for a much needed night's sleep. The regulars and I exchange nods as we leave.

COWBOY COFFEE AT BISON BAR

A few minutes after 8 the following morning, I come in for what they call ‘cowboy coffee’, which is truly just coffee, served in those old-timey see-through glass cups on a stem, that I haven’t seen since like 1995. Mikki-Jo cracks a smile. “I heard about you.”

Mikki-Jo’s family has owned the Bison Bar for more than 60 years, and they’ve offered cowboy coffee for deer hunters and ranchers for as long as she can remember. We get into anecdotes, Gene Autry once stopped by for

a drink, and they’ve had some pretty epic fights. The worst one, between bull- and bronco-riders, wasn’t all that many years ago, maybe ten. Mikki-Jo knew it was about to go down by the look in her partner’s eyes.

“I’ve never seen Tony nervous,” she says, “but that time, it was different. He looked over and said: ’Call the cops, we’re about to have the biggest bar brawl we’ve ever seen.’”

Tony was right. The fight spilled out to the street and when the cops broke up one cluster, it would flare up somewhere else. When I want to know what the fight was about and Mikki-Jo and the two patrons sipping coffee three stools down, look at me as if I’m slow and respond in unison: “Because they are cowboys.”

And then the topic of conversation turns over to the weather.

MOTHER NATURE SAYS HI

It’s June 2022 and Mother Nature shows us her will power. Unprecedented rainfall causes major flooding in Montana, Wyoming and Idaho. We have been rerouted, and rerouted again. We’ll miss the Southeastern Montana Burger Trail. We’ll miss the legendary Pollard Hotel in Red Lodge, and we’ll miss the world’s most famous geysers, the Old Faithful.

Since Yellowstone is a complete washout, we detour to Makoshika State Park, which is a sprawling mass of classic badland with rugged canyons, natural bridges and formations like cap rocks and pinnacles, right smack on the Lewis & Clark National Historic Trail. Makoshika is also part of Hell Creek Formation, which is one of the richest dinosaur fossil grounds in the world. It’s hard to believe but these badlands were sub-tropical climate and vegetation 65 million years ago, a place of incredible scientific importance, especially to paleontologists. It’s not uncommon that regular hikers find triceratops and – tyrannosaurus rex – fossils.

As a shark's tooth collector, I immediately start paying attention to the ground. What if I find a T-rex tooth? That would be the loot of all loots.

DISC GOLFERS PARADISE

We don’t find a single fossil, but meet people on the hiking trail that have. Makoshika draws a mix of mountain bikers, campers, geologists, archaeologists, paleontologists, hikers…and disc golfers. Turns out that the second best course in Montana is located right in front of our eyes. Champion Lloyd Smith and his son Austin, take us around the course. Red, blue, green, yellow and purple

Austin Smith playing disc golf in Makoshika State Park.

The mighty Tetons are an impressive sight.

discs swoosh between the sand colored rocks. I try. It’s not that hard, but I also don’t get offered a pro-contract on the spot.

“We are building another course up there.”

Lloyd points toward the badlands green and brownlayered mountainside, where a large bird is stalking prey.

“It’s a great sport, you get outdoors and the gear for this sport, you can bring everywhere,” Lloyd says and taps on his school-sized backpack.

GRATITUDE TO MOTHER EARTH

We get word that the roads are clear down to Cody, Wyoming, and from there we can make a big eastward loop around Yellowstone and cross into Idaho and the last on our five-state Great American West tour. But first, we’ve gotten a wish filled—to harvest sage. The way it’s supposed to be done, clipped not uprooted, with gratitude towards mother earth. The abundance of sage and its importance in Native American culture has been on our minds ever since Gus Yellow Hair at the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota smudged us. Sage is everywhere, flowing alongside the mountains, like waves in different shades of silver and green.

So, with the help of the Southeast Montana Tourism people, who are slammed trying to handle the flooding crisis, I get a name.

Cedar Rose Bulltail.

Cedar and common law husband Mort Dwayne Big Medicine wait for us at their house in Apsalooke Nation, Crow Country.

As we follow Cedar’s little car for miles and miles down a dirt road, we see wild horses on the hillside where Native American children once kicked balls stuffed with antelope hair and slid down the snow on sleds made out of buffalo ribs. Nearly ten miles later, and coincidentally just a few miles away from Little Big Horn, they finally stop and we head out on the prairie.

When Cedar sees wild rose, eucalyptus or spearmint, she bursts out in greetings like: “Oh hello little ones!”

like other people react at the sight of kittens, puppies or sweet children. She climbs the hillside with a backpack full of plant gathering accouterments, including a foldsaw and a shovel. The shovel looks pretty new and also serves as a walking stick. Or probably to use in case we run into a snake, I think and stomp the ground a little harder, even though Cedar doesn’t say anything about that. All she warns us about is ticks, but the tall grass on this prairie plateau looks like prime real estate for rattlesnakes to me.

“You have to thank the earth while you harvest,” she says as she clips branches off an especially thick sage bush.

While Cedar botanizes, I keep Monteya, Cedar’s 5-year-old granddaughter who’s along for the excursion. We blow dandelions and take pictures of each other. She wants to wear my cowboy hat.

Cedar sits down in the tall grass and begins tying smudge sticks grass (and I stomp the ground even harder.) She explains how the Native Americans were forbidden to practice their own traditions for nearly 100 years.

“We almost lost it,” she says. “I am still learning, or re-learning, as I prefer to call it.”

Cedar used to go to lectures, the same one over and over with Alma Snell. “She was our last traditional herbalist.” Another important person to Cedar and her interest in re-claiming her relationship with mother earth was Winona Plenty-Hoops. She died in 2012 at 94 years old and was the last member of the Crow Tribe to fashion her own buckskin, from tanning to finished product.

Cedar makes balms, soaps, moisturizers, body scrubs and butters, seasonal teas and pomades. (Which I think she sells for way too cheap.)

“Right now I’m into yarrow,” Cedar says and explains that it’s “a blood stopper, really good for bruising, aches and pain.”

There’s something really powerful being out on the prairie with Cedar, Mort and Montaya and we buy some of Cedar’s skin products before we bid our farewells.

SHE EXPLAINS HOW THE NATIVE AMERICANS WERE FORBIDDEN TO PRACTICE THEIR OWN TRADITIONS FOR NEARLY 100 YEARS.

“WE ALMOST LOST IT,” SHE SAYS. “I AM STILL LEARNING, OR RE-LEARNING, AS I PREFER TO CALL IT.”

Mort Dwayne Big Medicine of the Apsáalooke Nation.

Cedar Rose Bulltail picking sage and other herbs to use in traditional medicin.

Montaya, Cedar’s 5-year-old granddaughter.

One of the big caves in Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve.

THERE’S ALMOST EVERY TYPE OF BASALT LAVA AND MANY OTHER VOLCANIC FEATURES, LIKE LAVA TUBES, WHICH ARE HUGE CAVES. WE CLIMB DOWN INTO THE INDIAN TUNNEL, WHICH IS MAJESTIC, THIRTY FEET TALL, FIFTY FEET WIDE AND 800 FEET LONG, AND WITH ONLY A HOLE BIG ENOUGH FOR US TO CRAWL OUT OF AT THE END.

As Cedar buckles Monteya into her car seat, Mort Dwayne Big Medicine gets out of their car and knocks on our hood. I step out again. And Mort shakes my hand and thanks us for sharing “this” he makes a sweeping gesture over the landscape.

“Nobody has ever done this before.”

He doesn’t have to explain that nobody means white people.

As they disappear in the rearview mirror, I cry.

We are deeply touched by the level of poverty and despair that still exist on the Native American reservations. And I struggle with whether or not I should mention that Cedar and Mort do not have running water in their house. They are next in line on their reservation, and it will be within a year, but still – it’s 2022.

We drive down to Wyoming, with our lip balms and sage drying on the dashboard. I’m wondering if I’ll ever dare to burn mine.

THE TETONS

Approaching the Tetons from the east is like driving into an Ansel Adams photo. There are different stories behind the name of the jagged 40-mile mountain range in the Rocky Mountains, which has peaks upward of 14,000 feet. The French named it the three nipples. Go figure. There are lots of titty-related geographical names in the parts of the world the Europeans set out to explore and then colonized. We chose the Native American option, that they were named for the Teton Sioux, also known as the Lakota.

Unfortunately, the hikes that will award some real views in the Tetons are at least 7 miles, so we have to settle for a little leg stretcher. But we do see a triple rainbow, and stop in the middle of the road, screaming. I run out in just my socks, in order to snap a photo before it’s too late. I only manage to capture one and it’s the flattest rainbow I’ve ever seen, hugging the horizon.

Mother nature is delivering on all accounts and there are no more alerts of hail the size of baseballs, but the

flooding keeps taking out roads and wreaking havoc north of us. So we keep going south, skirting Yellowstone and roll into Jackson, where we find Soluna Café, a newly opened vegan restaurant. The owner who’s cooking, serving and cleaning, finds time to give Robin, who’s near tears at the reality of warm food that’s not Brussels sprouts, bags full of to-go boxes to sample. She gets traditional vegan tacos, a falafel plate, an RnB bowl with avocado, and carrot ginger soup. I get into the soup too. It’s amazing.

IDAHO

Crossing into Idaho, we hit some icy roads and the vibe changes from western frontier to outdoorsy. Ford and Chevy doilies with horse- and livestock-trailers are replaced with Mercedes Benz RVs with 10 thousand dollar mountain bikes strapped onto them. The southeastern corner of Idaho also resembles my native country, Sweden a great deal both in vegetation and landscape. The elderberry bushes and the melting snow piles in shadowy places next to creeks and rivers remind me of home.

It is June 21 and summer solstice by the time we arrive at the Craters of the Moon, and a complete opposite kind of landscape we have experienced so far. For ten days we’ve mostly been busy looking upward and outward at view after breathtaking view. Now we are hiking across barren land with burnt red and black cracks scarring the earth. It’s flat as a pancake and scorching hot. It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, and the 343,000-acre preserve is a geologist’s dream with almost every type of basaltic lava and many other volcanic features like lava tubes, which are huge caves. We climb down into the Indian Tunnel, which is majestic, thirty feet tall, fifty feet wide and 800 feet long, and with only a hole big enough for us to crawl out of at the end.

Dirty, dusty and incredibly sore after our many days on the road, we decide to splurge and check into the Miracle Hot Spring in Buhl. They have huge swimming pool and offer massage too. And glamping-style cool little

HIS FIRST CRIME WAS STEALING A PAIR OF JEANS AND SOME PIE AT A COUNTRY STORE, BUT HE QUICKLY MOVED UP TO TRAIN ROBBERIES AND OTHER BANDIT OPERATIONS. SOON AFTER HIS RELEASE FROM THE WYOMING

TERRITORIAL PRISON, CASSIDY FORMED THE “WILD BUNCH” AND RECRUITED HARRY ALONZO LONGABAUGH, ALSO KNOWN AS “THE SUNDANCE KID”.

geo-domes for overnight stays, but we are there for the private hot springs, available by the hour. Enveloped by the warm, warm water I keep falling asleep. It feels like winning the lottery.

BASE JUMPING

We don’t have time to go to Boise or Sundance on this trip so we settle for Twin Falls, where we’ve heard that the Perrine Memorial Bridge, a transportation hub for crossing the Snake River, is a popular destination for BASE jumpers.

We find men and women who are prepping colorful ‘chutes on the grassy area surrounding the visitors’ center right on the edge of the Snake River. A young woman says she’ll jump in about 30 minutes and points toward some older guys and says: “But you should talk to that guy, he’s pretty famous.”

She’s right.

It’s Miles Daisher, a skydiving stuntman, BASE jump coordinator, coach and aerial artist. He’s 53 and started jumping in the early 1990s when he was a ski bum in Lake Tahoe. Now he lives in Twin Falls with his wife and kids, and “Lucky for me,” he says, “we have Perrine Bridge.”

The four-lane truss arch span is 486-foot tall and is supposedly the only man-made structure in America where BASE jumping is legal. Miles says it’s also the most user-friendly, where you can jump year around and without a permit.

BASE stands for buildings, antenna (radio masts), spans (bridges), and earth (cliffs). It’s the extreme sport of all extreme sports, one of the most dangerous recreational activities in the world. A quick search yields some alarming numbers. The fatality rate is 43 times higher than parachuting from a plane. More than 400 people have died since 1981, several of them were Miles’ close friends. Perhaps the most legendary of them all, Frank Gambalie, died after being chased by park rangers in Yosemite at 28 years old. Shane McConkey was 39, when he died in

the Dolomites Mountains, Italy. Frank got Miles into the sport and Shane was his best friend.

“Frank showed me a video, where he flew in a wingsuit and I was like ‘Dude, you’re flying.’ He said: ‘I know.’ And I was like ‘No, dude you’re flying.’

“The hardest part with this sport is to walk away from it,” Miles says.

His favorite is flying in a wingsuit, but today they do ‘chutes. They all head out on the rust-brown bridge and climb up on the railing. Super scared of heights, I hold my breath, and Robin gets the camera ready.

Miles and his friends count “3-2-1 See ya!” and then the big and colorful parachutes descend toward the green water. Moments later all three perform a perfect landing on what looks like an old airfield next to the river.

Suddenly we feel as deflated as the parachutes Miles and his friends are gathering almost 500 feet below us. The trip, 3,161 miles and 14 days through five states is almost over. And after near outdoors and nature overload, we excitedly take an unexpected exit off Interstate 80 and pull up to the Wyoming Territorial Prison, which is a museum nowadays. It held outlaws and desperados in the late 1800s. Like all prisons the inmates carried stone, made soap, candles, and cigars, and in the blistering cold winters, sometimes -20 Fahrenheit below, cut ice blocks for the Union Pacific Railroad. The most famous inmate to have been locked up at WTP was Butch Cassidy.

OUTLAWS

AND DESPERADOS

We walk through guard quarters, infirmary, and cell blocks. The museum is extremely well curated, complete with 3-D wall-sized maps of the different routes and bandit hideouts of the Great American West. And pretty much Butch Cassidy’s complete story. His real name was Robert Leroy Parker and he took his last name from the guy who taught him to rustle cattle. His first crime was stealing a pair of jeans and some pie at a country store, but he quickly moved up to train robberies and other bandit

Anyone up for a slightly used car?

Base jumping from Perrine Memorial Bridge, outside Twin Falls, Idaho.

The Wrangler has been selling ranch wear in Cheyenne, Wyoming for 80 years.

operations. Soon after his release from the Wyoming Territorial Prison, Cassidy formed the “Wild Bunch” and recruited Harry Alonzo Longabaugh, also known as “the Sundance Kid”.

CHEYENNE

Not much later we arrive in Cheyenne, having to look for parking is a strange feeling after two weeks on the road and no stops in cities really. Downtown Cheyenne is a bit of a picky shoppers dream with vintage record stores and exclusive boutiques. Like so many other towns of the “Wild West” Cheyenne saw gunfights, brothels and vigilantes... but also gave rise to the suffragist movement and women's guarantee to vote. Wyoming made it legal for women to vote almost 50 years sooner than any other states (and Europe). They had the first female governor, Nellie Tayloe Ross, who served from 1925 to 1927.

On a quick shopping spree, we pop in to Alexis Drake’s, where the leather goods are crafted in a backroom behind the storefront. Handmade wallets and bags, bathroom kits and pillows. Six women sit by sewing machines around a large table (the only man, who puts the hardware on the bags and wallets, is out this particular day), working and chit chatting. It feels like an unusual and welcome sight in 2022, where so much is imported from who-knows-where. After we learn about dyes, special zippers and hardware that go on different clutches, we bring up the feminist backbone of Wyoming. They know their history.

“It was also because there were more women than men here,” production lead Jen Cuevas says a tad cynically.

Cloud Kleine, who’s making a slim fold women's wallet nods: “They also needed votes.”

The romanticized idea of Wyoming being a feminist state is really nothing but pragmatic.

We continue browsing vintage record boutiques and then the huge western outlet, The Wrangler, because after this trip we too need high-waisted Wranglers. Unfortunately, all the options in the 13,000 square-foot store with rooms upon rooms of boots, hats, and jeans blinds us and we leave empty handed.

As we set the GPS on Denver International Airport and the mountains of Wyoming fade behind us, I realize how much I desperately needed to come out and immerse myself in the Great American West.

It’s been 14 days of immense beauty, intimate meetings, intense emotions, and an insane schedule. Thank you South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana, Wyoming and Idaho.

The Gaslight is pretty quiet this Sunday evening. The mechanical bull stands alone in its corner until a boisterous group tumbles into the bar and makes a beeline for it. Pretty soon they are all flying off it laughing. I watch the debacle from a safe distance, at the bar next to Omar from Virginia.

How long have you lived in Alaska?

I moved here in September, so only a few months. I’m originally from Virginia, but I’ve spent the last six years in Texas. I’ve gone back to school in my old age! I work for an electrical company while also studying to become an electrical engineer.

Must be a pretty big change from Texas?

Yes and no. The people are pretty much the same, a diverse crowd. Nice people. The climate is the major difference. In Texas, I could work however long I wanted to each day. Here, the light and the cold limit you. I like to work a lot and need the money. I have three daughters, Omar laughs.

The most important thing to me is that I can support my family. That’s gotten a little trickier since I went back to school, but it’s worth it in the long run. The company I work for has a nice pension plan. If I stay in Alaska for five years, I’m good. If I stay for ten, I can retire at 58. I have a year and a half left of my studies, and then I go back to working full time.

Had you been to Alaska before?

Yeah, I worked here a couple of years ago. We were here installing generators for a few months. When I decided to go back to school, I thought a change could be nice so I decided to do it here. I fell in love with Alaska the last time I was here.

Are you outdoorsy?

Yeah, I grew up in the mountains of Virginia. My father was a railway engineer. During the summers he took six weeks off from work and we spent the whole time fishing. It could be in rivers, streams, or we went to the ocean to fish there. I really love fishing. But I haven’t had time to do any here yet, since I arrived in September. July and August are the best months for salmon fishing. So this summer that’s what I’ll do.

I’m also going to go moose hunting with some friends from work. You need a special license that’s passed down through families. I can’t hunt, but I’m going to come along. It’s nice to get out in nature. I travel a lot and have already been to Juneau, King Salmon, Dead Horse, probably more places in Alaska than most people who live here, I think.

I travel a lot for work, as well. I’ve been to every state but Hawaii for work, and I’ve been to Honduras, Puerto Rico, and Mexico on vacation.

I ask Omar if he’s going to try out the mechanical bull. “Are you kidding?” he laughs. “I’d rather meet a bear in the woods than sit on that. It runs on electricity!”

THE AMERICAN “I grew up in the mountains of Virginia. My father was a railway engineer. During the summers he took six weeks off from work, and we spent the whole time fishing.”

WORDS AND PHOTO BY JONAS LARSSON

PORTLAND | OREGON

Innovative entrepreneurs

It feels out of place to discuss craftsmanship and gender. But despite it being 2023, we still haven’t reached equality. In this issue, we have focused on four successful, women-run Portland businesses. Partly because we can, and partly because we want to.

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY JONAS LARSSON

Liquor tastings are not the same as wine tastings. This lesson arrives to me four or five glasses into the delectable, blessed spirits at Freeland Spirits. As I repeat myself, praising Jill Kuehler for her gin, she just laughs and thanks me for the kind words - again.

Quality controlling the real world can be a tough job, but someone has to do it. We have arrived in Portland to check out the female artisans in town, and it’s probably a good thing that Freeland Spirits was our last stop of the day. Those ladies know what they’re doing, believe me.

Portland, Oregon, is one of the most creative towns I have ever visited. It has creativity and creations coming out of every pore, constantly breaking barriers. The

entrepreneurial spirit seems a potent elixir of life engrained in its inhabitants from birth. Others come here tempted by the scent of freedom in both idea and action. The fact that sustainability, equality, and cooperation are top priority is the cherry on top.

I once asked Erik, who runs the denim brand Ginew with his wife, what competition is like in Portland.

“We don’t have competition, we have community,” was his answer. Fair enough.

As faithful readers of the magazine know, we’ve been to Portland before. This is the city of many faces, and we never get tired of coming back. So here we are again, to eat really well as well as to meet crafty enthusiasts whose smallest common denominator is that they are female entrepreneurs. Come along for the ride to meet urban farmers, spirit distillers, jewelers, and textile designers.

The Sideyard Farm and Kitchen

URBAN FARMING AND CARING

The first time I met Stacey, she was cooking up a feast on a field in Willamette Valley, south of the city. Several long tables were set, colored lights brightening the Oregon night and a band playing Americana on a trailer. It was a magical evening, organized by Friends of Family Farmers, a non-profit that helps smaller farmers of the valley with marketing, sales, and even legal questions. All in the name of avoiding getting bought by industrial farming and to keep the work organic, small-scale.

So Stacey brought the food — and boy, did she. Locally sourced from her own Sideyard Farm and other farms represented at the dinner. Local vintners brought fantastic Oregon wine.

Now we are in her own paradise, an urban farm in the Cully neighborhood of northeast Portland. We are greeted by a happy girl, running toward us at full speed, with short fur and bright eyes. Bonnie - who is a terrier - is thrilled at the company.

“Farming is fascinating. It begins with a seed and ends with a seed. The circle is complete, and in between you get to harvest things you can eat,” says Stacey.

Originally from California, Stacey grew up with her mother’s Greek cooking and respect for ingredients. Her mother taught her to grow food, harvest from nature’s pantry, and preserve what she grew: knowledge passed down through generations of Greek homemakers. Her passion for it is palpable.

“We have so many different events. I particularly value our grief potlucks. People who have lost someone come here and we have dinner together and talk about grief, how we can handle it and learn to live with it.”

Other events include movie nights, brunches and dinners, beekeeping and cooking classes, and in June they have their own queer festival. In other words, times are busy at Sideyard Farm — all while they sell their produce to local restaurants. Want to visit? Check out what’s happening at: THESIDEYARDPDX.COM

Bonnie is in charge of tennis balls and other toys at the farm. She is doing an excellent job.

Stacey at Sideyard Farms – her own paradise.

Meri and Carey, the duo behind Thread & Whisk, make contemporary wear to use in the kitchen.

Thread & Whisk TRADITION WITH A COMTEMPORARY SOUL

As a Swede, I feel instantly at home at Meri and Carey’s, the duo behind Thread & Whisk. Their aprons, oven mitts, kitchen towels, and bags all have a Scandinavian feel about them. There’s a warm austerity that makes my breakfast-stained sweatshirt suddenly feel completely shabby.

“We strive to be as sustainable as possible, so that both the planet and the people on it can keep living here. That’s important to us,” says Meri.

Visiting their design studio is a thrill: boxes of buttons, hooks and eyelets share the space with thread spools and cutting mats. This is true handiwork, even though they admit that they cannot do it all alone.

“It would take much too long, so we work with local seamstresses who are amazing,” says Carey.

Perusing their website, Meri’s background as a chef in New Orleans and beyond becomes clear. Recipes like

Friendsgiving turkey and Color Me Impressed summer salad pop up. The Thread & Whisk products belong in the kitchen, products meant to make life both easier and more beautiful. The high quality ensures that you will enjoy them for a long time.

I ask them how they would describe themselves and their products, and the answer is immediate.

“We work in a traditional way with a contemporary soul. Our motto is: slow down and savor everyday pleasures.”

Yes, that’s it. With their eye for detail and material, they rest on the shoulders of generations of seamstresses. Combine that with their modern design, and the result is beauty and function in one.

I buy a complicated apron that takes me a minute to understand how to put on, but once I do, it turns out to be ingenious. THREADANDWHISK.COM

Betsy & Iya JEWELRY FOR PEOPLE WHO LAUGH LOUDLY IN BARS

Betsy has a smile that could cheer up the grumpiest curmudgeon. Sure, her natural charm shines through, but she’s also been to clown school. Now that’s interesting, I think, as curiosity gets the best of me. Technically, we are here to talk to a successful, female entrepreneur and jewelry designer. But when she tells me she’s been to clown school and played in a band in Aarhus, I have to know all about it.

“Everything you do in life contributes to who you become. I worked as a clown, but it paid nothing. One day, I was going through my mom’s old jewelry, and I was so inspired. I sat in a café writing down things in a notepad, and one of the things I wrote was ‘jewelry designer’. Now I have 17 employees and a company that designs and sells jewelry,” she says with a laugh as I do my best to follow along.

Successful entrepreneurs often come with a big personality, and Betsy is no exception. Her creativity spills over; she laughs through the whole interview, all while dropping nuggets of wisdom.

“We make jewelry for people who laugh loudly in bars, for people who drink too much coffee, for people who live.”

I like Betsy and her crew. Conformity is out the window, and we laugh raucously. This zest for life translates into the design. A wide ring that initially looks like an art deco pattern turns out to be the iconic St John’s Bridge in Portland. A lot of the designs make me think of ancient Egypt, with the addition of a hearty laugh.

Community is everything in Portland, so it goes without saying that the store carries pieces from other jewelry designers as well. You can even get a guided tour of the studio. With a cup of coffee, of course.

You can never have too much coffee.

Betsy makes jewelry for people that laugh loudly in bars and drink too much coffee.

The Devil is in the details. Tiny bits are put together into beautiful jewelry.

Freeland spirits

ARTISANAL SPIRIT OF PORTLAND

It’s impossible to miss the bright blue storefront of Freeland Spirits. There’s all kinds of puttering and bubbling going on inside, and Molly Troupe, chief distiller, oversees it all.

“Sometimes people come in asking Molly if they can meet the distiller. They assume that women can’t do what we do. But we only have women working here and our suppliers are women,” says Jill Kuehler with a wry smile.

That kind of question doesn’t feel right in 2023. Women can do what is done here — these women do it — which is to say, make damn good liquor. In making gin, they use a dual distillation method. First the regular, heated distillation. Then they cold distill the gin and add in 16 different herbs, berries, and other flavor elements, some of which are kept secret. By using a cold vacuum macerator, the boiling point is markedly reduced, and they avoid heat killing the flavors.

So we’re at the bar, tasting different spirits, first on their own and then in cocktails (I love my job), when Jill tells the story behind the distillery’s name.

“It’s named after my Meemaw Freeland in Texas where I’m from. We say Meemaw, not grandma, there. Meemaw didn’t touch the strong stuff at all, but she did teach me that women can achieve anything if they work hard.

Sometimes I wonder what she’d say if she saw me now.”

So how does women-made liquor taste? A stupid question, obviously; what matters is what’s in your brain, not what other body parts you may or may not have. There’s no doubt this is good stuff, artisanal products by true artisans. Molly has a master’s degree in Distillation from Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh, Scotland, and it shows. The gin is beautifully refreshing. As a true liquor romantic, I believe myself to sense an essence of fir within it, a piece of Oregon’s forest in its soul. The bourbon is made of 70% corn, and is so soft and smooth that you want to hug it. Their Geneva, inspired by genever, packs a punch full of hazelnut. The last spirit to be tested is a nice dry gin that I cannot entirely vouch for. The reason is that my taste buds are on vacation and have readily been enjoying everything that’s been poured.

Freeland Spirits stays true to the creative, artisanal spirit of Portland. It’s particularly interesting that they proudly showcase their female-run venture without beating customers over the head with it. Something else was beating me over the head when I woke up the next day, but I think that was for a different reason entirely.

Don’t miss Freeland Spirits the next time you’re in Portland, and raise a glass to Meemaw when you’re there

FREELANDSPIRITS.COM

The bourbon at Freeland Spirits is so smooth that you want to hug it.

At Freeland Spirits, it's women only on all posts.

DECATUR

King of the Smokers

Chris Lilly is barbecuing royalty, the elite of cooked meats. He has so many titles, statuettes, and gold medals to his name that, understandably, he’s lost count of the number of times he’s been crowned a champion. Meet Big Bob Gibson’s own royalty.

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY SIMON URWIN

Ashiny trophy is all well and good, but so is a clean plate and a happy customer,” Chris Lilly says, modestly. “Besides, I stand on the shoulders of giants. This place, Big Bob’s, has had an unbeatable reputation for almost a hundred years. That’s generations’ worth of cooking expertise that has been passed on down to me.”

Lilly is the multi-award-winning pitmaster at Big Bob Gibson’s, one of the United States’ most highly regarded barbecue joints, which stands on a strip-mall stretch of Highway 31 outside Decatur in northern Alabama. The eponymous Big Bob was Lilly’s wife’s great-grandfather, who opened the business in 1925 — first serving freshly cooked barbecue from a hand-dug pit in his backyard, before moving between storefront locations all over town, each one bigger than the last, as his smoked, barbecued meats grew in popularity.

THE SANCTUARY

“This restaurant is one of the most recent to open, around thirty years ago, which is when I started,” says Lilly, as he takes me through the back kitchens, where his team is busy pulling pork, chopping slaw and whipping up fresh lemon meringue pies. We enter a place he calls his ‘sanctuary’: the pit room, where, in three old-fashioned brick coffin pits, more than 50 split chickens are slowly being wood-smoked and browned for the lunchtime rush. “I like to barbecue the traditional way,” says Lilly. “First, we build a hickory-wood fire. Then, we use the chimney dampers on either end to control the heat and smoke, bleeding them slowly across the birds.”

Lilly’s finishing touch – a creation of Big Bob’s — is to dip the barbecued chicken in a creamy white sauce made from mayonnaise, vinegar, lemon juice and black pepper. “Big Bob revolutionized the world of barbecue with his recipe,” he explains. “Beforehand, pretty much all barbecue

Big Bob Gibson’s, one of the United States’ most highly regarded barbecue joints, which stands on a strip-mall stretch of Highway 31 outside Decatur in northern Alabama.

Lilly’s finishing touch is to dip

a

the barbecued chicken in

creamy white sauce made from mayonnaise, vinegar, lemon juice and black pepper.

sauces were red and tomato or chili-based. But his white sauce was something else. I’ve since seen it in restaurants in California, Miami and New York, even as far away as Ireland and Australia. It’s gone global – and no wonder: the fat in the mayonnaise coats the chicken and keeps it beautifully succulent, and you get a hit from the pepper, while the tang from the vinegar and lemon juice compliments the fat and smoke to round out the barbecue flavors to perfection.”

AIMING FOR EXCELLENCE

We head back to the restaurant, where the tables and banquettes are slowly filling with an eclectic crowd of hungry construction workers, Southern belles, and suited-and-cowboy-booted businessmen. “It’s a down-toearth, wide open space, and that’s important,” says Lilly. “It encourages people to walk around and chat with each other. And that fits with barbecue, which is unpretentious, inviting, cozy.” Lilly is quick to point out that in spite

of the simplicity of the surroundings and the menu, he sees Big Bob Gibson’s as just as fine an experience as socalled fine dining. “After all, I use only the best ingredients alongside age-old techniques, and the aim is for excellence in everything I do. It’s exactly the same principle.”

Such is Lilly’s reputation that chefs from all over the country travel to Decatur to learn from him. “Barbecuing is rarely taught, but it’s a skill that’s just as important as flambéing or making pastry,” he says. “And for that skill, we must give due credit to the African American slaves and migrant workers who were the true pioneers. They were the ones who figured out a way of cooking for their families and entire communities when they were unable to afford the best meat. Out of necessity and ingenuity, through slow cooking at low temperatures and with smoke, they turned what were thought to be the worst cuts – the ribs, the belly, the parts of the animal that nobody else wanted – and turned them into the very best.”

“FIRST,

WE BUILD A HICKORY-WOOD FIRE. THEN, WE USE THE CHIMNEY DAMPERS EITHER END TO CONTROL THE HEAT AND SMOKE, BLEEDING THEM SLOWLY ACROSS THE BIRDS.”

The chicken is a popular dish at Big Bob's.

Chris Lilly has won many prizes for his cooking.

AMERICAN ICONS | WRANGLER

A workhorse gone hip

Sometimes, the journey from workwear and dad jeans to fashion icon is surprisingly short. Wrangler has gone through several different stages and changed names a few times, without ever falling off the horse.

WORDS BY NATHALIE WOLF | PHOTOS BY WRANGLER

The year is 1897. Brothers C.C. and Homer Hudson leave their home at Spring Hill Farm in Williamson County, Tennessee, to try to make it in the textile capital of Greensboro, North Carolina. They soon find work sewing buttons onto overalls at a local clothing manufacturer. When the factory shuts its doors in 1904, the brothers decide to join forces with a few of the other workers to start their own brand. Hudson Overalls is born, and the fuse of what will one day become Wrangler is lit. They soon realize that railroad workers need durable clothing and develop tough workwear in a small loft above the Coe Brothers Grocery store on South Elm Street. Their clothes become popular, and business is booming. In 1919, they build their own factory and change their name

to Blue Bell Corporations. In 1936, they join with Globe Superior Corporation to become the largest workwear manufacturer of the time.

FROM WORKWEAR TO FASHION ICON

At this time, there was no youth culture, and only laborers walked around in jeans or overalls. But Blue Bell was setting its sights on an overlooked group of potential customers: the cowboys. It’s unclear if they already saw the potential value of their brand, but they begin to market themselves to this population, even using them in their advertisements.

In 1946, Blue Bell starts to develop jeans for cowboys, and they announce a competition for the factory’s workers to find a new name for the jeans. The winner is: Wrangler — for the working cowboy.

In 1947, Wrangler officially becomes a denim brand, with the sole ambition to create the world’s best five-pocket

jeans for cowboys and consumers. They hire “tailor to the stars”, Rodeo Ben. Rodeo Ben — whose real name was Bernard Lichtenstein — was a Polish tailor from the town of Łódź. He worked closely with real cowboys to develop a pair of jeans suitable for the rodeo. This resulted in the now-classic Wrangler 11MW model; 11 means 11 oz for fabric thickness and MW indicating Men’s Wear. The jeans had details suited for the rodeo, like flat rivets that wouldn’t scratch the saddle and seven belt loops instead of five to ensure that the jeans stayed in place.

I call Emilia Hallström at Wrangler Scandinavia. She tells me that Wrangler’s main clientele remains older in both the U.S. and Europe but that the younger generations are moving in. The jean collections adapt to customers in the different markets. New fits are being designed for younger, Gen Z customers, and new channels are being used to reach them.

“Last year, we turned 75, and we celebrated this by partnering with Lollapalooza in Berlin. We had a huge Wrangler area and invited important influencers and Wrangler ambassadors from all over Europe,” says Emilia.

Wrangler’s European and American sites also show how they adapt to different markets. The American menu for “Cowboy” is replaced in Europe by an “Outdoor” option.

DENIM DOCTOR

At this point, I have to know more. I find Viktor Fredbäck, a real denim head, jeans expert and collector, with about 400 pairs to his name. Over the phone, he tells me about his addiction.

“I’ve been passionate about jeans since college. My roommate at the time worked with jeans, and his brother was a designer at Lee. Our apartment was full of magazines about denim and jeans,” Viktor tells me.

The factory when it still was named Blue Bell.

Wrangler was very popular with celebrities back in the day. Here's Steve McQueen in a lovely denim western shirt.

Next page: Goldie Hawn dressed in a wrangler shirt on the cover of Rolling Stone, March 1981.

Freddie Mercury, the vocalist in the rock band Queen, in a pair of Wrangler.

Previous page: Rodeo champion Jim Shoulders was a Wrangler brand ambassador for many years.

Mick Jagger buttons up during a concert.

He quickly realized that the magazines were far more enticing than his coursework, and soon, he had joined the blue side.

“I started small, picking up items on eBay, but my collection grew quickly. In the first five years it was mainly the big brands: Lee, Wrangler, and Levi’s. Today I own all of their models and have set my sights on finding older, unknown denim brands.”

The best hunting grounds for this turns out to be old mines in the U.S. Viktor digs out jeans that have been preserved thanks to the climate of the mines.

“It’s dangerous. The mines haven’t been open in many years, and the risk of cave-ins is constant,” he says, “but since this is my passion, I think it’s worth the risk.”

“I don’t just collect the jeans. It’s also about their history and background. You could stay I collect jean stories,” Viktor continues.

His denim desires have been muted lately. He published his book True fit: a collected history of denim and has even been featured in a movie, mining for old jeans models in America, and it all took its toll. The pandemic, however, brought a period of rest from books, movies,

and traveling around to lecture about jeans, and now his passion is coming back.

He has also chosen not to work professionally with denim for this exact reason. While his love for jeans has sometimes straddled the gray zone between work and play, he has always tried to keep it more as a hobby to prevent himself from growing tired of it.

When I ask him about his relationship to Wrangler, Viktor reveals that while his interest in the iconic brand used to be bigger, he is very pleased to own a pair of Wrangler’s first model 11MW from 1947.

“They used the same back-pocket stitch as Levi’s then. It was very common until Levi’s patented the pattern.That’s when they decided to design the stitch as a ‘W’ on the back pockets. Wrangler is on my top ten list of denim brands; they’ve been very important throughout the history of jeans.”

For his own outfits, Viktor mostly wears reproductions of the old models he’s found in the mines. He tells me that in collaboration with a factory in Japan, TBC Jeans & Co., he develops jeans that look more like older models, straighter and airier. The fabric was thinner then and less durable, so the miners often wore two pairs of jeans over

Denim enthusiast Viktor Fredbäck has more than 400 pair of jeans.

Viktor's favorite sport is to hunt for old denim in abounded mines.

each other to protect them from damage and the humid environment. His own brand, Viktors Voice, is based on a pair of jeans from a small brand called Olympic Brand.

“I have a pair of rodeo clown pants by Wrangler with the Wrangler name embroidered all over the pants. I asked the seller if they knew anything about the jeans, and as luck would have it, they had belonged to a relative, Frank Curry. I was curious, so I googled him. It turns out that Frank was a well-known rodeo clown in the 1960s. He was also one of the models for the Ronald McDonald character. That whole history makes this pair very special to me.”

AMBASSADORS AND COOL CATS

Jim Shoulders, a legend in the rodeo world, was the first Wrangler jeans model. He became the face of the brand and a partner in ad campaigns until his death in 2007. Shoulders was a city kid from Tulsa, Oklahoma, who participated in his first rodeo at age 14. He had a natural talent for the sport and by the time he was 21 years old he had won his first championship. After that, he was nearly invincible and was crowned champion 16 times in the course of his career.

In 1962, Wrangler came to Europe. The first factory opened in Belgium. Throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s, the brand flourished, popular with both Hollywood celebrities and young people. Bell-bottomed Wrangler jeans were seen on the stars and fashion-forward kids everywhere in the 1970s, but they also appeared in Western films and on cool actors like Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

A colorful sports collection was developed in partnership with German artist Peter Max. The company is now more productive than ever, producing more and more models. They also became the first and only denim brand to be officially approved by the Pro Rodeo Cowboy Association of America. That’s a big deal.

After a brief dip in the 1980s, the brand has made a real comeback. In 1996, a pair of Wrangler jeans dressed one out of four men in the U.S. To this day, there’s no question what brand you are wearing on the rodeo circuit, and it’s totally fine to iron creases into your jeans. Thanks to an upswing in Americana popularity, Wranglers are totally right for the moment, and you can still buy a pair of 11MWs today, just as in 1947.

Jim Shoulders in his hay days.

Stuffed and smoked in

TEXAS

They take barbecue seriously in Texas. Several of the joints here have been around for generations, and their rubs and recipes are all very hush-hush. At only 14 years old, Franklin Barbecue has risen to the top as one of America’s best barbecue places, and we had to see it for ourselves. So we went to Texas and met the people behind the BBQ boom.

FRANKLIN BARBECUE | AUSTIN | TEXAS

WORDS BY JONAS LARSSON | PHOTOS BY ANDERS BERGERSEN

Aaron Franklin gets to work early, like bakery early, around 3:30 am. But then, it does take a few hours to smoke a brisket. So while the smoke is curling away, Mr. Franklin sits down with a coffee (or several), reads the newspaper, and checks in on the temperature from time to time. Temperature, patience, and the newspaper are the three main ingredients required to make what Bon Appétit magazine calls the best barbecue in the United States.

And boy is it good. As early as nine am, the most devoted followers start lining up outside the simple brick building. Franklin Barbecue opens at eleven, and people wait in line for up to three hours. Aaron, his wife Stacy, and their staff sell brisket, sausage, pulled pork and ribs until the cows come home. Or rather, until they run out, which they do every single day.

BACKYARD BBQ

But people don’t mind the wait, and there isn’t a single grumpy face among the crowds. Some read books, others stand around chatting. When you get to the counter, you are asked if you want the fatty or the less fatty piece. You choose the fatty piece, for sure, and maybe get a little taste on the side. If you’re lucky, you get the end piece, the one with extra mud on it. Y-U-M.

My own blood sugar levels had not planned on such a long wait — nor factored in the amazing smell of grilled meats for the duration of it. Fortunately, we’ve been invited back to Aaron and Stacy’s for a traditional backyard BBQ, Texas style.

Or rather, not so much to theirs as to their neighbors’ dilapidated backyard. It looks less like a yard and more like a post-Mad Max wasteland, full of scrap metal and old propane tanks. A chicken pecks at the grass, blissfully unaware that the dog is occupied with a piece of brisket nearby. Behind one of the propane tanks, Aaron is busy checking

Something cookin’. And since you asked – it was delicious.

Stacey is welcoming us with deviled eggs, a typical southern dish.

Chilling in the backyard.

BBQ-legend Aaron Franklin beside his homemade smoker.

An authentic backyard barbeque. All ages enjoy it.

Deviled eggs? Yes, please, ma’am!

The one and only beer in Texas, Lone Star.

the smoke temperature, because this is what the tank has been transformed into. Aaron himself cuts and welds them into giant, proper, working smokers. It’s impressive. We sip on Lone Stars - Texas’ lightest beer - which is perfect in the heat. Aaron tells me his dad had a BBQ joint in Bryan, Texas, where he grew up. Aaron’s interest grew, and after some experimentation in the backyard, he started Franklin Barbecue in 2009 with his wife Stacy in a parking lot in Austin. Rumor spread quickly and the queue grew in step. Soon they were selling out every day. Today, Franklin Barbecue lives in a different building in east Austin, but the lines continue to snake around the block. They still sell out every day.

THE FEAST IS ON

“Time to eat!” Aaron yells out. Everyone snaps to attention, wide grins spreading across their faces. He’s had the time to grill steak and smoke ribs. Stacy served deviled eggs with the drinks, and has now grilled okra and Brussels sprouts. More guests have arrived, each with a sort of excited, glossy look in their eyes. I ask Mason, the neighbor, if he gets a VIP entrance straight to the counter at Franklin Barbecue.

“Absolutely not,” he says, arms flailing. “This is Texas. You don’t cut the line at a barbecue joint.”

BARBECUE IS SERIOUS STUFF IN THE LONE STAR STATE. I sink my teeth into the most tender piece of meat I’ve had this side of Florentine steak. Lord in heaven this is delicious. It’s easy to understand how this fairly shy Texan became popular with Austinites, food bloggers, and BBQ enthusiasts alike. He’s even won a James Beard Award, the most prestigious award for chefs in the US.

The evening carries on, with the guests all eating more meat than could possibly be good for a human, myself included. It’s just impossible to stop. By the time we bid the Franklins and their guests farewell, I promise myself never to eat this much again.

But the stomach’s memory is short. When I come home I’m going to go about finding a propane tank and a welding course.

Ocra is a staple at every Southern party.

PORTFOLIO

BY ANOUK MASSON KRANTZ

WEB: ANOUK KRANTZ.COM | INSTAGRAM: ANOUKMASSONKRANTZ

No Service in Cowboy Country

French-American photographer Anouk Masson Krantz started her journey with an insatiable curiosity for the authentic cowboy lifestyle. Her images tell stories of people humbled by nature, animals, and a life beyond the tyranny of social media likes.

BY

WORDS

JONAS LARSSON | PHOTOS BY ANOUK MASSON KRANTZ

Ican’t stop looking at the black-and-white images of cowboys. There’s something incredibly fascinating about the photographs. Maybe it’s the composition, the open sky, the outfits, or perhaps the nakedness of it all, the seemingly randomly taken pictures that exude intimacy, authenticity, and strength. Anouk Masson Krantz has done what few have been able to. She has portrayed a culture so misrepresented in movies, books, and TV shows that it’s nearly impossible to know how a cowboy’s or rancher’s life looks today.

So maybe it’s with good reason that the people within this culture are reluctant to let others in. They are afraid of being misunderstood, used, or ridiculed. For Anouk, getting there took a lot of time, effort, humility, and luck. But once she was in, she met the most wonderful, generous, and helpful people. People who do not spend their days hunched over smartphones but look up to see the world around them.

When at last I reach Anouk, she is in the car.

“Perfect, I’m hitting the road next week, so I’m glad you called now. I’m about to reach the office, but let’s keep talking. What can I do for you?”

Humility will become a theme throughout the interview, and Anouk is a prime example herself. Our hour together is like an awakening. Her past four years with cowboy families, three books, and over 15,000 miles on the road have made their mark. It makes even me look up.

AN OUTSIDER LOOKING IN

“It has been a fantastic journey, arriving as an outsider into their world. Everyone thinks they know about cowboys,

but that world is so misunderstood. I wanted to see it for myself. That’s the best way to do it, better than seeing a movie or reading a book. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last five years. I told my friends that I was going to create a cowboy book. People thought I was crazy, that it would never sell. My German and Dutch background helped me here. I thought, okay, I’ll show them, and now, not five years later, it is the best-selling cowboy book of all time.

What was your entry into this world?

“I held a lecture about my first book about wild horses, and this woman from Texas was in the audience. Someone asked what I wanted to do in the future, and I answered that I would like to make a book about beautiful, untouched landscapes where people also live. I was thinking about cowboys, and after I’d mentioned that, the woman from Texas approached me the next day with a handwritten note with the phone number of a rancher.

“I reached out to him and was invited over. It was hard to win their trust at first, but today we are like family. We talk on the phone a lot. And that opened the door to give me access to this world. He, in turn, gave me a phone number on a piece of paper, and that’s how it went. It’s old school, writing down a number in pencil. Old-school but nice. After that, I kept getting suggestions from the people I met. ‘You have to meet so-and-so in Nevada,’ ‘My cousin in Texas…’ and so on. I have met nothing but lovely people who have wanted to help for the full four years. Help me understand the culture to truly create a window into their world and let others learn about it.”

YOU GENUINELY GET TO KNOW PEOPLE BY SHARING STORIES AND EXPERIENCES, NOT FOCUSING ON GETTING AS MANY LIKES AS POSSIBLE. WE MUST LEARN THAT AGAIN. WE NEED TO LIFT OUR GAZE FROM THE PHONE AND LOOK EACH OTHER IN THE EYES, TALK TO EACH OTHER, AND LISTEN TO EACH OTHER.

How did you gain the trust to get so close to your subjects?

“It wasn’t easy. I don’t know if I would let someone in if someone came knocking on my door, asking to use me for a photo project. They’ve been subjected to so much prejudice, so they are careful about whom they let in. I had to get them to understand what I wanted to do, and you can only do that by spending much time with people and getting to know them. They understood what I wanted to do when they saw what I did and wrote. We were like family, and they allowed me into their lives.

“It’s all thanks to them that I could do this. These aren’t people I found on Facebook or Instagram. I met them through recommendations of other cowboys or ranchers. That’s the best way. It makes it more authentic. Nothing is arranged. No one is a model, they’re just sharing their lives with me.”

How do you choose your subject matter?

“I don’t really choose so much myself. I shoot whatever they are doing that week. Everything in their lives depends on the weather. Something that’s been planned can quickly change because of a change in weather. If they’re sleeping in teepees, you are too. If they’re herding cattle, you do the same. You follow along, help out, and take pictures. That’s what creates a credible result.”

Anouk describes how her life with the cowboys reminds her of her childhood in France.

“After school or work, we all helped make dinner, sat down together to eat, and then everyone helped with the dishes and clearing the meal. It’s the same thing here. Everyone eats together and talks about their day. Many people stare into their phones all day and don’t truly live. I think we’re losing the art of spending time together.

“People are so obsessed with showing their perfect lives on social media. There is no such thing. Everyone’s life has its ups and downs. It’s like the weather. Sometimes when you are out, the sky is clear for miles around you,

and then suddenly, dark clouds roll in, so it starts to rain, and the wind blows. But that passes. That’s how life is, too, not as perfect as people try to present it on social media. Live your life instead of pretending to. You genuinely get to know people by sharing stories and experiences, not focusing on getting as many likes as possible. We must learn that again. We need to lift our gaze from the phone and look each other in the eyes, talk to each other, and listen to each other. That comes naturally to the Cowboys because your phone has no service out there, so the first thing you do is look around you. You talk to people, or you’re on horseback in the most astounding landscape, and all you can do is take it in.

That sounds like a wonderful life.

“It’s not overly romantic,” Anouk says with a laugh. “Sleeping with 30 other people in a small room or a freezing teepee and not being able to shower can be tough. But it also brings us closer together. I always get up early to catch the light and experience the magic hours of dawn when the sun rises over the horizon.”

Did you always know how to ride?

“Not really. I taught myself how to ride just as I did with photography. It’s from the heart. I went to school for photography, but it really comes from within you. It’s not something you can learn in class.

“I try to bring as little equipment as possible. I have one camera body and two lenses, that’s it. After all, the camera is just a tool. I create the images in my head. I don’t like when the images have a lot of clutter. When I worked at Cartier in New York, I learned all about lines, spaces, and design, which helped me a lot in creating my images today. I like the big sky. You can see that in my images. The sky is so wide when you’re out with the cattle. In New York, you barely see the sky. It’s fascinating. The people I’ve met in the last four years of working with these books

VAD? | VAR, STAT/STAD

TEXT OCH FOTO: JONAS LARSSON

Första gången jag träffade Den Matt Pollitz så hade han sin Volvo-verkstad i en gammal plåtlada nere vid fiskebåtarna en bit ner på Market Street i Ballard, Seattle. Nu ligger nybyggda National Nordic Museum där, då lekte Matt med tanken på att hans verkstad kunde bli en interigerad del av museet. Det hade varit otorligt cool, men nu blev det inte så.

Därför blev jag glad när jag såg att han omlokaliserat till en annan del av Ballard. En verkstad för gamla volvobilar ska självklart ligga i den genomnordiska stadsdelen, ingen annanstans. En intressant sak är att bilarna är relativt rostfria här, visserligen är det fuktigt i Pacific North West men det snöar sällan i Seattle och man använder inte vägsalt, så mossa är ett större problem än rost …

Förutom att renovera de gamla trotjänarna så har han börjat elkonvertera dem också. Det bästa av två världar, även om en B18 alltid kommer att vara en B18.

GATUADRESS | HEMSIDEADRESS

I TRY TO BRING AS LITTLE EQUIPMENT AS POSSIBLE. I HAVE ONE CAMERA BODY AND TWO LENSES, THAT’S IT. AFTER ALL, THE CAMERA IS JUST A TOOL. I CREATE THE IMAGES IN MY HEAD. I DON’T LIKE WHEN THE IMAGES HAVE A LOT OF CLUTTER.

are people who love where they live and the animals they care for. They take care of the land and ensure it’s not sold to some big town investor who wants to build a massive casino, for instance.”

In her latest book, “Ranchland: Wagonhound,” Anouk follows the people of the Wagonhound Ranch in their daily duties. The ranch in Wyoming covers over 300,000 acres, more than 165,000 soccer fields in other words: pretty big. The ranch’s owner grew up on a farm but went to school and worked in finance for years. He later moved back to Wyoming and bought Wagonhound, at the time, a much smaller ranch. Through the years, he has bought land nearby as it’s become available. He loves the land and makes sure there isn’t garbage or clutter around. He is also trying to restore the land to what it looked like a hundred years ago. The ranch’s animals have a good life on the enormous grounds, where they can roam and graze freely.

We talk about the popular TV series Yellowstone. She tells me that the show’s creator, Taylor Sheridan, wrote the prologue to her book, “American Cowboys.”

“He’s a great person. Both feet are firmly planted on the ground. Soft-spoken, humble. You can’t believe he’s one of the greatest scriptwriters in Hollywood.”

That’s what I think Anouk is trying to show in her books: people who live in harmony with themselves and nature, humbled both by that task and by life. She tells a fascinating story of the contemporary cowboy, his family, and their life. Another life. A good life for someone ready to look up from their phone.

Gary Upton has gone from flipping basses to building his own.

MYSTIC | CONNECTICUT

Back to bass in New England

Gary Upton had plans to become a professional bass player. To fund his own instrument, he started flipping basses. Over two decades later, Upton Bass custom makes over 200 upright basses a year.

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY MATTIAS LUNDBLAD

In a red barn in Mystic, Connecticut, some of the best double basses in the United States are being built. The barn, with its old style, blends in with the rural environment, but it was actually built ten years ago. The inside is full of double basses at different stages of completion. The bottom floor is where the first steps in transforming the raw material into an instrument happen. The third floor is the showroom, with about a hundred instruments, some of which are restored used instruments. I quickly learn that there are lots of details in a bass that make a difference.

Gary Upton shows some of the models in the production, all with their own characteristics. An Upton bass is not an impulse purchase. It can take two years from putting in the order to having a finished instrument.

“But if it’s really necessary, we can push one through in six months”, says Gary Upton. The least expensive bass, the Bohemian, is $3,250 and made with plywood and a flat back. It is described as a robust instrument that can take the hits of touring in a van. The Brescian is inspired by Italian and English 16th century instrument makers. A model with more local connections is the Concord, inspired by Abraham Prescott, a luthier in Deerfield, New

Hampshire, who built his first bass in 1819 and continued on to make another 200. It is a more complex instrument, where parts of the sides have an almost circular bend. Starting at $11,000, it ends at twice that depending on wood variety and other choices. Having it among the styles is important part of the New England bass maker identity.

INHOUSE PRODUCTION

Most of the work is done on the middle floor, and when I visit, several steps are happening at once. Thomas Clark is putting a fingerboard on a six string bass – a very unusual instrument, and only the second in the company’s history. Chris Gutierrez is carving the top of another. In the next room, Jack Hanlon is setting a sound post. Upton Bass is one of few makers of double basses in the US where the whole production is done in-house. Most of the coworkers are able to do most steps in the making of an instrument.

Everything started with bass repairs and later assembly of instruments from Eastern Europe. Across the parking lot from the barn is Gary Upton’s own house, where he describes their beginnings.

“When I was in middle school, I played saxophone, trumpet and trombone. My teacher, an amazing bass player,

Gary and his guys make magic in the old red barn in Mystic, Connecticut.

THIS WAS IN THE EARLY DAYS OF THE INTERNET, AND I WAS MAKING AUCTIONS. THEY LET ME START TINKERING WITH BASSES. THEY SAID ‘IF YOU MAKE US MONEY, YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT’.

asked if I wanted to stay after school and try the upright bass. I already played electric bass in church, so I understood some. The double bass has so much soul! I got into it and started playing bass in the orchestra and jazz band. When I graduated, I wanted to study bass playing, but I didn’t have my own instrument.”

Because of that, he applied and got accepted as a singer at the University of Hartford. But bass players are needed in all genres, and it is easier to make a living, so Gary made new plans. He needed to pay for a bass, and took a job in a music store.

FLIPPING BASSES

“This was in the early days of the Internet, and I was making auctions. They let me start tinkering with basses. They said, ‘if you make us money, you do whatever you want.’ I got a couple of basses in and started selling. I think

I was getting eight dollars an hour. I figured I’d work half as hard and make four the money doing it for myself.”

Gary started flipping basses, got his own instrument, and went to school.

“Unfortunately, the bass is not something you can pick up for five hundred bucks. It can be a five or ten thousand dollar investment. I had to take that year to get one.”

Once in school, he realized he wanted to keep working with the instruments.

“There were ads in the newspaper, and sometimes I would find an old Kay bass and call and go see it. This was before the Internet was plugged into everything. I would go to antique shops, and if I found an old nasty bass in the corner, I’d offer 500 bucks for it. I would do some work — sometimes a lot of work — on it. Then I’d bring it to the global marketplace on the Internet and sell it for $500 or $5,000. So I just kept doing that.”

RUBRIK RUBRIK RUBRIK

Everything is handmade by skilled artisans.

A bass parade, what’s not to like?

THE BIRTH OF UPTON BASS

The business grew into a company with five employees, importing instruments from Eastern Europe, a few at a time. After a while, they asked the supplier not to assemble them completely. They were doing more and more of the work, and finally the co-founder Eric Roy suggested bringing it all in-house.

“We were essentially getting the parts and assembling here. Then we had them custom designed for us. The euro kept floating upwards, and I had to fill the orders based upon the new buying rate. I was kind of chasing my tail. Eric said, ‘Why don’t we just buy the raw materials? We’re already almost there. Let’s start making basses.’ We started filtering in our own stuff. Clients had bought basses expecting the imported European things, and we knew we had to give them something better.”

Now the company is making 200 instruments a year, many of them at the same time, and among their customers are many famous musicians.

“So many Grammy Award-winning bass players, average Joes and everything in between are playing them. I was just texting with Jack White’s bass player. Mumford and Sons have three of our basses. Victor Wooten has two, and the guy who plays with Willie Nelson has one.”

With everything being made in-house, the instruments can be tailored to the customer, and there are lots of variables: the right size, the right sound, the right look.

“I can take a Brescian and make it with really hard maple back and sides to make it louder with the bow. A lot of times, I can talk to clients for five minutes, and I know exactly what we will make them. If they come here and I hear how they play, I know very quickly what we will sell.”

There is not much direct competition. Some high quality instruments come from China, and some European instruments are still imported. “But since we have made thousands of basses, our biggest competition is our own instruments in the used market,” says Gary Upton.

SO MANY GRAMMY AWARD WINNING BASS PLAYERS, AVERAGE JOES AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN ARE PLAYING THEM. I WAS JUST TEXTING WITH JACK WHITE’S BASS PLAYER. MUMFORD AND SONS HAVE THREE OF OUR BASSES.

Every detail is important and made in the shop.

WE LAKE IT!

Sure, Mammoth Lakes is famous for skiing, but the little town and its beautiful surroundings are worth a visit off season, too. If you are looking for a change from the heat of the California coast, make your way up into the impressive impressive mountains. Here, you can hike, swim, fish, and get chased by wild bears.

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY FREDRIK LUNDGREN

After a visit to Yosemite National Park (see issue 12), we set our sights on the ski town of Mammoth Lakes, for a little off-season hang and hiking. We approach the town from the south on US-395, the wide shadow of the towering mountains like a blanket across the landscape. It’s awe-inspiring.

We park outside the Alpenhof Lodge, our base camp for the coming days. The Californian heat we had been enduring is gone, replaced by an autumnal chill. It’s a perfect day for a sauna, but the staff informs us that the sauna is closed. This is still the summer season. But our suffering is mild; the fireplace in my room brings comforting warmth, and hints that this is a popular destination for skiers in winter.

ADRENALINE JUNKIE OR BEER ENTHUSIAST?

Mammoth Lakes is a beautiful place. Easily forgotten in the eastern edges of the Sierra Nevadas, with dazzling vistas of snowy peaks and crystal clear lakes. When it comes to outdoors activities, Mammoth Lakes has something for everyone. You can ski and snowboard North America’s best powder at Mammoth Mountain and fly fish on Little Walker Lake. There are also miles and miles of hiking trails to explore, anything from the easy Lake Mary Loop to the more challenging High Trail of Bald Mountain.

If you do not feel at home with the outdoor die-hards, don’t fret. The last few years have seen a growing number of “semi-adventurers” flocking to the majestic nature of the area. This is the category to which I personally belong.

We are the ones who don’t necessarily see ourselves as hardcore adventurers but still like to go into nature on mini expeditions, hike in lighter terrain, paddle board on calm, alpine lakes, or simply enjoy an outdoor picnic with friends. Who needs more adventure than that?

Grabbing a couple of cold ones can also be an adventure. Mammoth Lakes is home to some of California’s best craft breweries. Creating everything from award-wining IPAs and lagers to specialty beers, these breweries are sure to quench any beer enthusiast’s thirst. I took on the task of quality controlling Mammoth Brewing Company, an award-winning brewery in the heart of the little town. The brewery passed with flying colors. Their beer was as refreshing as a night swim in the lake, with flavors as varied as the surrounding landscape.

A HIGH ALTITUDE PLUNGE

While the mountains of Mammoth get more attention than the waterways, the beautifully situated Convict Lake is definitely worth a visit. Just a 15-minute drive from the hotel, a dramatic view of green-blue water surrounded by mountains appears. Hiking around the little lake takes me no more than a few hours, which is just the right amount for me.

The lake is famous both for its beauty and for its trout fishing. The name Convict Lake, however, alludes to another story entirely. Convict Lake is situated in Mono County. The Mono peoples, for whom the county is named, are an indigenous tribe who have lived here for centuries. They called the lake Wit-sa-nap, but white settlers renamed it in the late 19th century after an incident took place here.

There are plenty of good fishing opportunities in Mammoth Lakes.

A bear looking for a journalist snack.

A few of the many popular hiking trails in the area.

Horseback riding is a fascinating way to explore Mammoth Lakes.

THE BEAR WALKS STRAIGHT TOWARD ME, AND WHEN HE IS ONLY A FEW FEET AWAY, I HEAR MY AMERICAN FRIEND CALL OUT, “REMEMBER, IT’S A WILD ANIMAL.”

MY REACTION IS TO DO EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE TOLD NOT TO ACCORDING TO EXPERTS — I TURN AROUND AND RUN AWAY AS FAST AS MY LEGS WILL GO, WITHOUT LETTING THE BEAR OUT OF MY SIGHT FOR A SECOND.

On my hike, I imagine the dramatic events that unfolded around the lake over 150 years ago. A group of convicts had escaped the prison in nearby Carson City and hid out by the lake. A guard was shot and several others wounded in the escape. At the head of the efforts was convicted murderer Charlie Jones, well-known by Mono County and Inyo County authorities for his notorious crimes. After breaking out of the jail, Jones led his rag-tag team south toward Mammoth Lakes in search of food.

Jones and his cronies attempted to get across the mountain. Their goal was to reach the west side of the mountain ridge, where they hoped they would be safe. They camped out for the night by the lake, at the time still called Wit-sa-nap, knowing that their freedom was frail and that the long arm of the law was not far behind.

Like a scene from the finest Western film, an armed group soon appeared, and a fierce shoot-out began. Eventually, most of the escaped convicts surrendered, and 18 of their group of 29 were taken back in custody. Jones and his closest crew managed to escape, but it was a short-lived freedom. Soon they, too, were captured and killed. The remaining convicts were lynched on their way back to jail, and the lake was left with its new name.

ON A WESTERN MOVIE SET?

It isn’t hard to imagine the scene that took place here. The landscape looks like the movie set of any Western, but finding bear droppings on the path quickly snaps me back to reality. Better stay alert so I don’t become someone’s lunch. I look out over the lake, where the trout lurk. As the sun appears from behind the clouds, I cannot resist a dip in the cooling water.

There are many lakes in the area around Mammoth. For instance, there is Horseshoe Lake, a very special place. A few smaller volcanic eruptions at the end of the 1980s

caused many trees around the lake to die. Today, they remain as a sculpture park. The lake is in Inyo National Forest, a part of Mammoth Lakes. If you like hiking, this is an amazing place to visit. The alpine landscape surrounding the lake makes the air cool and refreshing.

BEAR RUN

It’s near the end of the day, after a walk along one of the lakes, that I experience something which will make me even more humble in the face of Mother Nature. As I’m looking out over the lake, something large, brown, and furry appears in the bushes just a few yards ahead. Out steps a 500-pound brown bear. The bear sniffs around the lake shore, probably in search of fish abandoned by fly fishers. Or is he in the mood for some fresh journalist sushi, perhaps? I bring out my camera but am suddenly frozen on the spot, forgetting not just where I am but also how to breathe.

The bear walks straight toward me, and when he is only a few feet away, I hear my American friend call out, “Remember, it’s a wild animal.” My reaction is to do exactly what you are told not to according to experts — I turn around and run away as fast as my legs will go, without letting the bear out of my sight for a second. The bear lumbers on, completely unbothered by our presence and my absolute lack of bear skills. It disappears into the woods, while I have adrenaline coming out of every pore, my hands shaking uncontrollably. An unforgettable moment, to be sure.

Whether you are on the hunt for adventure or just want to escape the big city stress to relax in nature, Mammoth Lakes is a great option. There is an airport here, but San Fransisco is also just a day’s drive and a nice road trip away. Here, you will find activities to suit every level of adventurer, dramatic views, and, when the sun has set, an impressive starry sky to enjoy.

author takes a quick swim to cool down.

The

Kiss of death?

GATOR PATROL | LOUISIANA

WORDS BY JONAS LARSSON | PHOTO BY ANDERS BERGERSEN

There’s something about alligators and crocodiles. Ever since I was a small child, they have fascinated and terrified me. If you’re in New Orleans and have a day to spare, going on an alligator tour in the Bayou - the marshy wetlands outside the city - is a fun and interesting way to spend it.

Airboat Adventure’s own bus picks us up outside our Frenchmen Street hotel, to leave the safety of NOLA far behind. We reach the swamps within an hour, and it really looks like in the movies. Houses on stilts in the water and an immediate alligator sighting. The size of a German Shepherd, it disappears quick as a paycheck the second it spots us. We are given hearing protection and the swamp boat takes off, an enormous airplane propeller behind us and the captain on what looks like a beach guard tower. Soon, we slow into a lagoon, and when we stop, they approach: three alligators, swimming toward the boat. Our captain brings out a bag of marshmallows. The largest alligator, a female nearly six feet long, obliges and opens her mouth wide. The captain confidently puts a marshmallow in her mouth, then scratches her throat and kisses her right on the mouth. They seem wise and kind. The alligators prefer to eat large rodents, which they kill and bury, letting them ripen for a few days before it is dinnertime. On our way home, the sun sets over the Bayou and I think that I may no longer be as afraid, but there are many other animals I would much rather kiss on the mouth.