Bartering a tradition of Okanogan fall fair
That's how the annual Okanogan Family Faire began: pure barter. Over the years, the event has grown and some of its ways have changed. Some sell for money now, but many of the 3,000 people who spent the weekend camping, shopping, performing and roaming around a vacant field, some 12 miles east of Tonasket, traded just as they did when the gathering started in 1974.
Nearly 30 years after the Family Faire's unassuming start on a piece of donated land, the melding of younger and older countercultures seems to be working out nicely.
Originally called the Northeast Washington Barter fair, it has for years been a Pacific Northwest secret. The fair was in two other locations before moving to the current one, where it is surrounded by mountains, scattered trees and, at night, a sky full of stars.
It's equally easy to find people who have been at the fair since it started and those attending for the first time. It's a campout and a farmers' market, a huge swap meet. It's a Grateful Dead show without the band.
Residents from neighboring towns have always been drawn to the fair. But in recent years more and more people are driving from other parts of Washington and British Columbia.
After traveling up the hill from Tonasket, then down the dirt road into the fair, the spirit of the place is immediately apparent. Volunteers offer visitors a free jug of water, then direct them to the camping area.
There are trucks and cars, buses and tepees, mobile homes and station wagons. You pitch your tent, say hello to your neighbors and walk down to the fair to join partakers of all ages.
Stalls, crammed together, are loaded with trinkets, kind of like a Moroccan souk. There are crafts, jewelry, natural honey, organic coffee, fresh produce, solar panels, compost toilets, goat cheese, massage tables and chai.
Curly fries, fried Twinkies and elephant ears somehow have crept in.
"You can tell what it used to be like," said John Gonzales , eating a plate of huckleberry pancakes. "I guess you need a little of everything."
During the day, people shop. Some know exactly what they want, but Ellen Jenkins says it's more fun to bring a basket of stuff and trade as you go.
She started with three dozen bags of thyme and rosemary that she grew in her garden, and by Saturday afternoon had some smoked salmon, a beaded purple necklace, a small tape recorder, dried flowers and more.
At night, people stand at campfires and walk around bundled in blankets. A vendor selling wool ponchos said she was happy with the 35-degree chill.
At all times, there is music.
Bluegrass and folk seemed most popular with members of the older generation as they burned cedar in the campfire, while the younger crowd enjoyed drum circles and dancing. Musicians carried around instruments and joined in when they could or just stopped and played solos.
"You can feel the new, young energy," said Bryan Dosher, of Seattle, attending for the first time. The fair is the biggest thing in Okanogan County and considered the final gathering before winter, said Val Welles, 58, who lives in the nearby Aeneas Valley and has been attending for the past 10 years.
She stays in, canning all summer, except for Thursdays when she goes to the farmers market to get produce and fruit. She has tables full of pickled vegetables, jams, jellies and spiced pears.
This year she made some good trades. "I got a bunch of lavender, a few loaves of pumpkin bread and a new hat," she said. "I trade and take cash; got to make enough to last through winter."
Welles and her husband are happy about the growing crowds but say the atmosphere has changed and a stronger police presence has emerged.
All over Tonasket, people talk about the good changes and the bad ones. But they all still go.
Because where else, before settling in for the winter, can you see parlor pigeons for sale, a $5 rooster, free kittens, homemade wine, home-grown tobacco, salmon, berries, sheepskin, clothes and tie-dye?
And where else to make this sort of deal: "Have massage and music," one sign read. "Need milking stool."
Leslie Fulbright: 206-515-5637 or lfulbright@seattletimes.com