The Great Wolf Lodge is a prime symbol of conspicuous conservation and Disneyfication, hidden under the slick guise of America’s favorite family water park.
But the slides are awesome.
The Great Wolf Lodge is located in Grand Mound, Washington, a 3000-population Census Designated Place near Centralia. To get there, you take an unmarked exit off of I-5 and take a right on Harrison Avenue, which quickly turns into Old Hwy 99, a 2-lane 3.8 mile stretch that constitutes Grand Mound CDP’s main street.
The view ranges from whitewashed shacks stained grey from rain, dirt and a general lack of care to one-story homes with elaborate gardens, sweet grandmothers and lawn ornaments. Besides a group of overweight pre-teens with red and green streaks in their hair walking on the side of the road, nobody is around. The answer lies in the parking lot of the Junction Sports Bar & Grille, which is nearly filled with cars.
Twenty-eight percent of the Grand Mound CDP population lives below the poverty level. The median income is $45,079, compared to Washington state’s median income of $59,374. The per capital income is $19,242 and you can buy a three bedroom house for less than $200,000.
As the highway continues, the mobile homes abruptly disappear, allowing a gleaming stucco-style mammoth of a building to occupy the majority of your passenger window view. Two wolves, which the majority of the kid-aged lodge guests would describe as “ginormous,” made to look hand-carved surround the Great Wolf Lodge sign, which hangs under a classic ski lodge A-frame.
In front of the automatic lodge doors, children run amok, sporting the complimentary gray wolf ears that the lodge provides to every guest — that is, with the purchase of a $200-600/night suite.
Actually entering the lodge is what I can imagine Alice felt like after going down the rabbit hole (for lack of a better metaphor): holy shit. Immediately, the smell of chlorine and six-year-olds (a sour mix of Chuck-e-Cheeze, Toys ‘r Us and Fruit by the Foot) permeates the air, along with a humid musk. Haphazardly placed taxidermy wolves stand on the fake roof covering the check-in desk and in various places of the lobby. When kids ask if the wolves are real, the employees cheerfully recite, “of course not!”
Giant chandeliers made of antlers hang from the x-braced ceilings, no doubt the creation of a cracked out ex-Pottery Barn designer inspired by a bad mix of the Sasquatch Music Festival and Duck Dynasty. The lobby’s centerpiece is the facade of a woodland cottage surrounded by a faux log fence, a C-list Disneyland knockoff photo op spot.
Behind the cottage lies a gift shop bigger than those in most international airports where you can buy Great Wolf-branded everything, from a “lodge-urious” $34.99 towel to a $21.99 “Great Outdoors Glitz Tumbler.” They even have shot glasses. Never mind the fact that there’s no alcohol anywhere in the lodge, much to the chagrin of my 21-year-old self (shout out to Dad for sneaking in beer).
Wolves on cups, wolf statues, wolves on tote bags, wolf stuffed animals, wolf picture frames and enough other wolf products to make even Fred Armisen cringe.
Don’t want wolves? (Leave.) Don’t worry. Right across is a Magi Quest store, the Great Wolfe Lodge’s own fantasy franchise, which exists only inside the lodge and vaguely fits in with the forest/wolf theme. For a $25 base fee plus a $25 activation fee, you can buy a light-up wand that allows your child to go on a “Magi Quest” through the lodge, which consists of riding the elevator up and down the six floors and pointing it at closed treasure chests and whatnot.
There’s also a Starbucks. (which serves as the only reminder that there is a world outside the Great Wolf Lodge and all of their rhyme and alliteration-filled trademarked restaurants.)
Great Wolf Resorts is the largest water park franchise in the United States. They have 13 locations all over the country and even one in Niagara Falls. Grand Mound’s resort was the first west coast location and opened in 2008. The $170 million dollar resort project gained a heavily debated tax exemption in 2005 due to a partnership with the Chehalis Tribe.
The most puzzling aspect of The Great Wolf Lodge is its reputation for being environmentally friendly. The resort even has a Green Seal Silver Certification for being sustainable. I’ve got to hand it to them- somehow a 68,000 square ft. water park, which boasts using 30,000 gallons of water, has managed to brand themselves as being a leader in conservation- or at least they did in 2011, when the certification was given.
At least three times a day, the lodge offers The Great Clock Tower Show in the lobby (one of the only free activities).
The clock strikes eight and an animatronic nightmare ensues. A moose pokes his head out from cheesy log cabin. A Barney-esque voice fills the loudspeaker as the moose addresses the dozens of children and parents sitting on the carpet. And so begins the ten-minute descent into the Uncanny Valley. The trees start mechanically jiggling, an owl jerkily moves its head from left to right. And most disturbingly, the log cabin window opens to reveal a life size girl doll dressed in traditional Native American dress who starts singing about conservation. (Is this is the Chehalis influence that allowed the tax exemption?) The show abruptly (and thankfully) ends and a Great Wolf employee walks in front of the tower, followed by two costume character wolves. The employee informs the crowd that she will be reading a book (written by the Great Wolfe Lodge, of course) about how important it is to take care of the forest. When she pulls the costumed-wolf’s necktie, everyone must howl.
Nobody listens to the story because A. the woman doesn’t have a microphone and B. putting a costume characters in front of a small child is like putting a stripper in front of an 18-year-old boy. Afterward, the kids line up and take photos with the wolves, who are dressed as a nature-loving Boy Scout and a pink and purple-clad little cub.
It’s too easy and unexpectedly inaccurate to accuse The Great Wolf Lodge of green-washing. What’s more accurate and problematic is the Disneyfication — the relentless merchandising, theming and inflation of prices that has come to define the family vacation. As the homepage boasts, “Your family getaway begins here.” Here being an 84-degree, 56,000 square-foot indoor water park where everything is Great Wolf — branded except the indoor Starbucks.
But hey, the slides are awesome.