Travels with Billie

Moon Over Ferry

Alaska’s homesteaders are a unique breed unto themselves.

In reviewing the old posts to my blog I came across one where I promised to tell the story of the “Moon Over Ferry” at a later time.

This is one of my favorite stories to tell, and my coworkers and guests enjoyed hearing it on our tours through interior Alaska. It’s a bit long, so settle back and pretend you’re on a motor coach traveling from Fairbanks to Denali.

We are driving on the Parks Highway, which is one of the few major thoroughfares in Alaska. It connects Anchorage and Fairbanks, and was built in the early 1970s. Before then, the homestead communities in that area depended on the Alaska Railroad for transportation, mail, and freight. The little town of Ferry was one of those. There is a railroad bridge across the Nenana River, and just on the other side was a log cabin that served as the Post Office. The train would come through daily, exchange mail, and deliver boxes and packages. If you look down to the left you can see the river, and spot the occasional rooftop of a homestead in the far-flung community of Ferry.

When the Parks Highway was completed, the residents of Ferry put up mailboxes on the highway and the cabin was turned into a community center. It meant the good folks in Ferry could finally drive to Fairbanks or Anchorage to do their shopping.

Just one problem: the community was on the OTHER side of the river from the highway, and the only way across was the railroad bridge. That didn’t really bother the residents of Ferry, since they are an independent and inventive lot. They built garages on the highway side of the river, and used 4-wheelers to cross the railroad bridge to their homes.

Their use of the railroad bridge eventually came to the attention of the officials of the Alaska Railroad. Concerned for the safety of the community, as well as the risk to their trains, they posted a sign at the bridge that forbade crossing the bridge.

Never underestimate the inventiveness and persistence of an Alaskan homesteader.

The good citizens of Ferry took down the sign and sent a letter to the officials in Juneau thanking them for the wood and the nails, since they are hard to come by in the bush country.

The railroad came back and bolted a metal sign with the same message.

Another letter from the citizens of Ferry to the officials in Juneau: “Gee, thanks for the bolts and the metal work. We could really use those.”

Finally, the railroad crew erected concrete barriers, preventing any motorized vehicle from accessing the bridge.

Undaunted, the good folks of Ferry decided they needed to send a message to the railroad. So every time the passenger train, loaded with tourists, came through Ferry, everyone in town would gather along the tracks and moon the train. Hence, “Moon Over Ferry.”

The railroad figured they would get tired of this gambit, but what they didn’t count on was the stubbornness of a bunch of homesteaders who could make the time to gather twice a day. And have fun doing it! A month went by, and still they mooned the trains.

Finally, the railroad officials gave in and built an addition to the side of the bridge just wide enough for a four-wheeler to fit. Success!

That’s not really the end of the story, though. The good folks of Ferry enjoyed their gatherings so much, that they decided to keep the tradition (just to remind the Alaska Railroad who was really in charge). On every fourth of July the entire community gathers for a cookout. When the afternoon passenger train comes through, everyone gathers by the tracks and moons the train as all the tourists snap photos of this unique Alaskan tradition.

This story is true. Mostly.

About My Stories…

Since I decided to start blogging again, I started to think about the stories I plan to tell. So: Pay Attention Please!

I tell different types of stories. There are stories, memories, and musings. All my stories are based in fact. However, they are created to entertain. When I told stories to my tour guests, I usually ended with the statement: “This story is true. Mostly.” So my stories will be true. Mostly.

When I relate a memory, it is as true as my flawed memory will allow. Have you ever returned to a place that was smaller than you remembered, or come across an old flame who is less enticing than your memories of them? Events end up getting filed into our memories, and then they get dusted with the fairy dust of years and come out again somewhat changed. So forgive me if I report something that might be a bit off.

As far as musings are concerned, those are just the weird crap that pops into my mind. I usually tell those to the mirror as I’m getting ready for the day, but now I’ll put some of them down here.

Starting Over (or Again)

I just took a look at the site I started to share my travel stories, and…Holy Mackerel! I haven’t posted a thing in EIGHT YEARS. I have all the excuses ready: We sold our house and moved home to Montana. I continued to work in Alaska during the summer. We traveled. A lot. Then my loving spouse had heart surgery, and by the time they let him come home …Covid!

Despite all the excuses, in the end I just didn’t keep up with it.

Last week I was reading a story about telling stories, and realized how much I miss it. You see, for the last three summers I worked in Alaska, I was a Tour Director. I led up to 50 guests at a time on multi-day tours through Alaska and the Yukon-and I loved it! I had a captive audience, a microphone, and lots of time to tell stories. My guests loved it too (well, most of them), and the one comment I heard over and over again was how much they enjoyed my stories. I miss telling stories. And until our world of travel gets back to normal, this blog is the only way of telling those stories.

So I’m going to start again. This started off as a travel blog, but I think I’m going to morph it into a “stories about anything” blog. Some of the stories I told as a Tour Director are linked to specific places – it’s interesting to try timing a story so the punch line comes just as the subject of the story arrives in the window of our motor coach. I’m hoping I’ll be able to tell the stories along with descriptions of the places.

I also have a lot of years behind me, filled with adventures. I’ve lived in Alaska and Montana, but also California, New York, New Jersey, Arizona, and Washington. I’ve had at least four careers, not to mention random jobs. I’ve traveled to 37 countries, which is pretty good considering that just nine years ago the sum total of my international travel was Canada and Mexico. I’ve lived through natural disasters, and seen things that make me go, “Wow!”

So, here we go.

Pompeii and Sorrento

After leaving our Rome hotel we headed back to the airport to meet our transfer bus to the cruise port of Civitaveccia. Even that was a bit of history: the entrance to the port area was designed by Michelangelo! We sailed that afternoon, arriving in Naples the next morning.

We took a tour that brought us to Pompeii, and then to Sorrento. Because we were traveling in the off-season, Pompeii was not at all crowded. It was also cool, and from what I had heard that’s a really good thing!

I’m still trying to wrap my head around walking through streets and buildings that are largely unchanged in 2000 years. We saw the old Roman version of fast food, and even their house for prostitutes (complete with mosaics on the walls showing the services available). For the first time I really understood how civilized the Romans were. This was a city-actually a vacation spot-that had restaurants and theaters and baths and beautiful homes. They had running water and a method for cleaning the streets. Oh, and they had a great view of Mt. Vesuvius.

After leaving Pompeii we went to a local farm, where we watched this lady making mozzarella cheese. She couldn’t speak a word of English, but she had a great sense of humor. We were treated to appetizers of their cheese and fresh tomatoes with olive oil from their farm, along with limoncello. Before this, I thought mozzarella cheese was only good for burying under spaghetti sauce. After having fresh Italian-made mozzarella, I realize I’ve never really had good mozzarella before. The taste and the texture are completely different from the rubbery, tasteless stuff we get in the US.

We left with two bottles of the limoncello made on the farm. Also better that we’ve ever had before.

We finished the day in Sorrento, doing a little shopping and enjoying the beautiful town. We had lunch in a pizza place that has been there for over 100 years. We thought the pizza we had in Rome was great. This was even better!

The Vatican Museum-Incredible

We purchased tickets for the Vatican Museum before we left on vacation. We were fortunate that we could walk to the museum from our hotel, although we were of course on the opposite side of the Vatican from where the entrance was.

On advice from a friend who is a seasoned traveler, we chose to go to the museum on the day the Pope held his usual Wednesday audience. As we walked through St. Peter’s Square, they were putting up the barriers to handle the crowds. After spending six hours in the museum, we saw them taking all the barriers down. Because so many visitors were in the square to see the Pope, the museum was uncrowded and delightful.

This visit was required, since the carrot I dangled to DH to get him to fly across the ocean was that he would be able to see the Sistine Chapel. And what a carrot it turned out to be! Having lived in New York and visited Washington DC many times, I’ve spent a lot of time in museums. This was different. I was awestruck. Not only was the artwork enough to make me go “AWWWW”, but the buildings themselves are art. Every room was more beautiful and opulent than the one previous. The photo here is of the ceiling of only one hallway, and it’s just half the hallway. Every single panel is a work of art, and there are hundreds of them.

We did finally see the Sistine Chapel; it was almost anticlimactic to be after the hours spent being overwhelmed by one amazing piece of artwork after another. I guess I was expecting the room itself to be more ornate, but it turns out that when it’s open to visitors it is completely empty other than a few benches along the walls. it makes sense; thousands of people go through every day, and really, we’re just there to see the frescoes.

We capped this day off with dinner at nearby restaurant I found on TripAdvisor. It was a meal we’ll always remember. For one price (at 90 Euros a bit costly, but not ridiculous) we spent three hours learning what a real Italian meal should be. Starting with a glass of prosecco, we then had wine, antipasto (NINE different dishes), pasta (two dishes), meat course (three different types), fruit course, dessert, and coffee. It was all finished up with the waiter bringing us three bottles and telling us it was Sprite, Dr. Pepper, and lemonade. We tried to plead that we were stuffed, but he told us with a big grin that we couldn’t leave until we tried all three. It turned out to be homemade lemoncello, some sort of sweet liquor, and grappa.

As we walked back to our hotel, we looked up the street and could see the dome of St. Peters shining at the end of the street. The perfect end to our time in Rome, and a memory to bring us back one day.

Transatlantic Cruise (Belatedly)

In December we had the opportunity to take an 18-day cruise that went from Rome to Fort Lauderdale. It was a little crazy: we were in San Antonio to spend the week of Thanksgiving with our son and his family. We got home late one night and left early the next morning for San Diego. The following morning we headed to Rome. When we returned, it was Christmas and we went jet-lagged into the festivities with another son’s family.

The flight to Rome was notable only thanks to the newlyweds sitting behind us on the transatlantic flight. They were alternately loving, loud, obnoxious, drunk, and squabbling. We got no sleep. But neither did they, and they looked somewhat the worse for wear when we arrived in Rome. I can only wonder how long that marriage lasted!

Once we arrived in Rome things took a positive turn. I had arranged for a car service to take us to our hotel, and they were wonderful. RomeCabs is a great company and I highly recommend them. And they cost LESS than a taxi! When we got to our hotel it was around 9 am, and I asked if they would check our bags while we went sightseeing since I knew check-in time was 3 pm. They actually gave us our room early, and did not charge extra. Another big win.

Once we got settled in our room we went off to the Colosseum to do some sightseeing. How do you describe standing in a building that’s 2000 years old? I can’t. You gotta go! Looking out from those walls, I was able to see the Roman forum, and could almost imagine Caesar and the Senators walking along and discussing the state of the Roman Empire.

Highlight of the day? Trying to figure out how to find a cab back to our hotel from the Colosseum. We were finally assisted by a Roman soldier in full regalia, who was talking on his cell phone. Now why didn’t I take a photo of that? Oh, and the other highlight: Pizza!

Alaska As I Remember It

The Fourth of July. Usually it passes mostly unremarked here…we have guests to attend to, buses to run, vacation dreams to fulfill. Oh, we do have a cookout and some games, but it’s still a workday.

This year was different, however. I was invited to the celebration in the town of Ferry, which, until the day before, I didn’t even know existed. I have a distant relative, whom I’ve only met once before, who lives in Ferry, Alaska. My sister-in-law has encouraged us to get together, but it didn’t really register how very close they live. Anyway, my cousin-by-marriage called me the night before the 4th and invited me to come to their town cookout. It turned out to be much more than I expected, and a delightful time.

I agreed to come after work, and I got the directions of how to get to the town. It went along the lines of: drive to milepost xxx on the Parks Highway and take the Ferry Road (which, by the way, is unmarked) to the railroad tracks. Then turn left and follow the tracks until you come to a lot of cars. Wait there to be picked up. I did all that. There’s a railroad bridge that crosses the Nenana River. Shortly after I arrived, here came my cousin on an ATV over a walkway on the bridge. I climbed on the back of the ATV and off we went, back over the river to Ferry.

I walked into an Alaska I remember from my childhood. Our host was an true Alaskan old fart who welcomed me with a kiss on the hand and an offer of food. His hand-built log cabin is a step back into history, obviously hand-built. Their “community center” was at one time the post office-also a log cabin that was turned over to Ferry when the Parks Highway was built and mail started being delivered to mailboxes on the highway rather than by the train. It has a bar, a sitting area with an original barber chair, a pool table, and enough memorabilia to make an antique lover swoon.

I also got a tour of our host’s cabin. So here, in the Alaskan bush, in the cabin of this 80-something sourdough, sits a baby grand piano. How did it get there? Well, the good citizens of Ferry carried it across the railroad bridge. Ah, the railroad bridge. That’s a whole other story. It turns out that the town of Ferry is quite famous. Maybe I’ll write the whole story once I get it right from the mouths of those who know the real story-the residents of Ferry. For now, let me entice you with a promise to tell the story of the Ferry Moon.

But Ferry isn’t completely Alaska Bush. In fact, one of the folks there said they live in the “Cush Bush”. Yes, they are highly spread out (I didn’t actually see any homes other than our host’s-people in Alaska like their neighbors to be close enough to visit…but not too often). Yes, they have well water and outhouses. But they also have electricity and 4G internet and cell service. Turns out the cell tower is right in town.

The town fascinates me, and I assured both my cousin and my host that I’d be back to visit. I itched to take time to really photograph this remnant of Alaskana, but it didn’t seem polite. Next time I’ll take my camera, and ask permission. There are literally hundreds of photos sitting there waiting to be made.

Just a Moment

Sometimes an amazing moment happens so quietly, unnoticed by most. This was one of those moments. The photo isn’t one of my best, but it captures something special so I’m going to include it here anyway.

The other morning I was leaving our housing to walk across the street to have breakfast at our larger facility, which houses our Employee Dining Room. Because it was early in the morning, no one was about, and I was focused on starting my work day.

I walked out the front door and onto the deck, which is only about 10 feet deep. I nearly walked right across and down the steps, but thankfully I noticed the moose that was standing right next to the stairs. I didn’t see her at first because there is a railing there and it blocked most of my view of her. I say thankfully, because moose, particularly females, can be very aggressive. You really don’t want to get into an argument with a creature who weighs over 1000 pounds, no matter how docile they might seem to the casual observer.

She was just standing there quietly, not moving, until I came out the door. She lifted her huge head and looked at me, standing only ten feet away. I was so astonished I just stood there and stared at her. It wasn’t until she started to casually stroll away that I came to my senses and started frantically digging for my iPhone to take a picture.

She walked across the parking lot, across the street, into the parking lot of the bar/restaurant across the street, and disappeared into the woods behind the bar. No one else was around, she didn’t run, she just slowly ambled away and into the woods. I stood there for several minutes looking at the place where she vanished into the trees, and finally walked across the street to breakfast. It was almost like it never happened. Almost.

Summer Has Arrived

Last year I talked a bit about how everything here seems to be in a hurry to stuff everything they can into the short summer season. When the warm weather arrived here, it seemed as though the mountainsides turned green overnight. One of our drivers told me she saw the roadside flowers bloom between 2 AM and 6 AM. Just that fast. With 21 hours of daylight here in Denali, summer is in high gear.

The moose have been very evident along the roads, chomping on all that nice tender greenery. I hear tell the beavers are busy at Horseshoe Lake, too, but when I finally made it there yesterday the only wildlife I saw was the Alaska State Bird: the mosquito. There were so many my pictures are full of blurry little smudges.

While last summer we experienced very few really warm days, this year seems to be trying to make up for the late arrival of Spring. Today the thermometer (according to the Weather Channel) hovered at 88 degrees. There is no air conditioning. Fortunately I have a fan, but it’s still pretty uncomfortable.

The good thing as that since this is Alaska, it might snow tomorrow. We can only hope.

What a Great Weekend!

This is what I’ve been waiting for since I arrived two months ago…

I finally got to take the shuttle into Denali Park on Saturday. I rode to the Eielson Visitor Center, and saw my first grizzly of the season. Actually, the tally was 31 Dall sheep, four grizzlies, 14 caribou, six moose, and three ptarmigan. None of our encounters was extraordinary…no bears walking down the middle of the road, no baby moose, and no view of the Mountain (Denali, for the uninitiated). But the landscape continues to call to me, the sheer joy of being in a land untroubled by modern civilization.

Well, there was one bear reasonably close, and since it was my first good look for the season, I’ll take it.

The plan for Sunday was to relax, do laundry, and maybe venture over to the Park entrance to hike to Horseshoe Lake. It’s an easy hike, under a mile, with a pretty lake with beavers and other wildlife (including the gigantic Alaskan Mosquito). Somehow I never made it. My friend Diane convinced me to do the hike early instead of later, so we started out toward the Park only to be waylaid by a moose and twin babies. Of course we had to stop and take lots of photos.

Finally, off to Horseshoe. We got about halfway in to the lake when Diane spotted an owl having a disagreement with a raven. It seems the raven had its eye on the owl’s nest; whether it was for baby owls or eggs we don’t know. We spent a good deal of time watching the drama unfold, and at one point the raven came right to the owl’s nest, who proceeded to spread her wings and cover the nest to keep the raven out.

Pretty amazing day, right? Well, we never got to Horseshoe Lake. We got a call telling us we could take a glacier landing flight if we could get back to the lodge in a half hour. So we hustled back, always within the speed limit, of course. The weather was beautiful, but I was worried that I was in a t-shirt with no jacket, heading up to Ruth Glacier on Denali. I needn’t have worried. I was so excited, and the weather was so beautiful, I never noticed the chill.

This was a bit of my personal history coming back to me. When we landed, the pilot pointed out a building that belonged to the famous bush pilot, Don Sheldon. Many years ago when I was just a child, Don was in my mother’s restaurant and tried to talk her into letting him fly me up to the glacier. Mom’s reaction was mostly along the lines of “Are you kidding me? I’m not letting you take my 9-year-old up to land on a piece of ice!” Of course, I was doing every bit of wheedling I knew to get her to let me go, but no dice. So, Mom, wherever you are up there, I finally got to go!

This is why I come back to Alaska in the summer. Why I actually work when I’m supposedly retired. Because you never know what you might see around the next corner.