Tag: Ferry

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.

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.