Millersburg Ferry is nearing 200 years old

MILLERSBURG, Pa. - "Reverse!" Capt. Donald Lebo shouts in a voice like a bronze gong. The Falcon backs away slowly from the riverbank; at the bow, First Mate Nathan Hoy poles the craft in a 180-degree arc until it is aimed at the opposite shore.

Keeping both meaty hands on the tiller and both bespectacled eyes on the river, Lebo leans to a microphone and addresses his seven passengers:

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard the Falcon. We'll be traveling about nine-tenths of a mile - 4,785 feet shore to shore, to be exact - and, depending on wind and current, it will take us about 20 minutes. This is the Millersburg Ferry, which began service in 1817."

The vibratory hum of the Deutz diesel engine rises, and the Falcon picks up speed. Astern, two nine-bladed paddle wheels churn the Susquehanna's water into a foamy wake. The many-steepled town of Millersburg recedes, posing like calendar art above its reflection in the placid river. Thirty yards off the port side, a wading great blue heron snaps up a small fish, swallows it, then takes off, skimming along two inches above the water and showing off its six-foot wingspan.

There are two boats in the Millersburg Ferry fleet, the Falcon and the Roaring Bull. According to the Coast Guard, which regulates them, they are the last all-wooden, stern-wheel ferries operating in the United States. In early November, they will be taken out of the water, as they are each autumn, to protect them from ice. And, just as in past years, there is no guarantee they will return in the spring for the 193d year.

"We had a really good year because the water was high for all the rain, and we were able to cross nearly every day," says Diane Hammaker, operations manager of the Millersburg Ferry Boat Association, a nonprofit group that took over the service in 1990. "But we need to raise a lot of money this winter."

The ferry operates about 30 miles north of Harrisburg between Millersburg (population 3,000) and a point on the western shore in Perry County called Crow's Landing. It will carry about 20,000 passengers this year, nearly all of them tourists bent on sampling a slice of transportation history. For that privilege they pay a one-way fare of $2 as passengers, $6 if they take a vehicle aboard.

Although a ferry may have been running here as early as 1760, local historians date the origin of the Millersburg Ferry to 1817. The first boats were man-powered: The ferrymen rowed or poled the craft across. Steam came along in 1873, gasoline took over about 1920, and diesel engines were installed in 2000. The more celebrated passengers over the years have included, it is said, Thomas Jefferson, Henry Ford, and Thomas Edison.

The Falcon is a boxy craft with a raftlike barge attached to its starboard side to carry cars, trucks, motorcycles, and bicycles. Today its only vehicular passenger is a tan Hyundai SUV.

Some would even call the Falcon ugly. Without any doubt, it is a triumph of function over form.

Lebo emits a little wheeze of disgust at that assessment. "These ferryboats survive today because they have evolved over nearly two centuries and are perfectly suited for this time and this place."

Today the captain is following a zigzag course. "I'm avoiding rock ledges and shallow areas," he explains, "but the water has been higher than normal most of the year. In most years, we operate in as little as 18 inches. We like to tell people, 'If you fall overboard, stand up so you don't get wet.' " A faint smile tweaks his mustache.

The Falcon passes tiny islands called Halfway, Cunningham's, and Little Sandy.

"The islands change in name and size from year to year," Lebo says. "That one over there used to be called Longie until an ice jam carried three-quarters of it away. Now we call it Shortie."

He keeps a poker face and admires three American eagles sitting on what appears to be an earthen dam across the length of the river.

"It is a dam, but we don't call it that. We call it the ferry wall, and it was first built in 1871. We have to build it back up nearly every year with mud and rocks dredged from the river. What it does is keep the water just high enough to float the ferries."

A stiff breeze puckers the river surface and sends facets of sunlight dancing across it. On either side timbered mountains - named Berry's, Patrick, Buffalo, and Mahantango - are blued by the haze of distance.

The Smithsonian Institution calls the ferry "a living museum and a major national treasure." In 2006, it was placed on the National Register of Historic Places, a designation that applies only to the landings, the ferry wall, and the river channels. The boats are modern; the Falcon was built in 1974, the Roaring Bull in 1999.

"We had been trying to get on the National Register since 1971," Hammaker says. "It was important because it allows us to apply for various loans and grants."

Just last winter the ferry seemed doomed because both boats needed extensive repairs; it was rescued with a $90,000 grant from the U.S. Agriculture Department, which said the ferry was essential to the rural economy of Millersburg because it draws tourists to restaurants and retail outlets.

Lebo throttles down the engine as the Falcon approaches Crow's Landing. "The old steam ferries used to have side paddle wheels," he says, "but there were stern-wheelers on the river dredging coal, and one year they decided to have a race. The stern-wheelers won, and so we switched. That was around 1919."

Once the mate secures the ferry, the Hyundai rolls off, thumping the loose boards of the decking. Just off the landing a house door hangs on a frame with a sign, visible from the opposite shore, that says, "Swing Out to Call Ferry." Fish scoot like fluttering scarves in the clear water. Five more passengers, plus a blue Toyota, board for the return trip. A big white egret observes the action from a nearby rock, croaking - cuk, cuk, cuk - through its yellow bill.

After running a bureaucratic gauntlet for several years, the ferry last year obtained the needed state and federal permits to dredge the main channel across the river about a foot deeper. "This would allow us to operate when the river is low," Hammaker says. "Last year we had to shut down for most of August because of low water."

"We need to raise about $300,000 to do the dredging," she says. "That's a long-range goal, but we will need to get $8,000 or $10,000 over the winter just to repair the boats and build up the ferry wall. We'll apply for grants, and hold fund-raisers, but who knows? We live from one year to the next."