A moving experience on a non-moving train in Willow, Alaska

Author: By Richard P. Carpenter, Globe Staff

Date: SUNDAY, June 23, 1996

Page: B11

Section: Travel

Surprisingly, you have a bit of fun.

The reason for the delay was anything but funny. A wildfire was blazing in the Big Lake area, 50 miles north of Anchorage, burning some 42,000 acres and forcing 3,000 to leave their homes. The train, with about 550 aboard, was halted in the sparsely-populated town of Willow, a dozen or so miles from the edge of the fire, until buses were able to get through the area and take us to Anchorage, where a comfortable hotel awaited.

The train was divided into three segments -- Alaska Railroad cars up front, followed by cars for Holland America and Princess Cruises, both of which conduct land-and-sea tours of the great state of Alaska. I was among those on a Princess Midnight Sun Express Ultra Dome Car in early June, savoring the spectacular scenery, when an announcement came over the speakers: ``Folks, we'll be backing up a bit.'' And so we did for a mile or two, stopping across from the Willow Trading Post, the kind of place with a totem pole, more than a dozen rabbits scampering on the lawn and a sign boasting: ``Cabins . . . Sauna . . . Liquor Store.''

What followed was a scene quirky enough to have qualified as a plot on TV's now-defunct ``Northern Exposure'' series.

The proprietor of the Willow Trading Post, Ken Eby, saw a train filled with tourists and sensed a business opportunity. Packing an armful of Willow T-shirts, he trudged across his lawn to the observation deck of the Princess rail car. He couldn't get on, and passengers couldn't get off, but they certainly could lean over the outdoor viewing platform and shove dollar bills at Ken. Which is just what they did: A buying frenzy resulted, in which passengers just had to have something that said ``Willow.'' Ken quickly sold out of T-shirts, at $15 a pop (the same price as at the trading post; he was eminently fair) and moved on to $7 ball caps. Then there were requests such as: ``Hey, Ken, can you sell me some cigarettes?'' and our man at the trading post became a familiar figure as he crossed and recrossed the lawn perhaps 30 times, filling orders and handing out free ``Willow Trading Post'' brochures and ink pens. (The ink-pen distribution didn't get very far; one grandmotherly type chose to hoard almost all of them.) Ken was rapidly becoming a folk hero.

There was no weeping in Willow. The Princess staff kept things upbeat by telling corny jokes, leading sing-alongs and quashing rumors: ``No, the tracks are not on fire. Yes, we will get to Anchorage . . . eventually. Everyone's safety is our prime concern.'' From the car's kitchen came complimentary raspberry silk pie and shrimp cocktail. And from a passing pickup truck, a man riding on the bed ``mooned'' the train passengers, leaving them somewhere between giggles and hysteria.

Finally, the buses arrived. A scheduled eight-hour trip from Denali National Park to Anchorage had already become a 12 1/2-hour journey, and now the buses had to take us the remaining 35 miles to Anchorage, passing through the fringes of the fire. With their emergency lights blinking, the buses made their way through heavy smoke; we could see trees aflame on either side of the road. We reached the Captain Cook Hotel at 2 a.m.

The experience was so impressive that several days later, during the cruise portion of the tour aboard the Crown Princess, passengers organized a ``Willow Experience Reunion'' in which anecdotes were swapped, Willow quizzes were held, and passengers with Willow T-shirts proudly posed for photos.

No one who experienced the detruction of the Big Lake fire will ever forget it. But we more fortunate ones who merely had to sit on a train will never forget the joys of Willow, Alaska, population 285.