LOCALadk Magazine

LOCALadk 14 On most days, the Wanakena Footbridge (aka the swing bridge) doesn't announce itself. It simply waits. Slender, wooden, and a little bit mischievous — stretching across the Oswegatchie as if it has always been there. Visitors step onto its creaking planks and pause instinctively, feeling the gentle sway that reminds you you're suspended between two river- banks. People linger. They take photos. They cross and re-cross it for no reason other than the quiet pleasure of standing in the middle of the river with white water upstream and calm navigable water down river that flows into Cranberry Lake. To the community, it's more than a landmark; it's a companion, a ritual, a piece of daily life. Also known as "The Swing Bridge," this 171-foot suspension bridge was a practical solution long before it became beloved. The Rich Lumber Company built it more than a century ago, allowing workers living in town to reach the five mills on the far shore where lumber from the surrounding forests was turned into merchandise shipped across the country. In 1904, Wanakena was a bustling "Pioneer Village," complete with a train depot, electricity, a school, two hotels, a church, and even a bowling alley. The bridge was simply part of the infrastructure, a way to get from home to work and back again. But over time, as the mills closed and the town quieted, the bridge took on a different meaning. It became the thread that tied the community togeth- er, the place where neighbors stopped to talk, where children dared each other to jump on the planks just hard enough to make it bounce, where generations of Ranger School students passed over its walkway. It be- came the symbol of Wanakena itself — sturdy, quirky, and full of character. I fell in love with the little town and its bridge the first time I visited. Eventually I bought one of the old workers' houses for summer weekends. Before long, I was drawn into the community and its history, join- ing the Wanakena Historical Association (WHA) and later serving as its president. When I retired, I sold my house in the city and moved to Wanakena year-round. I couldn't imagine the town without the footbridge. And yet, in 2014, we nearly lost it. That winter was strange with wild temperature swings, freeze-thaw cycles, and ice-outs that sent thick slabs tumbling down the rapids. A massive ice jam formed upriver, growing higher with each thaw. When heavy rain arrived, the jam turned ominous. The whole town felt it. People checked the river constant- ly, watching the pressure build, hoping the ice might break apart slowly and move on. I was home when my friend Rick barreled down my driveway, bang- ing on my door shouting, "The bridge is going down — get your camera!" We jumped into his car and down the road toward the river. When we reached the bridge, it lay sideways across the ice. The jam had lifted the cables off one of the towers. Huge ice slabs pushed it forward and beneath the pile, forcing water over both riverbanks and carrying chunks of ice the size of rowboats. The river was in full fury. And yet the original 110 -year- old cables held. Bent, strained, dragged far from where they be- longed, but unbroken. For a while the decorative lights on the cables kept glowing. Even in collapse, the old bridge refused to give up. Neighbors gathered as if they were attending a funeral. Some wept. Others stood in stunned silence, staring at the twisted span lying across the ice. The bridge remained there until June, painful to look at day after day. Soon after, the Town of Fine held a meeting. We were told there were NO funds to rebuild — only to remove what remained. The room went quiet. The idea of Wanakena without its bridge felt unthinkable. Afterward, about fifteen of us from WHA gathered to ask the only question that mattered: what now? Andrew said, "Wanakena without its bridge is like Paris without the Eiffel Tower," and that settled it. We would rebuild. The Town borrowed $250,000, and WHA signed an agreement to pay it back — a daunting amount for a A Bridge Falls, a Town Rises By Allen Ditch The iconic Wanakena Footbridge in the midst of a destructive ice jam in 2014. Photo credit: Allen Ditch

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