TANANA—A new road connects the Alaska highway system to this Yukon River village. Almost.

The one-lane road to Tanana, built for slow speeds and limited traffic, comes with an asterisk, as it ends 6 miles upstream from the village on the other side of the river.

The speed limit is posted at 25 mph, and I can attest after driving to its end and back Monday from Fairbanks, a round-trip of 400 miles, those who attempt to go 35-40 mph will be putting lives at risk. A one-lane road open to two-way traffic, even with dozens of places to pull off, is not for people in a hurry.

The shoulders are steep and unforgiving and there are many blind corners on what often seems more like a 34-mile driveway than a highway, winding through spruce, birch and aspen trees.

It begins on the Elliott Highway at Manley Hot Springs and follows an old road about 15 miles before reaching the new construction zone. The village has plans to build an ice road again this winter to connect to the highway and harvest trees cut as part of the road clearing.

Tanana has installed advanced wood-burning systems for its school and other public buildings that has greatly reduced its dependence on diesel.

The road passes through beautiful territory and is just wide enough that passenger cars and small trucks headed in opposite directions can squeeze by each other at a crawl, but not in all areas. It joins the Taylor, Steese and Dalton highways as those with Yukon River connections.

The politics of this is marked by conflicting desires. Some residents of Tanana are thrilled about the prospect of better access to Fairbanks and the road system, which could reduce the cost of living, but others warn the road will lead to more people trespassing on village corporation lands.

Speaking at the dedication Monday, Curtis Sommer, vice chair of the tribal council, said he was among those who opposed the road, but a majority of the council disagreed with him.

He said he expects the road will lead to lower prices for fuel, housing materials and a chance for economic development.

"And at the same time, too, we have to keep on watch for the people who will come in and expect to squat on the land, expect to be able to park and take the four-wheelers off their trucks and take off into the wilderness," he said. "This highway passes very close to our traditional hunting, berry-picking lands."

Hunters and fishermen who may be tempted to use the road as an access point for Yukon River travel will discover the state has provided no parking at the end of the road, just a place to turn around. In exchange for getting an easement across village corporation land, the state agreed with the parking limits. Along the road, all the pullouts are designated "emergency parking only."

Along with others who drove to the end of the road for the dedication, I had to park near the river where I was not allowed to park.

I understand the fear of villagers about being overrun by people in trucks and riverboats and trespassers, but better public access to the river needs to be provided because this road was built with nearly $14 million in state money. It's a tricky balancing act that requires another look by Gov. Bill Walker's administration.

The possibility the village corporation may allow people to park near the river on its land for a fee doesn't relieve the state of its responsibility of allowing public access.

A contingent of about 20 transportation officials, legislators and members of the media drove the road Monday, culminating in a dedication ceremony—complete with the cutting of a ribbon made of orange survey tape—and traveled in riverboats to Tanana. Several children from the Tanana school were on hand with their parents to perform a Native dance and welcome the visitors.

It was a warm, sunny day after weeks of rain, with the river still running high. A big pile of cut-to-length driftwood for sale in Tanana featured this seasonal advice: "Hurry. Winter is coming."

The project, built with $13.7 million in state funds to avoid federal highway safety and construction standards, is a throwback to the old days of road building in Alaska, when it was common to start with a rough trail and improve it as time passed and money became available. It's unlikely this road will see any significant upgrades in the future, given the competing demands for transportation dollars.

"It's what we're calling a pioneer road," said Ryan Anderson, northern region director of the state Department of Transportation and Public Facilities. Minus the culverts and bridges, the cost was about $300,000 to $400,000 a mile, he said. It would be double or triple that amount to meet federal standards.

The project is also a throwback to the days of high oil prices and oil tax revenue and a remnant of the long-held dream of many Alaska business boosters for a road to Nome.

In 2008, then-Rep. Mike Kelly said the increase in oil money meant the state should set aside the money to build a road to Nome and made this prediction: "In 2014, I see the new Nome road departing Interior Alaska as it stretches 500 miles to our neighbors in Western Alaska."

Former Gov. Sarah Palin had ordered an access study for Western Alaska that put the cost of a road to Nome at up to $2.7 billion, about $6 million per mile.

In the end, former Gov. Sean Parnell talked about mineral development and settled on the far less costly idea of a road to Tanana, "the first segment identified in the Western Alaska Access Study."

Funded at a time when the state was willing to spend millions on every idea that came in the door, this project would not be funded today. Still, backers of the road will try to get 5-6 miles of road built on the north side of the river and acquire a barge or small ferry to take the "almost" out of the road to Tanana.