I've crossed the river by ferry here many times. It is one of my fondest memories of growing up. Ferry rides were free in daylight, but I am sure there was a sign that said night crossings were 50 cents.
My dad knew the ferryman well enough to go fishing at the Vega Ferry. It was called that as after you crossed the river you were in the district of Vega. I recall once he borrowed the boat attached to it, though it's been so long most of the details are lost to time. I know we didn't stay out too long as the Athabasca was teeming with whitefish in those days. Catching the limit took only a few minutes.
They are, or at least were, a tasty fish. Dad took care of frying them as mom always said she couldn't cook fish. I never knew if she meant she couldn't do it the way dad liked it, or she simply had sense enough to see a break from cooking and took it.
It didn't matter. Dad caught them, cleaned them, and fried them, and we ate well.
A closer look at the ferry.