TAKOTNA, Alaska — On Tuesday evenings, the thud of soft shoes echoes through the Takotna Community Center, a modest building that doubles as the town's voting precinct and basketball court. Here, in a community of roughly 50 people accessible mainly by small plane, local children and adults gather to learn reels and jigs from a woman who grew up competing in County Cork, Ireland.
Fiona O'Reilly, 34, arrived in Takotna in 2019 after marrying an Alaskan bush pilot she met during a work exchange in Anchorage. Within a year, she had persuaded the community center's board to let her install a plywood dance floor over the existing linoleum. What started as four students—her husband's niece and three curious neighbors—has grown into two weekly classes with 24 regular participants, roughly half the town's population.
"I thought I'd have to give up teaching entirely," O'Reilly said, adjusting the straps on her hard shoes after an intermediate class. "I never imagined there would be this appetite for it. But people here are hungry for something new, and they're not afraid to look foolish for the first few months."
From Skepticism to Enrollment
Takotna, located about 170 miles northwest of Anchorage along the Iditarod Trail, has no traffic lights, no restaurants, and no paved roads. Its economy revolves around subsistence hunting, seasonal tourism, and Iditarod checkpoint operations each March. When O'Reilly first posted flyers for Irish dance classes, several residents assumed it was a joke.
John Peterson, 52, a mechanic who now takes the adult beginner class with his 11-year-old daughter, was among the skeptics. "I'd seen Riverdance on DVD years ago," he said. "Didn't think it was something you'd learn in a town where half the buildings are on stilts." Peterson enrolled after his daughter begged him to join. Three years later, he can execute a competent light jig and has helped O'Reilly transport the portable dance floor by snowmachine when village crews need the community center for other events.
The logistics of maintaining an Irish dance program in interior Alaska require constant improvisation. O'Reilly orders shoes online and sizes students by video call with suppliers. The nearest certified Irish dance adjudicator lives in Fairbanks, a 45-minute flight that costs approximately $400 round-trip. For advanced students preparing for competition, O'Reilly records their steps and submits the footage to remote evaluation programs run by Irish dance organizations in Dublin and Boston.
More Than Steps
For many families, the classes have become a rare structured social activity in a place where organized recreation is scarce. The melting pot O'Reilly initially envisioned—locals connecting with an alien culture—has evolved into something more practical and mutual. Students teach her how to fillet salmon and read winter trail conditions; she teaches them hornpipes and slip jigs.
"People don't come because they're obsessed with Ireland," said Maya Thomas, 16, who has been O'Reilly's student since 2021 and hopes to compete at the regional level in Anchorage next spring. "They come because it's something to do together that isn't survival-based. But then you start caring about the history, the music, the whole thing."
That interest has generated modest spinoffs. Once a month, O'Reilly hosts an Irish music session at the Takotna Roadhouse, the town's only year-round lodging and gathering spot. Attendance ranges from six to fifteen people. Last winter, the local school asked her to deliver a three-week unit on Irish emigration and literature to its combined sixth-through-twelfth-grade classroom.
Looking Ahead
O'Reilly is now working to formalize a performance troupe that could travel to regional festivals in McGrath and Nenana, with Anchorage as a longer-term goal. She has applied for a small arts grant through the Alaska State Council on the Arts to cover costumes and travel subsidies for students who cannot afford them. Her classes remain free, supported by donations and occasional supplies from her family in Ireland.
"This isn't about preserving some pure Irish tradition in the wilderness," O'Reilly said. "It's about creating something that makes sense here. The steps are the same. Everything else is Takotna."
