Day 16 -- Denali National Park

Another day, another wicked-early wake-up call.

Sigh.

We woke up at 5 a.m. so we could be at the park’s Wilderness Access Center — or bus station — by 6:15 to catch the shuttle to the Eielson Visitor Center — an interpretive center and gallery at Mile 66 of Denali Park Road that, on clear days, offers amazing views of Denali and the Alaskan Range.

Denali Park Road (the only road in Denali National Park) is 92 miles long. Traffic is restricted to designated park buses after the first 15 miles. So anyone who wants to experience the park beyond Mile 15 — and have a chance of seeing The Mountain —  has to take a bus.

It’s not an expressway. After the first 15 miles, it’s not even paved. The slow-going buses make rest stops, and the drivers also pull over for scenic views and wildlife sightings. So a tour to Kantishna, at Mile 92, and back, takes 12 hours. We wanted to get to Eielson Visitor Center in time to snag 5 of the 11 available slots on a two-hour ranger-led alpine hike that started at noon, and we had to allow at least four hours to get there. That’s why we had to leave so early. 

At 6:15 this morning, rain was pouring down. The kids were, at best, nonplussed. But we didn’t hear a single complaint. 

We departed the Wilderness Access Center, near the park entrance, along with a group of 18 travelers from China who must have misunderstood the ticket agent, because they allowed only 5 hours for an 8-hour round-trip. They needed to be on a train that left the Denali station, near the entrance to the park, at 11:30 a.m. So our harried bus driver had to shepherd them off the bus around mile 30 and make sure they caught an outgoing shuttle that would get them to the train station with no time to spare.

(Mom: Our bus driver, Tony Arnold, graduated from Chula Vista High School in 1958. He remembers an exhibition football game against San Diego H.S.  in which CV got creamed, and was able to score only when SDHS sent in their third string.) 

The windows became covered with mud -- so much that we couldn't see out. We got to squeegee them at the rest stops.

At Mile 53, there's a bookstore and ranger station. It was as cold and wet as it looks here.

We arrived at the Eielson Visitor Center by about 10:30 a.m. It was still raining; temps were probably in the 40s; the wind was flogging us; and low clouds and fog meant Denali wasn’t even close to showing itself. Because of all this, we decided not to participate in the ranger-led hike at noon; so we spent four hours on the bus to Eielson Visitor Center; and then we got right back on the bus and spent four more hours getting back to the entrance of the park. 

I took this off the internet. This is what the view COULD be.

And this was our view today.

The rangers keep a pictorial journal in front of the windows. Today is Sunday, July 19.

It's out there somewhere.

The kids are posing in front of Denali.

Throughout the day, though, we spotted four grizzlies and a herd of caribou. And although we didn’t see the mountain, we did get a glimpse of this gorgeous, overwhelming landscape. I had the same sense at Yellowstone: That I am/we are/this bus is merely a speck in this vast, wild ecosystem. We are observers. And the Denali universe flourishes whether we are here to observe it or not.

Grizzly!

Because we didn’t stay for the hike at Eielson, we returned to the visitors center at the entrance to the park much earlier than we had anticipated. So we visited the park’s kennels, where they keep 50 Alaska Huskies for winter patrol trips into the park. 

We got to meet the dogs, then watched a sled-dog demonstration and listened to a ranger-led talk about the dogs and mushing. 

(I love that word so much: mushing. Say it with me: Mushing; rhymes with “rushing.” It’s hard for me to believe that it’s an actual word that Alaskans get to use, and I’m jealous. I wish I could work that word into my everyday vocabulary. Dog mushing is the official state sport of Alaska. How cool is that?)

For dinner, we headed 12 miles up the road to Healy and ate at the 49th State Brewery, a eclectic place where redneck meets hipster. The place is all moose antlers, taxidermy, camo and ironically bushy beards. After a long, cold, wet day, I face-planted into a cast iron skillet of mac and cheese. Feels good.