denali seen and unseen
this is such a tease of how big denali really is. whenever i can't see her, i wonder, 'is that her?' when i do see her, there is no question.
Some things have to be seen to be believed. And some have to be believed to be seen.
Denali might be a little bit of both. Or maybe even this whole journey to Alaska. We bought a house, sight unseen, which I know. You wouldn't dare. I never thought I would either. I also didn't imagine myself living in Alaska but here we are.
My first Denali sighting happened before we moved into our house. Before we even saw the insides of our house.
I gasped as I made a left hand turn out of our neighborhood. Directly in front of me was The Mountain. Even from from a five hour distance, her grandeur was undeniable.
Waiting for our scheduled showing wasn't going to happen. I had to see the neighborhood in real time, not just Google Earth's 360 tour from 2011. I liked what I saw. A lot. But seeing Denali on the drive home gave me the chills, the kind that means you know you're in for something good.
3 or 5 weeks later we moved in and quickly got caught up in the goings-on of our household. I didn't see Denali, or if i did, I didn't notice. I began to wonder if my memory of her was exaggerated by desire, a byproduct of too much time spent in transit, wanting more than anything to be home in our home.
But Denali (the native name for the highest mountain peak in North America) doesn't get her moniker -- the Great One -- for nothing. She is as elusive as she is great, and that fact only adds to her mystique. I didn't see her again until three weeks after we'd moved in -- some 8 weeks after that first sighting -- so often is she cloaked in clouds. And I knew then my original impression wasn't mistaken.
Denali National Park is also a bit tricky to traverse, I discovered accidentally on Twitter. Erin Kirkland is the author of Alaska on the Go: Exploring the 49th State with Children. @AKonthego was delighting in the fact that one of her readers had gifted her a much-coveted Denali National Park Road Lottery Pass. I tweeted to her: "I have no idea what a road pass is, but congrats!" She laughed and gave a quick explanation, enough to whet my appetite.
Denali National Park has one main road spanning 90 miles through its 6 million acres. Tourists are typically allowed to drive only the first 15 miles, and busses transport visitors along the rest of the dusty, windy, gravel road. In theory, you can get on and off the bus at any time, and flag a bus to pick you up along the road. For four days after Labor Day, the road opens for a very limited number of Road Lottery winners, with no guarantee an early snow won't shut the road down and nullify the passes. I know folks who have entered the lottery--unsuccessfully--for years. The applications for Road Lottery permits begins in May.
Clearly this wasn't going to happen for us any time soon.
A week or so later, my husband casually asked if I'd be interested in a Road Lottery Pass for Denali. You can imagine my response. This pass was basically the same as a Road Lottery Pass, minus ever entering the lottery. It was a Military Appreciation Day pass at the end of the four lottery days with the same access to the entire park road. Julius was lucky enough to land one of the limited passes available. He was not lucky enough to get the day off, a decision made a mere two hours before we were to depart.
I couldn't not go. Reservations were made. Hearts were set. Lenses were rented.
The oh so coveted Denali Road Lottery pass!
I let go of the landscape shots of my dreams and returned the rented lens, because being down one parent meant I’d be doing all the driving much less photography. I packed up three days worth of provisions. The boys and I hopped in our own Denali and drove the five+ hours on a rainy Monday night. There were just the teeniest remnants of sunlight left in the night sky when I rolled into the hotel parking lot. It was 10pm. The boys were still awake. I feared the worst. But they were caught up in the happy adventure of it all.
A good night's sleep trumps good light when my kids are involved so we got a late start in the morning. I'd read the drive could take eleven hours but I couldn't fathom the math of ninety miles there and ninety miles back taking eleven hours.
FRIENDS, IT TOOK ELEVEN HOURS.
And as advertised, there were no cafes, no restaurants, no food services along the way. It was eery to be at lookouts and have them entirely to ourselves. But did I mention no food stops?
Yep. Eleven hours in and out of a car (mostly in) with two squirmy little beings aged 5 and 3. Even on our 21 day drive to Alaska, we never drove more than six, seven hours at the absolute max in one day.
We were road weary, but road warriors. Polite road warriors. The rules state that for the last length of the road, incoming traffic must STOP and YIELD for outgoing traffic. So I did, and looked forward to being afforded the same courtesy on my way out.
I wasn't, which blew my mind a little, but it only mattered on the scary parts. The parts where the outgoing traffic was on the outer edge of the narrow gravel mountain pass with no guard rails and a very very very steep drop. The first boy to whine about still being in the car was met with, "Oh yeah? Well I'm tired of driving!" Nobody whined after that.
I'd packed three days worth of provisions which is to say I thought I overpacked on the food front but I'd read there was no other food or drink (save a very rare water fountain) available on the route. Still, we were down to our very last crumbs and last drops in the last hour. And that's when we saw the biggest, brownest bear I've seen to date. And it was close. Cars were not moving any time soon. A ranger ambled toward the bear by foot. We scored quite a good look at its rear end. We could have seen more of that bear but we were running on fumes and it was high time for us to go. Did I mention we'd already seen handfuls of bears, a pair of moose, a caribou herd, and lots and lots of dall sheep? Only a close up of a bear's derriere could have topped all that. And boy did it. Somebody yelled, “BEAR BUTT!” and we all started deliriously slap happy laughing crying. As soon as the laughter started to peter out, somebody else would shout, “BEAR BUTT!!” and off we’d go again. We laughed and laughed and laughed until we cried about that bear’s butt -- because potty humor is all my boys' current rage -- ALL through dinner and right up to the moment our heads hit the pillows. And then we were all faster than fast asleep.
Denali may or may not have been hiding behind these clouds.
I think I started this post talking about seeing or not seeing Denali. True story: we drove five hours to Denali National Park and then eleven hours in the park the next day, me, I did, with a three and five year old and we were DENIED. Denali played coy with us the day of our Road Pass visit to Denali National Park. She flirted and teased but did not reveal her uppermost parts. Turns out my boys were more interested in bear butts anyway, and as silver linings would have it, we still saw the lovely Denali regularly from our very own neighborhood five hours away.
If you’re into torture, go ahead and google Denali from Stony Hill Overlook.
Bottom line, if you are lucky enough to win the lottery or otherwise get your hands on a Denali NP road lottery pass, yes, you should go. Does this mean you will see Denali? No. Should you go anyway? Yes. One hundred times yes.