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| Denali National Park, Alaska |
My friend Nora and her husband Frank went on a
memorable trip to Alaska in August, 1996. Nora recalled the trip in a recent
essay she wrote for Kendalights, a literary magazine published by the retirement
community where she lives in New Hampshire. She has graciously given me
permission to reprint it for readers of The Intrepid Tourist. Nora and Frank's trip brought back memories of a similar trip to Alaska that Art and I took in 2002. Unfortunately, the photos of Nora's trip were lost when her
computer crashed. I have used
a few of our photos as a substitute to illustrate her report.
My husband Frank loves to travel and spends a lot of
time designing the perfect trips for us. In 1996 both of us were still working,
Frank as an orthodontist, I as a school principal. We had arranged for a
two-week vacation as Frank planned our trip to Alaska.
On August 1st, Frank suggested that I
pack warm clothes and hiking boots. “Won’t I need a few dresses for dinner on
the boat?” I asked. “No, no boat. I’ve designed a different trip. We’re going
to see the real Alaska,” he said.
I always thought the perfect vacation involved sand
and warm weather. Ideally, the sand would be on the coast of New Jersey, and
there would be excellent restaurants within walking distance of our shore-front
house. Not this time.
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| Denali. Susan Butcher was the first musher to summit Denali (Mount McKinley) with her dogsled. |
We fly to Fairbanks. It feels like a frontier town,
a working guys’ town. We spend the night in a modest motel. The next morning
Frank leads me to the Chena River where we board a paddle steamer. There are
lots of tourists on board. We paddle and steam along the river noting the dense
woods on either side. Suddenly eight dogs emerge from the woods, pulling a
sled. A young woman is driving. Her name is Susan Butcher. She tells us that she
has raced with her dog team in the 1,150-mile Iditarod and won four times.
Susan talks about her training methods with her dogs, which are year-long. Susan
and her husband train dogs at their kennel, Trail Breakers, near Fairbanks. She is
gracious and answers all the questions asked by the passengers. A few years
after this, I read her obituary in the New York Times. She had died of leukemia
at age 51 after a heroic battle.
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| Entrance to Denali National Park. Private cars are not allowed inside the park. The only way to see the park is
on an organized bus tour. |
The paddle boat cruises back to Fairbanks. We board
a train the following morning. Frank recommends that I wear my hiking boots for
the two-hour ride on the Alaska Railroad. We arrive at a small station and find
buses waiting for us. Frank points me and my suitcase to the bus that says
North Face Lodge. As we board, the driver says, “We’ll be traveling 98 miles into
the park to the lodge. That is farther than any of the other buses go.
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| On the bus to North Face Lodge |
North Face Lodge is very old and has the only
sleeping accommodations in the park. It has 15 rooms and no plan to expand.
[Note: Since 1996 North Face Lodge has expanded to a second site but it is still small.] The
lodge is full. There are four industrialist and their wives from Milan, Italy.
There are serious photographers and other couples who like adventure.
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| Blueberries and small plants are typical of the tundra |
After lunch we break up into groups for hiking.
Frank opts for a long, challenging hike. I choose the least strenuous over the
tundra. It is springy underfoot because it rests on permafrost. The vegetation is
composed of dwarf shrubs, sedges, grasses, mosses, lichens and rare trees. You
never go out without a guide. There are 350 grizzly bears in the park. The wolf
population is smaller, only 100. Earlier, from the bus window, we saw a bear
crossing the road. On my leisurely walk we see only a badger. His size
surprises me—he’s bigger than I expected.
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| Hiking in Denali |
The next day we choose to stay together on a
five-mile hike through the park with a guide. About twelve people are in our
group. The Italian wives all have very chic hiking outfits. My outfit might be
described as utilitarian. Our hike takes us to the Nenana River. It has
creamy-colored water because its source is the Nenana Glacier. We take off our
boots and socks and run across this frigid river. As we are hiking down toward
the lodge, Frank and the guide spot a large, male grizzly heading in our direction.
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| Grizzly bear |
The guide says, “Okay now, I want you all to stand
as close together as you can. We need to look formidable to the grizzly.” We follow
his directions immediately. The large, brown grizzly is known to the guide. He
is about 100 yards from us, running fast, as though on a mission. He has no
interest in us.
The lodge, the people, and the guided hikes are so
interesting that we choose to stay a few more nights. One thing we have not
seen, due to fog and mist, is Denali, at 20,310 feet, the highest mountain in
North America. The next day I hear excited voices outside. “Guarda! Guarda! C’e
la montagna!”
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| Denali viewed from Mirror Lake |
I go out in the courtyard to see what is happening.
The Italians point toward the mountain. The fog has lifted, and we now see the majestic
mountain. It is so near to us that it takes my breath away. We are all laughing
and congratulating one another.
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| A flight around Denali |
That evening Frank takes a flight in a small plane
around the top of the mountain. I choose not to fly. My brother, who is a Navy
pilot, has warned me off small planes and high mountains.
Early in the morning of the fifth day we leave North
Face Lodge. The bus has not gone far before we stop—the road is blocked by a
mama grizzly and her two cubs. She stands on her hind legs and watches the bus
and us. She must be eight feet tall. After a few minutes she signals to the
cubs, and they go off into a nearby field where we see caribou grazing.
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| Caribou |
This is what Frank meant by the “real Alaska” I
think to myself.
Look for the second half of Nora's report next week.
