In May/June 2023, Jill and I toured Alaska by land and by sea. We traveled from Fairbanks to Whittier by motor coach and train and then sailed from Whittier to Vancouver aboard the Majestic Princess. We had a blast!
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our Cruisetour.
This story, part of a series, is about our memorable excursion into Denali National Park and Preserve on the Tundra Wilderness Tour.
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our Cruisetour.
This story, part of a series, is about our memorable excursion into Denali National Park and Preserve on the Tundra Wilderness Tour.
The ‘Tek,’ a Braided River
Denali National Park, Alaska (Wednesday, May 31, 2023) Last year, in early September, Jill and I embarked on a 12-day journey – make that, a 12-day adventure – north through Alaska from Seward to Fairbanks. I wrote a series of stories – the first was Up To Alaska! – about our memorable experiences and the oh-so-beautiful scenery we saw. We had a grand time!
Midway through that trip, we spent a couple of days at Denali National Park and Preserve.
Jill and I visited Denali’s Sled Dog Kennels, where we ‘met’ many of the sled dogs – they were so friendly, and they loved it when we stroked their fur – and got a lesson in mushing.
And we ventured into Denali National Park on the Tundra Wilderness Tour, where we ‘discovered’ a vast and rugged wilderness – over 6 million acres, about the size of Massachusetts – with abundant wildlife and imposing mountains. It was a dream come true for me, a bucket list destination that exceeded my expectations.
There was one mountain, in particular, that Jill and I had hoped to see – Deenaalee in the language of the Koyukon Athabascan people, which translates to ‘The Tall One.’ We knew it as Denali, the tallest mountain in North America – its summit is 20,310 feet above sea level! – and third highest of the ‘Seven Summits.’
Midway through that trip, we spent a couple of days at Denali National Park and Preserve.
Jill and I visited Denali’s Sled Dog Kennels, where we ‘met’ many of the sled dogs – they were so friendly, and they loved it when we stroked their fur – and got a lesson in mushing.
And we ventured into Denali National Park on the Tundra Wilderness Tour, where we ‘discovered’ a vast and rugged wilderness – over 6 million acres, about the size of Massachusetts – with abundant wildlife and imposing mountains. It was a dream come true for me, a bucket list destination that exceeded my expectations.
There was one mountain, in particular, that Jill and I had hoped to see – Deenaalee in the language of the Koyukon Athabascan people, which translates to ‘The Tall One.’ We knew it as Denali, the tallest mountain in North America – its summit is 20,310 feet above sea level! – and third highest of the ‘Seven Summits.’
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Denali is obviously spectacular, but don’t expect to see it – you might be disappointed! Denali is big enough to create its own weather, so even when you think it’s clear, you may never see it.
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I had read this review on Tripadvisor, and many others like it, before that trip, and I knew full well that only 30 percent of the people who visited the park caught a glimpse of Denali. Those lucky few were members of the ‘30 Percent Club.’ And that was what I aspired to – to be an honorary member of that austere group.
I liked our chances because the weather was clear – well, it was reasonably clear – and I would have bet dollars to donuts that we’d see Denali that day.
We didn’t, as The Tall One was obscured by low-hanging clouds.
Sure, I was disappointed, but there was more – much more – to the national park than Denali. And who was to say when we left that I wouldn’t be back one day.
Well, ‘one day’ came sooner than I thought.
A few months back, in February, Jill texted, “Hey dad, do you want another shot at seeing Denali?”
I knew it was a rhetorical question, and so there I was – there we were – on the 31st of May, the second full day of our 12-day Cruisetour, with another opportunity to see Denali.
Maybe, just maybe, Lady Luck would shine on me!
I liked our chances because the weather was clear – well, it was reasonably clear – and I would have bet dollars to donuts that we’d see Denali that day.
We didn’t, as The Tall One was obscured by low-hanging clouds.
Sure, I was disappointed, but there was more – much more – to the national park than Denali. And who was to say when we left that I wouldn’t be back one day.
Well, ‘one day’ came sooner than I thought.
A few months back, in February, Jill texted, “Hey dad, do you want another shot at seeing Denali?”
I knew it was a rhetorical question, and so there I was – there we were – on the 31st of May, the second full day of our 12-day Cruisetour, with another opportunity to see Denali.
Maybe, just maybe, Lady Luck would shine on me!
The sun rose at 4:19 a.m. and did not set until 11:48 that night. The first rays of daylight filtered into our room. No matter, though, as I was sound asleep, with a pillow over my head, until the alarm woke me at six.
I looked at Jill, who was already up and about.
“Have you been awake long?” I asked.
“A half hour, maybe,” she replied. “I actually had a good night’s sleep – much better than in Fairbanks.”
“Me, too,” I said with an eye on the drapes. “I’m no expert on these matters, but it looks like the drapes were mounted to hang flush against the window, and therefore did a far better job of blocking the light.”
And with a wink, I added, “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!”
I looked at Jill, who was already up and about.
“Have you been awake long?” I asked.
“A half hour, maybe,” she replied. “I actually had a good night’s sleep – much better than in Fairbanks.”
“Me, too,” I said with an eye on the drapes. “I’m no expert on these matters, but it looks like the drapes were mounted to hang flush against the window, and therefore did a far better job of blocking the light.”
And with a wink, I added, “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!”
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I got out of bed, went to the window, and drew back the drapes. I peered outside, and in that moment, I sensed I might not see Denali that day.
Still, I crossed my fingers, because I knew that the weather in the park – and especially the weather around Denali – was unpredictable and ever-changing. It might be sunny one moment and raining the next…or snowing. And in fact, we experienced all three. “Jill, take a look!” I said with a bit of excitement in my voice. “It snowed overnight.” |
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“Pretty,” she replied as we gazed at the snow-capped peaks, perhaps a few miles – or maybe a bit farther – from the lodge. “Those clouds, though, don’t bode well for seeing Denali.”
I tapped a few times on the screen of my phone to open my weather app.
“It’s 42 degrees, heading to a high of 46,” I said. “And while it isn’t raining at the moment, the forecast calls for rain off and on throughout the day, with snow at higher elevations.”
As we got ready, Jill said, “Be sure to layer up and bring your umbrella.”
It might have been my imagination, but I swear I heard my wife’s voice coming from my daughter’s mouth!
After breakfast, Jill and I boarded a bus – it was a repurposed school bus – for a five-hour, fully-narrated tour inside the national park. It was the same tour – the Tundra Wilderness Tour – that we took last year. We were welcomed aboard by Jen, our driver and narrator.
“Choose the bench you’d like,” she said to us, “but please sit together because we are sold out.”
Jill offered me the window seat on a two-person bench about six rows back and right of the center aisle. I gladly accepted her offer, as it would afford me a better opportunity to snap pics as we motored through the park.
Soon, there was a butt – er, person – in every seat, 60 passengers in total.
“Sit back and relax, folks,” Jen said over the loudspeaker. “We have a short ride to the entrance for the park.”
I glanced around the bus. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood.
And why not, I thought. We’re going to see incredible scenery and wildlife, and if we are lucky, we'll catch a glimpse of Denali.
“Jill, this is one tour I will never grow tired of,” I said as I recalled words I had written last year…
I tapped a few times on the screen of my phone to open my weather app.
“It’s 42 degrees, heading to a high of 46,” I said. “And while it isn’t raining at the moment, the forecast calls for rain off and on throughout the day, with snow at higher elevations.”
As we got ready, Jill said, “Be sure to layer up and bring your umbrella.”
It might have been my imagination, but I swear I heard my wife’s voice coming from my daughter’s mouth!
After breakfast, Jill and I boarded a bus – it was a repurposed school bus – for a five-hour, fully-narrated tour inside the national park. It was the same tour – the Tundra Wilderness Tour – that we took last year. We were welcomed aboard by Jen, our driver and narrator.
“Choose the bench you’d like,” she said to us, “but please sit together because we are sold out.”
Jill offered me the window seat on a two-person bench about six rows back and right of the center aisle. I gladly accepted her offer, as it would afford me a better opportunity to snap pics as we motored through the park.
Soon, there was a butt – er, person – in every seat, 60 passengers in total.
“Sit back and relax, folks,” Jen said over the loudspeaker. “We have a short ride to the entrance for the park.”
I glanced around the bus. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood.
And why not, I thought. We’re going to see incredible scenery and wildlife, and if we are lucky, we'll catch a glimpse of Denali.
“Jill, this is one tour I will never grow tired of,” I said as I recalled words I had written last year…
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Millions of acres of unspoiled wilderness from the forested lowlands to the granite spires of the Alaska Range. Iconic wildlife that included some of the largest mammals in North America. Braided streams and rivers with multi-threaded channels fed by snow melt off mountains and glaciers.
This was The Last Frontier. |
As it once was, it was again.
AND. I. WAS. STOKED!
Near the park entrance, Jen announced, “We’ll travel into the park on Denali Park Road. It took 15 years to build and was completed in 1938. It is not the primary access into the park – it is the only road in the park.”
Jen’s comment triggered a recent memory of a photo I came across as I prepped for our tour. The photo was taken in 1939…
A one-lane dirt road – it was Park Road – stretched back from the foreground, and was soon lost in a rolling landscape that led to the base of far-away mountains.
I closed my eyes to recall more of the photo.
Two gents stood side by side; one was a foreman with the Civilian Conservation Corps, the other was the Chief Ranger of the park. Next to them was a ‘classic’ car from the late 30s –possibly a Ford, or maybe it was an Old's.
And then, in my mind’s eye I saw…
The men and their car were framed by a large gateway built from stout logs, and there was a wooden sign – a long, wide plank, with the ends cut to look as if they had been shredded – that hung from the lowermost horizontal log.
That sign proclaimed, ‘GATEWAY TO MT. McKINLEY NATIONAL PARK.’
That one photo told a story of a time past, when Park Road was first opened to the public, and the park was still known by its original name.
To have been there at that moment, I thought…and then, my reverie was broken by Jen’s voice.
I opened ColorNote, a notepad app on my phone, to create a log as Jen talked. Not verbatim, mind you – just a handful of notes to jog my memory when I wrote this story.
Jen’s comment triggered a recent memory of a photo I came across as I prepped for our tour. The photo was taken in 1939…
A one-lane dirt road – it was Park Road – stretched back from the foreground, and was soon lost in a rolling landscape that led to the base of far-away mountains.
I closed my eyes to recall more of the photo.
Two gents stood side by side; one was a foreman with the Civilian Conservation Corps, the other was the Chief Ranger of the park. Next to them was a ‘classic’ car from the late 30s –possibly a Ford, or maybe it was an Old's.
And then, in my mind’s eye I saw…
The men and their car were framed by a large gateway built from stout logs, and there was a wooden sign – a long, wide plank, with the ends cut to look as if they had been shredded – that hung from the lowermost horizontal log.
That sign proclaimed, ‘GATEWAY TO MT. McKINLEY NATIONAL PARK.’
That one photo told a story of a time past, when Park Road was first opened to the public, and the park was still known by its original name.
To have been there at that moment, I thought…and then, my reverie was broken by Jen’s voice.
I opened ColorNote, a notepad app on my phone, to create a log as Jen talked. Not verbatim, mind you – just a handful of notes to jog my memory when I wrote this story.
Click Map to Enlarge
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“Park Road, which is 92 miles long, parallels the 600-mile Alaska Range. The first 15 miles, up to a ranger station above the Savage River, are a modern two-lane paved road. From that point on, the road is gravel – two lanes for 16 miles, and then one lane to the end. But we’re not going to the end today. Does anyone know why?”
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Jill and I looked at each other and smiled knowing smiles because we learned the reason when we toured Denali last year.
A couple of years back, there was a landslide at Pretty Rocks – the name given to the rock formation at that site – that closed Park Road near its midpoint. As a result, tour buses must turn back about 43 miles into the park. Park Road was supposed to reopen in 2025, but Jen told us that the date was recently pushed back to 2026.
I nudged Jill and said, “Let’s come back then so we can ride the full length of Park Road.”
Without hesitating, she replied, “You’re on…and I’ll hold you to it!”
“Your lodge sits at about 1,500 feet above sea level,” Jen told us. “The highest point on our tour – after we reach the tundra wilderness – is about 3,900 feet. Just to let you know, we might encounter snow at the higher elevation.”
And we did…and I LOVED it!
Jen was an excellent driver and an even better guide. She was friendly, knowledgeable, passionate, and possessed an eagle’s eye – a keen sense of sight – that allowed her to spot the wildlife all of us wanted to see.
A couple of miles up the road, Jen said, “I have a lot of information to share with you on our tour, but I promise there will be long stretches of silence so you can enjoy the beautiful scenery along the way.”
Jill giggled.
“What’s so funny?” I whispered to her.
“That’s what our driver, Phil, said last year,” she quietly answered.
I thought back. Jill was right.
“Well, the same person must have trained both…or they were given a well-written script to study,” I said.
I suspected the latter, because many of the things Jen shared with us, and the way she shared them, were reminiscent of Phil’s narration.
“The story of Denali National Park began with a man named Charles Sheldon,” Jen remarked. “He was a gentleman hunter turned conservationist who came to this area in 1906 to study Dall sheep, a species native to Alaska and Canada.
“Sheldon quickly recognized that this wilderness, with its wildlife, must be preserved as it was for future generations. He lobbied Congress for more than a decade and in 1917, Congress created Mount McKinley National Park.”
A moment later, Jen slowed the bus.
A couple of years back, there was a landslide at Pretty Rocks – the name given to the rock formation at that site – that closed Park Road near its midpoint. As a result, tour buses must turn back about 43 miles into the park. Park Road was supposed to reopen in 2025, but Jen told us that the date was recently pushed back to 2026.
I nudged Jill and said, “Let’s come back then so we can ride the full length of Park Road.”
Without hesitating, she replied, “You’re on…and I’ll hold you to it!”
“Your lodge sits at about 1,500 feet above sea level,” Jen told us. “The highest point on our tour – after we reach the tundra wilderness – is about 3,900 feet. Just to let you know, we might encounter snow at the higher elevation.”
And we did…and I LOVED it!
Jen was an excellent driver and an even better guide. She was friendly, knowledgeable, passionate, and possessed an eagle’s eye – a keen sense of sight – that allowed her to spot the wildlife all of us wanted to see.
A couple of miles up the road, Jen said, “I have a lot of information to share with you on our tour, but I promise there will be long stretches of silence so you can enjoy the beautiful scenery along the way.”
Jill giggled.
“What’s so funny?” I whispered to her.
“That’s what our driver, Phil, said last year,” she quietly answered.
I thought back. Jill was right.
“Well, the same person must have trained both…or they were given a well-written script to study,” I said.
I suspected the latter, because many of the things Jen shared with us, and the way she shared them, were reminiscent of Phil’s narration.
“The story of Denali National Park began with a man named Charles Sheldon,” Jen remarked. “He was a gentleman hunter turned conservationist who came to this area in 1906 to study Dall sheep, a species native to Alaska and Canada.
“Sheldon quickly recognized that this wilderness, with its wildlife, must be preserved as it was for future generations. He lobbied Congress for more than a decade and in 1917, Congress created Mount McKinley National Park.”
A moment later, Jen slowed the bus.
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“There’s a caribou ahead on the right,” she said as she slowed and then stopped the bus about thirty feet back. Its head, topped by V-shaped antlers, dipped as it grazed on the scrub off the side of the road.
Someone asked if it was male or female. “I can’t say for certain because both sexes have antlers, but given its smaller size, its likely a female.” To gain a better view, the passengers seated on the left side crowded those of us who sat on the right side. Turnabout was fair play later on the tour! “Can anyone tell me the difference between a reindeer and a caribou?” Jen asked. Again, Jill and I shot knowing looks at one another, as Phil covered this last year. In North America, the same animal was called a reindeer if it was domesticated and a caribou if it was wild. |
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When Jen restarted the bus, she said, “The caribou is one of the ‘Big Five’ animals that people come here to see. The other four are moose, grizzly bears, Dall sheep, and wolves. If we’re lucky, you’ll see all five today.”
SPOILER ALERT ONE
We saw four of the Big Five.
We saw four of the Big Five.
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Jen fell silent, and we drove the next few miles with just the chatter from passengers, punctuated by an occasional ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ as folks gawked at the rugged landscape.
I thought, This is the same road we drove last year, but the landscape looks different. I chewed on that thought for a moment before I realized why: The color palette appeared subdued under an overcast sky. I saw the same reds and yellows and greens in the foliage that blanketed the land, but the colors were not as bright or as brilliant as I remembered them on a sunnier day. Still, I was in awe of the beauty within the park. |
“There were once two parks – Mount McKinley National Park, named for our 25th president, and Denali National Monument,” said Jen. “In 1980, they were combined and renamed Denali National Park and Preserve, and thirty-five years later, in 2015, Mount McKinley was renamed Denali.”
We made a brief stop at the ranger station, where the ranger on duty boarded our bus to share a few words about the park.
“Jill, she’s the same ranger we saw last year!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I replied, as I showed her the photo on my phone I had taken last year.
Yep…as it once was, it was again...even in the smallest details.
We started up an incline in the road as we began the climb to 3,900 feet.
“Denali is located about 80 miles to the northwest,” Jen announced over the loudspeaker. “There are three spots up ahead – at mile markers 17, 19, and 39 – where we might catch a glimpse of Denali. I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but with this weather…”, I heard her say before I tuned her out so I didn’t have to hear the words I knew were coming.
We made a brief stop at the ranger station, where the ranger on duty boarded our bus to share a few words about the park.
“Jill, she’s the same ranger we saw last year!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I replied, as I showed her the photo on my phone I had taken last year.
Yep…as it once was, it was again...even in the smallest details.
We started up an incline in the road as we began the climb to 3,900 feet.
“Denali is located about 80 miles to the northwest,” Jen announced over the loudspeaker. “There are three spots up ahead – at mile markers 17, 19, and 39 – where we might catch a glimpse of Denali. I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but with this weather…”, I heard her say before I tuned her out so I didn’t have to hear the words I knew were coming.
SPOILER ALERT TWO
Blame it on the weather (again), but Lady Luck did not shine on me.
I did not see The Tall One, Denali.
C’est la vie!
Blame it on the weather (again), but Lady Luck did not shine on me.
I did not see The Tall One, Denali.
C’est la vie!
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An instant later, I became aware of excited chatter.
There was a moose to our left (the second of the Big Five we saw), and further up the road was a willow ptarmigan to our right. Jen stopped the bus both times so we could take pictures. The moose was a fair distance from the bus – too far for a great picture with the camera on my phone – but I saw that it sported antlers (can you see them in the photo at the right?), which meant it was a bull rather than a cow. |
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The ptarmigan – every time I saw this bird, I wanted to call it a ‘Parmesan,’ like the cheese! – Jen told us, is a member of the pheasant family.
“Can you eat it?” someone asked. “It’s an eater,” she replied. “The meat is flavorful but a bit gamey. By the way, the willow ptarmigan is our state bird.” |
Soon, we reached a rest stop near mile marker 30 – an opportunity to use the bathrooms and stretch our legs. It was also a Kodak moment from an observation deck that overlooked the Teklanika River.
The Teklanika was unlike any river I had seen. Instead of an expanse of water from one riverbank to the other, it was a network of small streams along the riverbed itself.
The Teklanika was unlike any river I had seen. Instead of an expanse of water from one riverbank to the other, it was a network of small streams along the riverbed itself.
That evening, I Googled the river to learn more about it...
The ‘Tek,’ as it is sometimes called, flowed 91 miles northward from the Cantwell Glacier. The water carried pulverized rock, gravel, and sediment, which it deposited as small, temporary islands – they’re known as ‘braid bars’ – on the riverbed. The braid bars, which can change from day to day, created a network of small streams, or channels, which were also ever-changing. The Tek is what is known as a ‘braided river.’
The ‘Tek,’ as it is sometimes called, flowed 91 miles northward from the Cantwell Glacier. The water carried pulverized rock, gravel, and sediment, which it deposited as small, temporary islands – they’re known as ‘braid bars’ – on the riverbed. The braid bars, which can change from day to day, created a network of small streams, or channels, which were also ever-changing. The Tek is what is known as a ‘braided river.’
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Fascinating, I thought, and something else I never learned in school!
We stopped at the same rest stop on the way back. The weather had improved a bit – well, there were still lots of clouds, but there was also some blue sky, and the sunlight painted the river and mountains with somewhat brighter colors. |
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“All aboard,” Jen said.
Up, up, up we went on Park Road, and as we did, the temperature dropped and a drizzle turned to intermittent snow.
We reached the ‘tree line’ about two and a half hours into our tour.
Jen said, “The tree line is the natural demarcation between the boreal forest filled with deciduous trees and conifers – poplar, aspen, spruce, and others – and the tundra, which is a cold, desert-like environment with few trees that sits atop a vast field of permafrost.
“Our tree line, which is about 3,000 to 3,500 feet above sea level, is much lower than in other parts of the world because we are further north – closer to the north pole – where it is too cold at lower elevations for trees to survive a winter.”
I was impressed by Jen’s command of facts, and her ability to share those facts in a way I understood.
Someone asked about the permafrost.
“Its soil and rock that remains at or below the freezing point – 32 degrees Fahrenheit – for at least two consecutive years,” Jen answered. “Permafrost covers about 45% of the park’s landscape.”
The landscape above the tree line was spectacular, especially the mountains that were sprinkled with fresh snow.
Up, up, up we went on Park Road, and as we did, the temperature dropped and a drizzle turned to intermittent snow.
We reached the ‘tree line’ about two and a half hours into our tour.
Jen said, “The tree line is the natural demarcation between the boreal forest filled with deciduous trees and conifers – poplar, aspen, spruce, and others – and the tundra, which is a cold, desert-like environment with few trees that sits atop a vast field of permafrost.
“Our tree line, which is about 3,000 to 3,500 feet above sea level, is much lower than in other parts of the world because we are further north – closer to the north pole – where it is too cold at lower elevations for trees to survive a winter.”
I was impressed by Jen’s command of facts, and her ability to share those facts in a way I understood.
Someone asked about the permafrost.
“Its soil and rock that remains at or below the freezing point – 32 degrees Fahrenheit – for at least two consecutive years,” Jen answered. “Permafrost covers about 45% of the park’s landscape.”
The landscape above the tree line was spectacular, especially the mountains that were sprinkled with fresh snow.
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Jen stopped the bus at the turnaround point – another opportunity to stretch our legs and take a few more photos, including this selfie.
The return trip was, for the most part, uneventful, and it took less time because we made fewer stops. We did, however, see two more of the Big Five – and that WAS special.
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We almost missed the grizzly bear, which came out of the trees at the side of the road next to our slow-moving bus. Someone behind me yelled, “Bear!” I opened the window and leaned out after Jen stopped, and snapped this pic of the bear’s derrière as it lumbered down the road on all fours.
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“This is as close as I ever want to be to a grizzly in the wild,” I said to Jill.
And with a wink, she answered, “And in a bus, too.”
We both chuckled.
The bus was equipped with a roof-mounted camera that sported a zoom lens and could rotate 360 degrees. Jen was adept at zeroing in on far away animals, which she then displayed on video monitors that hung from the ceiling of the bus every few rows. She was about to put that camera to good use, again.
As we made our way back, Jen told us to look for Dall sheep along the ridges and slopes of the mountains we passed. None of the passengers spotted any…but Jen did.
“There’s a small herd of sheep on the slope at 9 o’clock,” she announced over the loudspeaker. “Let’s see if I can find them with my camera,” she added when she stopped the bus.
I looked at the mountain to the left of the bus through a pair of cheap binoculars I pulled from my backpack. I thought I saw a few white dots – Dall sheep are white – against the rocky slope, but I wasn’t certain.
And with a wink, she answered, “And in a bus, too.”
We both chuckled.
The bus was equipped with a roof-mounted camera that sported a zoom lens and could rotate 360 degrees. Jen was adept at zeroing in on far away animals, which she then displayed on video monitors that hung from the ceiling of the bus every few rows. She was about to put that camera to good use, again.
As we made our way back, Jen told us to look for Dall sheep along the ridges and slopes of the mountains we passed. None of the passengers spotted any…but Jen did.
“There’s a small herd of sheep on the slope at 9 o’clock,” she announced over the loudspeaker. “Let’s see if I can find them with my camera,” she added when she stopped the bus.
I looked at the mountain to the left of the bus through a pair of cheap binoculars I pulled from my backpack. I thought I saw a few white dots – Dall sheep are white – against the rocky slope, but I wasn’t certain.
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Soon, Jen had one of the sheep displayed on the monitor, and as quick as a cat, I snapped this photo. The image was blurry, but it was unmistakable. It was a Dall sheep.
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We never saw a wolf, but four out of five (of the Big Five) ain’t bad in my book!
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There was one more animal we added to our list of ‘wildlife seen’ – a beaver that ambled along the side of the road, seemingly oblivious to the bus.
“How’d you like to cuddle that?” Jill asked. Aah…another rhetorical question. I just smiled. |
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Jen pulled up in the front of the lodge at half past one – a little more than five hours from the time we left that morning.
Was I disappointed that I did not see Denali…AGAIN? Yes. But my disappointment was overshadowed with the elation I felt at having spent five glorious hours inside THE MOST INCREDIBLE park I have ever visited.
As I said near the outset of my story, I will never grow tired of visiting Denali National Park and Preserve.
And who knows. If Jill holds me to my promise, I’ll have another shot at seeing The Tall One in 2026!
Click to read my next story, Four-Wheeling in Healy - an outdoor experience that was a first for me.
Was I disappointed that I did not see Denali…AGAIN? Yes. But my disappointment was overshadowed with the elation I felt at having spent five glorious hours inside THE MOST INCREDIBLE park I have ever visited.
As I said near the outset of my story, I will never grow tired of visiting Denali National Park and Preserve.
And who knows. If Jill holds me to my promise, I’ll have another shot at seeing The Tall One in 2026!
Click to read my next story, Four-Wheeling in Healy - an outdoor experience that was a first for me.