Editor's note: For many, one of the holy grails in the National Park System is landing a coveted permit through the Denali Road Lottery. Eric Johnson was fortunate enough to win a permit in his first attempt, and so couldn't resist traveling from Louisiana to Alaska last month to drive the route. Here's his story.
There are 3,381 miles that separate my quaint and humid Baton Rouge neighborhood from the front door of Mount McKinley in Alaska's Interior. I have no doubt you can envision the stark contrast between the two, but let me give you a first-hand perspective.
The first scene is a short street, lined with magnolia trees, American flags, and the constant hum of insects. Pulling into the entrance of Denali National Park, you are surrounded by mountains, the most crisp air man has ever breathed, and the distant trickle of braided riverbeds. One might think it felt foreign to be at the other end of a continent, yet I have rarely felt so at home.
This journey began two years ago when I met my now-friend Tina as I rushed to get out of a campsite she had claimed in Yellowstone National Park. While my traveling partner and I scrambled to gather our gear, Tina shared about her own life growing up in Montana, photographing wildlife in her new home of Alaska and a cult classic among wanderlusters ' the Denali Road Lottery. Having never been to Alaska, I was intrigued. It took me another year to apply -- Spring 2014 -- with low expectations for success. Needless to say to you readers, I was selected to drive one of 400 vehicles allowed past the Savage River Checkpoint on September 12, 2014.
And so there we were that day at 6:19 a.m., with roughly 20 vehicles in front of us waiting to be let through the checkpoint. At last we pulled up to a young park ranger whose small figure was nearly being blown over as she reviewed the guidelines for the day.
"Do not go over 35 miles per hour. Oh! And, don't approach the wildlife. Oh! And, when you're going westbound PAST the visitor center, yield to oncoming traffic. Oh! And, have fun!"
Off we went, struggling to see in many areas where the sunlight had not reached.
For over 45 minutes there were no wildlife sightings and I felt irrationally fearful that my pilgrimage to the headquarters of North American wildlife viewing would be in vain.
Cue: brake lights. We all knew that this is a tell-tale sign of a sighting. So, my travel partner and I hopped out of the car and rushed the scene. As we did so, a massive bull moose walked up onto the park road and even more quickly than it appeared, scurried into the brush. While disappointing, at least my fears of a lifeless Denali were quieted.
From what I have read, the Igloo Creek Campground marks the unofficial boundary of grizzly country. Like clockwork, a few minutes after we passed mile marker 35 there was a large group of vehicles pulled over to see a sow and two cubs. Their beauty was only slightly obstructed by the fact that they were high on a cliffside, making details hard to distinguish.
It was a bit of a Grizzly Festival on September 12. Eleven by my count, but we heard of other travelers who saw 18. Some were barely a speck on the hills rising out of the tundra valleys. Others, much closer than the National Park Service's prescribed distance of 300 yards. It was entertaining to see how the Denali rangers, unaccustomed to people driving private vehicles, passive-aggressively handled the shortening distance between grizzlies and lusting photographers.
'Just as a point of reference, we are at about 150 yards right now'¦just'¦a reference point.'
Aside from a cornucopia of grizzled wonders, other highlights included a red fox on the hunt, spruce grouse, several moose (on subsequent days as well) and hundreds of truly awe-inspiring vistas. Wonder Lake and the Reflection Pond are divine even on mostly cloudy days.
It was a successful first journey to the Last Frontier for this traveler. Each morning was greeted with a sun that lit the tops of peaks and yellow-blazing aspens. Each evening was topped off with moose grazing on willows and Alaskan meals after dark.
Our final day was spent in Talkeenta, where we hopped on a flight over the Alaska Range and landed on Ruth Glacier. Of all the marvelous things I have sought to see in my life, nothing will compare with the peak of Mount McKinley towering over me as I stood, coldly, on that September afternoon.
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