Denali Park: Chance Encounters, Huskies, The Bates Motel, and Sunshine

None of us were happy to be awake on a cloudy Monday morning. Eventually, the promise of coffee and oatmeal coaxed me from bed. We broke down camp and headed for the bear can. Brenna brewed up some water, Rachel prepped the coffee, and I hunted down some fresh blueberries for our oatmeal. I could get used to fresh fruit on a backpacking trip!

They put our "blueberries and cream" oatmeal to shame.

Civilization must be near, there's cell service! Rachel is sad her coffee cup is so small. Brenna loves Instagram.

After our miserable night hiking in the rain, hunting for a campsite at midnight, and not enough sleep, things could only get better from here, right? Thankfully they did or I’m sure one of us would have had a meltdown (probably me first).

Instead of retracing our steps the nine miles back from which we came last night, we decided to hike the two miles to the Parks Highway and either hitchhike or catch a park shuttle back to our car. Matt and I had done this trail on our first trip to Denali eight years ago and I remembered that a nearby lodge had some sort of shuttle. We decided to risk the longer walk and headed for the swanky little oasis of civilization named the Denali ParkVillage.

The three of us smelly, muddy hikers weaved our way through groups of squeaky clean tourists as we headed to the front desk. The shuttle was free and would arrive in just twenty minutes! Perfect! Our luck was already turning around!

Since we felt out of place, we headed back outside. Rachel’s shoulder was still hurting so Brenna hooked her up with some pain meds, calling them drugs a little too loudly. While I was saying something about how maybe we shouldn’t talk too loudly about that, the woman waiting on the bench next to us said, “Oh honey, I grew up in the 60’s, it’s fine”. Our drug selection wasn’t that kind of drug, but it got Brenna to make small talk with the woman, starting with the “Where are you from?” question almost all travelers ask one another.

“Michigan,” the woman replied in a very Yooper accent that piqued my interest. I asked her what town she was from and was surprised that it was the same one where I grew up. We talked some more as she asked what school I went to and if I knew Mrs. Moore, who I of course knew as Madame Moore, my French teacher. 

I thought she was asking me to find a common person between us, so I was surprised when the lady said one of my favorite high school teachers was traveling with her and she was right inside! What a small (and very cool) world! I still get goosebumps thinking about it. What are the odds? We probably wouldn't have crossed paths at all if we had gotten a place in the campground the night before.

I ended up getting my degree in French so I guess that means I loved her class a little. :)

Once we were reunited with our car and were free of our packs, we headed into the park. The first fifteen miles of the Denali Park Road are open to private vehicles (the other 75 miles are by bus) so we decided to go there and hike along the Savage River. The sun had finally come out enough to revive our spirits. On our way there, we stopped to pay a visit to the canine park rangers.

In the winter, park rangers patrol via dogsled. Every time I visit, I take time to stop and pet the huskies. Brenna spent most of her time snuggled up next to Solace, who seemed to melt into her lap. We considered what would happen if we decided to “take Solace” (see what I did there? Hehe.) but assumed we couldn’t get very far without someone noticing.

We managed to snag one of the few remaining parking spots at Savage River and had some lunch before dozing off in the car.

 

Revived after our snooze, we set off on the trail. Free from the weight of our packs, the miles passed quickly. A spring returned to our step. Sunshine! Happy! YAY! 

A dry and sunny day puts a smile on our faces!

Thank you Brenna for this shot. It's one of my favorites!

The formal trail turned into a route and after nearly jumping off the trail when we spooked a golden eagle perched on a rock nearby, we turned around.

Brenna S. photo.

Brenna S. photo.

Tired of sleeping in the tent and anxious for a shower, we decided to see how much a hotel was. Just out of curiosity, we said. The Milepost had an ad for a cabin stay and included breakfast of sourdough pancakes. SOLD! We booked a cabin and continued south to Cantwell. 

We were happy until we pulled up to the place. The main lodge building had boarded up windows and a “No Trespassing” sign out front. The cabin, true to the host’s word, was behind it and left unlocked just for us. We checked out the cabin, which looked fine, but something felt off. We decided that it had too much of a real-life horror movie vibe that we jumped back in the car and drove off before the host could find and murder us.

Now back in the rain cloud that permanently hangs over the Alaska Range, we set up our tent in the rain. We ate dinner in the rain. Then we went to bed thoroughly exhausted well before ten p.m.

Perfectly flat (free) campsite. Yeah!