Denali Revisited

Our recent trip to Alaska met all our expectations and then some. We saw abundant wildlife, met wonderful people, and saw non-stop jaw-dropping scenery. I was hopeful that I might see something I had never seen before…Denali.

You see, in 1971, as a mere babe of 22, when I got to be part of the National Outdoor Leadership School's first attempt to summit the mountain, I never saw it. That’s right. I spent forty days on the mountain but it was always shrouded in clouds. Climbing it was a transformative experience and provided a reference point for my entire outdoor leadership career, but it stuck in my craw that I never got a good view of the mountain. When you’re on the mountain it’s too massive to get the perspective you do when you’re at one of the roadside pull offs a hundred miles away. The best look I got in 1971 was before the start of the climb, from the Eielson Visitor Center 35 miles from the summit. But only the lower north peak could be seen through the clouds. Then, upon our return, over a month later we still had no luck. I learned later that the mountain can typically be seen about four days a month.

My best view of the mountain in 1971

Fast forward twenty-two years. I returned with my family, and fared no better. We were there for four days and still never saw the mountain. So I hoped that this most recent trip might produce a better result, since, who knows, this may well be my last trip.

Phyliss cheered me on as we left Anchorage heading towards the Park. On a clear day you can see the summit from Anchorage over 120 miles away. But once again it was outta sight, literally. We stopped at each roadside pullout. For Phyliss seeing the mountain became less important than telling every person she met that I had climbed it.

We’d pull into a scenic pullout trying to catch a glimpse of the mountain and would encounter a group of fellow tourists taking in the cloud-filled view. Phyliss would initiate a conversation that went something like this: “You know my husband climbed the mountain.”

The stranger would say, “Really, that’s amazing.”

I would say, “Yes, but so have 25,000 others.”

She would add, “Yes, but most of them fly into the West Buttress and climb it in three-weeks or less. How many days were you on the mountain?”

I’d respond, “Yes, we took a longer, perhaps more challenging route. We trekked over 100 miles and I was on the mountain for 42 days.”

This would happen a few times each day and became a running joke between Phyliss and me. While I was on a quest to get a decent glimpse of the mountain, she was on a quest to let the world know I had climbed it.

Our last morning in the area didn’t exactly inspire confidence that my goal would be met. The forecast was discouraging, but when we awoke in our camper and looked out the window, the sky was unexpectedly blue.

I said to Phyliss, “Maybe the summit will be poking through. Let’s take one last drive up the road.”

After breakfast at our improvised roadside campsite, we pulled the camper onto the highway and headed back toward the Park. It was only 9:00 a.m., but Denali National Park was already wide awake. Buses were loading, people were milling about, and the visitor center was packed.

We headed up the Park road away from the crowds, hoping we might see the peak that had eluded me all these years. The road wound through the taiga, the spruce gradually giving way to open tundra. We climbed through rolling hills, rounded another bend, and came over a rise.

And there it was.

The third time’s a charm.

Finally - a clear view of the mountain

After fifty-five years Denali had finally decided to make an appearance for me. From nearly seventy miles away, it didn’t look distant so much as enormous. The mountain dominates everything around it, its summit and upper flanks rising above the landscape like an immense white monolith. The snow and ice stood in stark contrast to the green, rolling tundra in the foreground and the deep blue sky behind it.

We pulled over and simply stared…and then started taking photos.

For those who guide others up the mountain perhaps it’s just another day at the office. For those who have never attempted anything like it, the idea of climbing it is inconceivable. For me, as a young adult not knowing what the next steps in my life were to be, it was a rite of passage that set the compass bearing for my life — and this summer’s return, as a late septuagenarian, turned that youthful adventure into an opportunity to depart the park with a smile.