A Day in Denali | Part 1: The Journey

Denali National Park, Alaska. Maps at bottom of post.

Actually, it was a day and a half, but that doesn’t make as good of a title. Why would someone spend only a day and a half at Denali National Park? Because that’s all the time we had. In August 2014, my sister Andrea and I visited Kenai Fjords National Park (see the links along the right for the trip report), and after our itinerary there, we had three days before our flight back home out of Anchorage. It’s possible to drive to Denali from Kenai Fjords in one day, provided one doesn’t mind a long drive chock full of spectacular scenery.  

We decided to drive from Seward—our home base at Kenai Fjords—to Denali on Day One, spend Day Two in the park, then drive to Anchorage on Day Three. The scenic drive is spectacular, and as far as ways to spend a few days are concerned, this wasn’t too shabby.  Would we have loved to spend a week in Denali? Of course! But if the options were 1) Spend one day at DNP, or 2) Don’t go to DNP at all, we were going to go with option #1.

There was a part of us that wanted to get to Denali as early as possible and maybe squeeze in a short hike and check out a visitor center before nightfall. But in the end we decided not to rush the drive. The journey should be the adventure, and we let the day unfold on its own.  The drive was approximately 375 miles; we took our time, stopped whenever and wherever we wanted, and had a spectacular time.  It ended up taking us forever to get there, but it was worth every minute.

We said goodbye to the wonderful town of Seward, and headed north around 9:00 am. After seven days on the Kenai Peninsula, we were finally going to experience what something other than rain was like. Every single day of our Kenai Fjords adventure was enjoyable, but we were excited at the prospect of dry clothes and maybe even some sunshine.  

Moose Pass

Our first stop was Moose Pass, which is a town of around 120 people. We spent a few minutes enjoying the view along Upper Trail Lake, took a clandestine photo of an Alaska State Trooper vehicle, and moved on.  Next was Girdwood, southeast of Anchorage. We visited the Alaska Roots store for a few screen-printed hoodies, and chatted with the young couple who owns the store. We each picked out a few designs we liked, and watched the owners’ adorable baby crawl around the front of the shop while our sweatshirts were customized in the adjacent workroom. After that we wandered around the small town and checked out a few other shops before moving on. We continued along Turnagain Arm, passing through Anchorage and following Alaska Highway 1 until it intersects with Alaska Highway 3—also known as the Parks Highway—and continuing north on Highway 3.

We stopped next in Talkeetna.  The base for mountaineering expeditions to Denali is located here, and it is also a colorful party of a town. Actually, I learned later that it is not incorporated and is considered a “historical district,” not a town.  As such, it has no human mayor, but a cat named Stubbs became the community’s honorary mayor and enjoyed a long run in office until he died in 2017 at the impressive age of 20. (Mayor Stubbs has a Wikipedia page and a Twitter account.) 

We ate lunch at Mountain High Pizza Pie before wandering through the open air market and visiting the various shops to browse the artwork, jewelry, clothing, and other offerings, many of which were locally made. 

The weather was sunny and warm—a bit of a foreign concept for us since arriving in Alaska. A curious thing we kept hearing people in town say to each other was “The mountain is out.” “The mountain” is of course Denali (formerly known as Mt. McKinley...previously known as Denali), and “out” meant that it was not completely shrouded in clouds, which tends to be more its style.  We would learn later that the mountain is not fully visible much of the time. Clear views are not the norm during most of the year, and more often than not the clouds hide most of the mountain, including its dual peaks, from view. It was clearly significant when the mountain could be seen.

The internet claims that Mayor Stubbs' office was located in Nagley's Store

This was exciting news, and after bidding farewell to this fun town, we stopped at the first turnoff that claimed to have possible mountain views. Several cars were parked, and people were standing around peering into the distance with binoculars and cameras. We joined the party and spent several minutes staring intensely at the Alaska Range miles and miles away, which was partially covered by fluffy white clouds. I scanned back and forth along the mountains, wondering which one was Denali, and how I could discern it from the others if the clouds were hiding its peak (and why was everyone saying it was “out” if there were still clouds covering it?). Then Andrea figured out what we were doing wrong.  We were foolishly looking at the main part of the mountain range, which was populated with run-of-the-mill mountains—mere hilly peasants. Denali was a Royal Highness Mountain, and could not be seen with the likes of them. We were looking too low—WAY too low. What I had thought was a mass of Cumulonimbus clouds above the mountain range was actually The Mountain. Andrea explained that I should look at the clouds but keep moving my gaze up…up…keep going…look closely at the “clouds”…

Denali's ridges high above the clouds

I may have actually said “whoa” like Keanu Reeves once I figured it out. What we were looking at was a layered vista of regular mountains, then clouds, then the snow-covered crags of a behemoth rising far above all of it. The majority of the mountain range was like a cute rock garden decorating Denali’s grounds.

After that we drove on and on, stopping every so often to marvel at the scenery, which was stunning. We stopped at various scenic sites with expansive mountain views, as well as random spots along the road that caught our eyes. Fireweed was in bloom all around, its bright purple flowers popping against the lush green landscape. The most vivid rainbow either of us had ever seen appeared in front of us at some point, and it stayed there throughout the journey—sometimes obscured by clouds, but then re-appearing and guiding us forward like a beacon.

The day was truly all sunshine and rainbows with one small exception: We discovered that the price of leaving the constant rain of Kenai Fjords behind was a growing abundance of mosquitoes the further north we drove. We had been lulled into a false sense of security by the lack of insects during the earlier part of the trip, and received a rude awakening when we were immediately assaulted by a mosquito armada upon getting out of the car at an interpretive site about the Alaska Range. In fact, I think it was that moment when it dawned on us that we hadn’t had to deal with mosquitoes at all and how awesome that had been. We were very quickly brought back to reality.

A view from an interpretive site as you near Denali National Park

Our destination for the night was Denali Lakeview Inn, a small B&B type place on Otto Lake in the town of Healy, about 10 miles north of the park. It’s an out-of-the-way establishment, located off a dirt road far from the busy area of the park, with a middle-of-nowhere feel to it. We arrived around 9:00 pm, located our welcome card on the wall outside near the entrance, and removed our shoes upon entering per the card’s instructions. We then made our way to our room and were immediately mesmerized by the view from our window.  Otto Lake, Mount Healy, and the last remaining strip of our faithful rainbow gleamed before us, welcoming us to the rapture. Classical music twinkled from the clouds. There were mini boxes of cereal in the room.  Everything was magical. It was difficult to leave, but we were hungry and decided to go to 49th State Brewing Company for a late dinner. 

Our room and its utopian view. Denali Lakeview Inn - Healy, AK

Around 10:30 pm the sun was setting and the moon rose, full and orange above the mountains as we left the restaurant. We decided to drive to the park to familiarize ourselves with the location of the Wilderness Access Center, where we would need to be in the morning. We had an early start planned, and needed to be there at 6:30 am to board a shuttle.  We drove to the park, stopping now and then to stare at the glowing moon on one side of the road and the colorful sunset on the other. We encountered a couple of moose eating vegetation along the road during the dusky drive, and we pulled over a short distance away to watch them. After a few minutes, they seemed to become aware of our presence and began acting agitated, so we pulled away and left them to their roadside dining. 

We arrived at the park and did some reconnaissance. The weather was beautiful, and the clear sky offered perfect views of the moon, which had continued to become more orange and was looking magnificent. We hung around for a while, just loitering in a deserted parking lot and moon-watching.

When we arrived back at the inn at midnight, the view over Otto Lake had transformed into a mystical blue dreamland. I was pretty sure that enlightenment could be reached in the reflection of the moon on the lake, and some kind of transcendental lullaby was emanating from the water itself. We didn’t want to go to sleep, but staying outside for more than a few minutes would’ve required a generous application of insect repellant to ward off mosquitoes, which we didn’t feel like getting into right before going to sleep.

We reluctantly turned in and tried to get a few hours of sleep before attempting to see as much of Denali National Park as we could in a single day.

Continued in Part Two: Eielson Visitor Center, Alpine Hike, and Lots and Lots of Grizzlies.

Kenai Fjords National Park, Alaska 2014 | Part 7: Fourth Day at Kenai Fjords Glacier Lodge & Return to Seward

Aialik Glacier on a stormy day

Beyond the protected world of Pedersen Lagoon, storms had been raging along the coast and fjords over the last few days.  During our stay at Kenai Fjords Glacier Lodge, we met a few people whose time here was unexpectedly extended due to stormy seas preventing their departure (they were not too broken up about this).  There were others on an organized tour of multiple lodges who arrived only to turn around and leave due to the proximity of another storm, the timing of which was likely to strand them here and throw off the rest of their planned tour.  I can’t imagine being shown this place only to be told, “Sorry, you’re not staying,” but I imagine they made up for it in other ways later.  

Left: Path through the rainforest.  Right: Scratches from a black bear.

The weather awoke on our last day at the lodge, realized it had mistakenly given us a partly sunny day with minimal rain the day before, and set out to correct its error to the point of over-achievement.  It was cold and raining, and there was a tension in the air regarding the weather.  Snippets of discussion were heard here and there regarding the timing of the boat and a short window of opportunity to come and go.  It seemed we would be returning to Seward this afternoon on the cusp of another significant storm, and we got the feeling that the return boat trip was going to be interesting.  I set an alarm on my watch to ensure I remembered to take my sea-sickness meds at the right time.

The meadow looked different every time we walked through it

Our final activity here would take us back to Aialik Glacier, this time by boat.  But first, we were led through the rainforest for a leisurely walk on a different path to the beach.  Moss hung from branches overhead, and a set of perfect scratch marks in a tree revealed bear presence in the forest near the lodge.  We emerged from the forest into the meadow, which was exceptionally moody this morning.  The clouds were low and dramatic, obscuring the mountains in the distance and appearing to reach nearly to the ground.  Again, although I had fantasized about clear weather and crisp views, the intense gloom was striking.  We continued to a stretch of beach we had not seen yet.  Instead of stones, this beach was blanketed with coarse black sand, and the low tide revealed a wide stretch of it littered with small scraps of seaweed.  A bear had recently walked this way as well, its paw prints visible in the sand.

Left: Black bear paw prints on the beach  Right: Our ride

Our ride, a small boat called Weather or Knot, was waiting for us offshore in the gloom.  It was the water taxi that picked up the kayakers on Slate Beach the day before, and Jessica was once again at the helm.  She shuttled our group toward Aialik Glacier in what was now a vindictive pelting rain.  

The north end of Aialik Glacier

Without the sun to wash out its color, Aialik Glacier and its iceberg spawn looked amazingly blue.  The boat came in close to a few gorgeous icebergs.  Their color was stunning, with one of them looking like a transparent, mostly submerged mountain range with its peaks just breaking through the water’s surface.  (After passing this one, Jessica brought the boat to a dead stop, swung around and went back to it, explaining to those of us within earshot that we had to go back because it was so beautiful.  This made Andrea and I very happy; we’d been staring wistfully at it getting smaller in the distance.)  With icy raindrops stinging our faces, we stayed on the boat’s deck as long as we could to take everything in.

Iceberg near Aialik Glacier

Photo by Andrea

More information can be found at the National Snow & Ice Data Center: https://nsidc.org/cryosphere/glaciers/

The boat meandered in front of the glacier for a while to allow everyone time to ooh an aah at it (as much as possible given the volatile weather - it was much more comfortable inside the boat), then we began heading back to the lodge, passing a bald eagle perched on a small iceberg and some kayakers paddling close to the glacier.  I assume these were experienced paddlers with the skills to navigate close to any calving ice.  I envied their up-close view of the glacier, but not the conditions in which they were out there.  We had been very lucky the day before with good weather for our kayaking excursion.

I don't know what to say.  Photo by Andrea.

As we neared Slate Beach, we slowed down for a few minutes to watch a large black bear—maybe the same one as yesterday, maybe not—walking along the shore before continuing on.  Once back on land, Andrea and I lingered in the meadow for a while before returning to the lodge and preparing to leave.  The drama was still in full swing, and the view was too magical to ignore.

Ghost trees in the misty meadow

We had mixed feelings about leaving.  We would miss our cabin and the beauty of Pedersen Lagoon, but we felt we had stayed the perfect amount of time, and we were excited for the next phase of the trip, where we would experience adventures we had planned ourselves.  We walked at the front of the group as we made our way back down the path toward the boat.  Along the way, rustling in the grass at the edge of the path caught our attention.  We stopped and a porcupine waddled out of the grass and onto the path in front of us.  We were surprised and excited by this unexpected occurrence, as was the porcupine.  As soon as it emerged from the grass, it realized that it had lumbered out in front of a bunch of giant, scary animals, and it waddled as quickly as it could across the path and into the safety of the grass on the other side.  Andrea photographed it the entire way, ending up with a hilarious set of shots that, when viewed in succession, look like a stop-action movie of the awkwardly fleeing animal.  The encounter was an unexpected, final gift from Kenai Fjords Glacier Lodge - a beautiful, truly unforgettable place.

Porcupine sampling.  Photos by Andrea.

The boat ride back was not the leisurely tour we experienced on the way here; it was a race to beat the weather, which continued to grow more threatening.  Many puffins were out on the water riding the choppy waves.  It was cold, rainy, and rough, and I stayed inside almost the entire time, venturing outside only when some orcas were spotted about 2/3 of the way through the trip.  A group of four were swimming very close to shore.  One of them was a male with a very tall dorsal fin.  Seeing it swimming toward shore, practically right up onto the beach, struck me as disturbing.  There were a few cabins just inside the trees beyond the beach, and I wondered who lived there and if it was normal for killer whales to creep up on them like this.  This was the only time the boat slowed its pace, and we lingered for a while, periodically losing sight of the orcas when they would dive, then finding them again when they emerged in another location.  It was difficult to predict where they would turn up, and I was unfortunately looking off the wrong side of the boat when I heard a collective “Whoa!” from the other side.  One of them had suddenly breached, and Andrea was lucky enough to see it.  

Orcas

We reached Seward around 6:00 p.m., picked up a rental car, and drove to the Salmon Bake Restaurant and Cabins for dinner and to check into a cabin.  Wonderful, unhealthy fish and chips were in order after all of the wonderful, healthy food at Kenai Fjords Glacier Lodge.  After dinner, we walked around Seward for a while before returning to our cabin to go to bed.  We had an early start the next day, and we were both exhausted from so much looking at stuff. 

To be continued in Part 8: Hiking Harding Icefield Trail

Kenai Fjords National Park, Alaska 2014 | Part 2: Anchorage to Seward via the Alaska Railroad

It turns out the warm and sunny weather of the day before was a fluke. The sky was overcast when we started walking to the train station, and it began raining lightly along the way. While the temperature outside was cool, the train station was hot and packed with people. We picked up our tickets, checked our luggage, and received fancy pins to wear that alerted everyone that we were highfalutin GoldStar passengers. 
 

All aboard.  Waiting to depart - looking forward from our seats in the GoldStar Dome.

I knew that this experience as a whole was going to be great, but I was really excited for this train trip. It had been a long time since I'd ridden a train; not wanting to take any chances, I took motions sickness medication as a precaution, hoping the less drowsy formula wouldn't put me in a stupor. Vague, foggy memories of a childhood trip to the Rocky Mountains, during which I was slumped – not quite awake, and not quite asleep – in the backseat of my parents' car as it wound up and down mountain roads always give me pause when considering taking motion sickness meds. I was like the NazgÛl, neither living nor dead. I wanted to be conscious for this experience.

I recommend booking seats on the train early if choosing the GoldStar dome service. We made our reservations in late March and had great seats – row six in the first upper passenger deck. Row one had the best view, and I wondered how much earlier the people in those seats made theirs. (Something to shoot for next time I'm in the neighborhood.) Huge picture windows curve uninterrupted into the transparent dome ceiling, providing expansive views. Unfortunately, the splattering of raindrops made it difficult to take photos out of our window, but because we were fancy, our car had its own outdoor viewing platform, which solved that problem. Once we were out of the immediate Anchorage area, we made many trips to this outdoor deck for as long as we could stand the cold wind. We also had a small bar, where booze could be purchased throughout the trip. 

Luggage was loaded into baggage cars, passengers were settled in their seats, and the train left the station at 6:45 a.m. 

Shortly after departing, breakfast was served in the dining area on the lower level of our car for those who were interested. Always interested in breakfast, we both ordered dishes featuring reindeer sausage, with hot chocolate for Andrea and a bloody Mary for me. Naturally, during the few minutes I took to use the restroom – a slightly challenging activity while being jostled around in a tiny space – I missed a bald eagle flying next to the train. As we ate breakfast, we watched the suburban sprawl of the Anchorage area disappear to be replaced by meadows, streams, and the Chugach Mountains on one side, and Turnagain Arm on the other.
 

In the dining car, traveling along Turnagain Arm. This passenger finally convinced her kid to put his tablet away (note the slightly smug look of victory).

Turnagain Arm is one of two branches of Cook Inlet (the other is Knik Arm to the north). It is known for its extreme tide variation of up to 40 feet, which rushes into this narrow channel as quickly as 10 mph. Expansive mudflats are exposed during low tide, and they are surprisingly dangerous. Formed by silt deposited when the tide comes in, they look deceptively stable when the tide goes back out. While they might appear dry on the surface, underneath they can still be saturated. When standing on these mudflats, if a person's foot sinks through the surface, things can get terrifying quickly. The wet silt is like quicksand, and there are horrific stories of people being trapped – held in place and helpless as the nearly freezing water of the tide comes in at its accelerated pace.
 

Photo by Andrea - taken in Anchorage

Alaska Railroad personnel periodically provided commentary, sharing the history behind the region and various landmarks. Evidence of the 1964 earthquake revealed itself here and there in the occasional cluster of ghost trees – preserved skeletons of trees that were killed when the ground sank and saltwater rushed inland, saturating the ground before being absorbed into the trees' roots.   

My first Alaskan wildlife sighting happened during breakfast as we passed close to some cliffs. We were advised to keep a lookout, as Dall sheep are sometimes seen on the cliffs' higher reaches. Shortly after this advisement, someone shouted “sheep!” and we looked to see one or two white specks high up on the cliff. Zooming in through the window of the bumpy, speeding train, my camera managed to catch one. Success!
 

**First Alaskan Wildlife Sighting**

Dall Sheep.  (Trust me. It's there.)

Once the train reaches the end of Turnagain Arm, it heads inland into Chugach National Forest, and the Chugach Mountains give way to the Kenai Mountain range. We observed a bald eagle perched on an upper branch of a tree at the edge of a meadow as we headed into the mountains, and soon after, the first impressive glacier scene came into view: Spencer Glacier. 
 

Spencer Glacier

Following Spencer Glacier, the train winds through a series of tunnels, with views of Placer River just off the tracks. Then comes an area called Grandview, a mountain pass with spectacular views. The scenery is gorgeous, and although I had admittedly hoped for a sunny day, the imposing sky lent a dramatic effect to the scenery. We spent a lot of time on the outdoor viewing platform, occasionally returning to our seats to warm up.

Entering a tunnel

Approaching another tunnel

After Grandview, the train offers another impressive view of a glacier at work carving out a valley between mountains. Trail Glacier is particularly beautiful, with scenic landscape unfolding in layers before the train tracks: mountains give way to forest, which opens up into a meadow with a stream winding through it. After that, it's view upon view of Trail Creek, Upper Trail Lake, streams flowing down mountainsides from melting snow and ice at the top, and the train tracks winding through it all. It was awesome in the true sense of the word. To celebrate this, we drank mimosa.

Trail Glacier.  This place actually exists in real life.  The only way this could be better is if a couple of bear cubs were paddling a tiny canoe in that stream.

The tracks wind past the town of Moose Pass, where it appears that every one of its 200 residents owns a float plane.  Impractical where I live, but I feel like I should have one. The train crosses a bridge over Trail Creek, then heads toward Kenai Lake, and finally Seward. Despite my extreme excitement for this train trip, I am ashamed to report that I caught myself dozing shortly before arriving in Seward. The combination of Dramamine, bloody Mary, and mimosa may have been a contributing factor.

Looking toward the front of the train as it travels along Kenai Lake

Looking toward the rear of the train as it travels along Kenai Lake

We arrived in Seward around 11:15 a.m. It is a short walk from the train station to the harbor, which was filled with fishing boats, sailboats, tour boats, and one huge cruise ship. The Port of Seward is an active port with boat repair yards and a coal-loading facility.  We were staying at The Whistle Stop, a converted train car right on the harbor. We were concerned that it would be loud there during the night and early morning since it is located directly on the harbor, but it proved to be a quiet and comfortable place to stay. We were too early to check in, so we dropped our duffel bags off and headed out to explore the town. 
 

View of Seward Harbor from the Whistle Stop

Seward is beautiful. Nestled at the foot of mountains on Resurrection Bay, it is the gateway to Kenai Fjords National Park. A small corner of the park can be reached by car just outside Seward; however, the majority of the park is best accessed by boat. Various boat tours depart Seward's harbor daily, and water taxi services can drop kayakers off at various locations within the park, where they can paddle and camp if they so choose, before meeting back up with the water taxi to return to town.

Tour boats in the harbor.  Fireweed in the foreground.

We walked the length of town, past charter offices, restaurants, and gift shops, to the Alaska SeaLife Center, an ocean wildlife rescue center and aquarium. We spent some time there touching sea stars and sea urchins in open tanks, watching Woody the sea lion flop around and roar, and observing a puffin shoot its feces an impressively long distance at an unsuspecting tourist. To celebrate this, we ate crab.

We ate a late lunch/early dinner at Chinook's, where we enjoyed poutine, Alaskan king crab, and a crab melt sandwich. After that, we returned to the Whistle Stop to take a nap and recuperate. Later, we followed the Coastal Walk past salmon spawning in a stream and along the bay to the historic marker of the starting point of the Iditarod National Historic Trail. There is a monument with a plaque and a replica of a sled. I expected a statue of a dog; it seems odd that there isn't one. We watched sea otters floating on their backs offshore, and a bald eagle soared overhead, scanning the shallow water near shore for dinner. As we returned to our room on the harbor, the setting sun behind us cast orange light on the mountains across the bay. It was finally sinking in that we were in Alaska. 
 

Sunset on Seward Harbor

Wildlife spotted:

Dall Sheep: 1 (maybe 2)

Bald eagle: 3

Sea otter: several 

 Some maps:

 

Alaska Railroad - Coastal Classic train route

To be continued in: Kenai Fjords National Park: Seward to Aialik Bay