Denali Revisited

View from Blueberry Hill just off Denali Highway 8

We are backtracking a bit.  Our plans are to hit the Dempster as close to September 6^th as possible.  Our hope is to catch the Dempster in fall color.

So, with a week to spare, we decided to try to camp in Denali National Park again.  We successfully made reservations for Sunday and Monday nights.  With three nights in between our leaving the McCarthy Road and arriving in Denali, we decided to boondock one night on Denali Highway 8, then stay in a commercial campground to catch up on the blog, several editing commitments I had made, as well as finishing up the humorous contest video for this year’s Rocky Mountain Outdoor Writers and Photographers Conference (see rmowp.org).

The road to Denali looked quite different than we remembered during our 2010 trip.  Then the clouds were so low and heavy with rain that it was impossible to see the mountains.  Although Mt. McKinley (Denali) was covered in clouds, we were delighted to see lovely lakes, creeks, rivers, and nearby mountains.  Denali Highway 8 is about 135 miles, with only about 15 percent paved.  The gravel road is in fairly good condition except for a few areas of deep washboard and potholes.

Hunters were everywhere.  Caribou season had opened on August 9.  We saw rigs of every sort, many pulling ATVs.  We easily saw over a half dozen caribou heads and racks either tied to the tops of vehicles, lashed to trailers, or poking out from pickup truck beds.

With the campground nearly full and more generators than we could count, we decided to boondock in a place we now affectionately call Blueberry Hill.  The site was off the road a bit and covered in blueberry bushes.  We arrive fairly late in the afternoon, set up camp, then took a stroll, figuring that there wouldn’t be a beast within miles because of all the hunters.

Blueberry Hill

The next morning, we retraced our steps and discovered an enormous bear track not far from the camper.  So much for being all by our lonesomes and thank goodness for our hard-side camper!

Fresh bear track

On our drive out, to our surprise we spied three caribou grazing in spite of all the hunters.  We figured these caribou would end up on someone's dinner plate before day's end.

We arrived at the Cantwell RV Park, a stopover we made back in 2010.  They have wonderfully clean, hot showers… a true treat for us.  We were able to finish most of our tasks by Sunday, broke camp, and headed for Denali.  It felt like a good omen when we spied a cow and twins along the roadside before we entered the park.

Denali was much less crowded than it had been just a few short weeks ago.  Perhaps it was because it was a Sunday.  We took a drive up the Park Road.  While park tour buses are allowed to drive up to the Visitor Centers, everyone else can only drive in the first 13 miles.

We found a campsite, staked our claim, then took the drive, hoping to see lots of animals.  Unfortunately, we only saw a distant moose cow and calf grazing on a mountainside.  Trying not to be discouraged, we headed back to camp for the night and took in a ranger talk on ravens.

The next morning, road construction from the bridge on the main highway woke us up around 6:30 as some heavy equipment driver decided to go in reverse.  The backup beeping cut through the air until it sounded like it was right outside our camp.  David made coffee, and we broke camp to see what other animals might be up early.

As we drove along the park road, we spied two photographers with extremely large lenses set up along the roadside along with several other vehicles and onlookers.  A quick check and we learned that a bull moose was bedded down in the brush.  It took a bit of time to locate the beast, nestled among the alders with only his antlers showing.  I took a photo… it was definitely moose antlers… in velvet… but they looked a bit odd.  We figured that the moose must have his head cocked awkwardly. 

The temperature was in the low 40s, misty rain, and the wind was blowing.  David and I both dug out our winter parkas to fend off the chill.  We waited… and waited… and waited.  Several folks stopped to ask what we were photographing.  One fellow from Pennsylvania asked, drove on, then came back about forty-five minutes later.  The photographers began packing up.  Everyone was beginning to wonder if standing out in the cold made sense. 

The Pennsylvanian asked David and me how long we would wait it out.  Shivering, I told him that I didn’t know.  Then he smiled and said, “I’ll get him up for you.”  Without another word, he began walking out toward the moose.  All of us were aghast, fearful that we would watch him be trampled to death.  No photo is worth a man’s life.  We watched him walk out in waist-deep brush and take a wide, considerate berth around the moose.  The photographers with the big lenses hurriedly pulled their gear back out and set up again.

His reckless venture worked.  The bull moose rose from the ground, staring at the fellow.  Thankfully, the bull did not charge.  What happened next, however, shocked us all.  A second bull stood.  It was the reason the antlers looked so funny… the two were lying side by side.  Within minutes, a third bull stood.  As one of the photographers said, “This is epic!”

I agree... I must have taken over 200 photos.  God was so generous!!!

Three bull moose in Denali

Funny how nobody felt cold anymore!  We all began shooting our cameras.  Park tour buses came and went, RVs, cars, work crews, but the three moose munched calmly, stripping willow branches and nibbling on alders.  We must have watched them for over an hour.  It was amazing!

After the bulls finally moseyed off into tall brush, we packed up, elated with the opportunity.  From there, we completed the 13-mile drive, finding a caribou in the distance along the way. 

We decided to change campsites further from the road construction.  Our evening tour of the park road was again void of animals, however, the park rangers had set up the rut signs (further indicating the extent of the danger the man from Pennsylvania had placed himself in when walking out to make the bulls rise so he could get a photo).  Clouds began to lay their heads on the ground, and it started to rain. 

The following morning, more misty rain and no animals.  We stopped by the Denali park mercantile store for showers, then headed back to Blueberry Hill.  Most of the hunters were gone, and we felt like the only two people on earth.  The wind was brisk, so we donned parkas again and picked several handfuls of blueberries for breakfast, crawled in the camper, ready for a peaceful night’s sleep.

Blueberry picking

Around 2:30 in the morning, Roxanne woofed softly.  She has never been a vocal dog and has only done this twice during the trip, each time a signal that she needed to go out (and early in the trip when she was sick).  David got up, but she didn’t stand at the door as usual.  He crawled back in bed.  About ten minutes later, a second small woof.  Both of us got up.  Armed with bear spray, we took her out.  Although temperatures had plummeted into the upper 30s, at least the stars were out and beautiful.  Rox dutifully did her business, then we all crawled back in bed to get warm. 

Another woof.  Miffed, I got up and gave her a drink of water.  She dutifully drank.  I crawled back in bed.  She woofed.  I fussed.  She began to mumble little, almost inaudible woofs.  David and I both got up again, knowing that something was wrong.  It was then, with my feet dangling off the loft bed over Roxanne’s head that I noticed the furnace was blinking red.  David checked the sequence… it was the furnace interlock failure light… the tank was out of propane.  He donned his shoes again and changed out the tank with the spare.  As soon as the red light stopped blinking, Roxanne laid back down.  Her job was complete… the wonder dog had warned us of possible danger.  At nearly fourteen, the old girl still has it!

Morning broke clear and beautiful above us, although the mountains were still surrounded in clouds  (in other words, we didn’t see Mt. McKinley this trip).  Our breakfast of oatmeal with fresh blueberries was delightful, and we enjoyed a slow morning.  We broke camp and headed back to Glennallen to take the Tok Cutoff and spend a day or two on the other side of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.  

As we drive, we notice colors in the upper elevations.  Time to hit the Dempster!