Silence and Solitude: Hiking in Denali, Alaska

I took advantage of a conference held in Anchorage, Alaska to put together a hiking trip in the Denali National Park and Preserve. Denali (the "tall one") is the Athabascan name for Mount McKinley, which at over 20,000 feet, not surprisingly dominates the park. Despite Alaska's reputation as being relatively under-developed, at least when compared to "the lower 48" states of the US, I found Denali National Park to be a bit too tourist friendly. Luckily, it was easy to escape the crowds.

Before I went to Denali, a few of us took a trip to Seward, AK to see some glaciers. We saw some sea lions on a boat ride amidst a fantastic backdrop of snow-capped mountains rising up from the sea.

I then took the train to Denali. (Most of the travel and accommodations were handled through Alaska Tour & Travel who were very helpful once you explain to them that you're not their typical tourist.)

    Denali National Park's showcase is the Alaskan range and it's jaw dropping spectacular. You can take a bus ride deep into the park and get to within 90 miles of Mount McKinley itself. (We could only glimpse "the tall one" at very brief intervals before the clouds kept descending.) Some of the best views are at Eielson Visitor Center and at Wonder Lake.

There are plenty of opportunities to see real wildlife in the park and we were fortunate enough to spot some brown bears trying to catch a squirrel. The bears seem used to homo sapiens and weren't too bothered by us clicking away.

The best part of the trip for me was a solitary hike into the wilderness. I took the Savage River trail and proceeded beyond the tourist trap point and immediately left everything behind me literally and metaphorically. There was not a soul in sight. While the "trail" was somewhat rough in places, it is perfectly suited for a not-very-demanding hike. (I was told that one could keep on going on this trail. I turned back after a few hours.)

To the person reading this, I hope you'll forgive some self-indulgent nature mysticism. What is it about these mountains that drives us to spend hours in solitude? Is it because the silently stoic ranges strike us dumb verbally and mentally? Why do we become completely insignificant in the face of such massive majesty? Why does that dazzling, shimmering river force us to keep flowing alongside with no regard for safe harbor? And, deep in the wilderness, there's this tangible feeling of solitude (and not loneliness) with the promise of renewal when we return.

In Denali, the saga of Christopher McCandless - a solitary hiker who died while braving the wilderness - tends to come up a lot. Quite a few tourists try to go partway up the Stampede trail which has become a pilgrimage after his death. Jon Krakauer popularized this story in "Into the Wild" (a book I haven't read but plan to pick up.) Regardless of the real story behind McCandless' tragedy, the appeal of the Alaskan wilderness is undeniable.