Denali
We’re surrounded by natural beauty. It’s hard to get our heads around the sheer ize of this place - Six Million Acres!
After settling into our campground at Savage River, we board a bus that takes us further into the park. We take a backpack with water, snacks and a lunch. Transportation by bus is required to minimize traffic, and to restrict human contact with animals residing in the park. We stop at a few designated rest stop areas.
After settling into our campground at Savage River, we board a bus that takes us further into the park. We take a backpack with water, snacks and a lunch. Transportation by bus is required to minimize traffic, and to restrict human contact with animals residing in the park. We stop at a few designated rest stop areas.
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Although I understand the reasons for the buses and agree with the logic, I begin to understand how animals in a zoo feel. I’m looking out at animals roaming free, while I’m confined in a bus peering out of the windows with a lot of other people. Depending on which side of the bus I’m on, I may or may not see what’s being viewed at the moment. It’s an unusually hot day today, so wildlife isn’t moving as much as is typical. As another bus passes us going the opposite direction, Jhan stands up and leans toward the window exclaiming, look – it’s PEOPLE! He livened up our bus of hot, dust-covered people.
We see Dahl Sheep on distant mountaintops, adorable picas, one Grizzly, and several caribou by the roadside and on snow patches trying to stay cool.
We see Dahl Sheep on distant mountaintops, adorable picas, one Grizzly, and several caribou by the roadside and on snow patches trying to stay cool.
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The benefit of the hot, clear day becomes apparent when we see Mt. McKinley out in all it’s glory at Eielson Visitor Center. We can also refill our water bottles here.
A sign at the visitor center documents the long hours of daylight we’re enjoying.
An ongoing debate continues regarding terminology on the name of the mountain. Denali National Park was at one time named Mt. McKinley National Park, but was renamed Denali in 1980. Many would also like to see the name of the mountain officially changed back to Denali, it’s native Athabascan name.
The name Mt. McKinley was given in honor of President McKinley in 1896 by a gold reporter – a political move based on promoting Alaskan gold with McKinley. The name change was made official in 1901 after McKinley’s death. President McKinley was from Ohio and never set foot in Alaska nor had any great interest or connection to Alaska. The name change has been an ongoing debate for decades, and a bill is currently pending to rename the mountain.
Signs in Denali National Park describe the reason for delay:
The name Mt. McKinley was given in honor of President McKinley in 1896 by a gold reporter – a political move based on promoting Alaskan gold with McKinley. The name change was made official in 1901 after McKinley’s death. President McKinley was from Ohio and never set foot in Alaska nor had any great interest or connection to Alaska. The name change has been an ongoing debate for decades, and a bill is currently pending to rename the mountain.
Signs in Denali National Park describe the reason for delay:
Regardless of whether I like a politician or not, I personally have an issue with naming anything after those who are elected to serve the public. Seems to me that this is just one more incentive for politicians to spend money or to elevate themselves (or have others elevate them) above the people they are supposed to be serving. Just sayin’ . . .
When we return to the campground, any thoughts of taking a walk or sitting outside are thwarted by swarms of mosquitos. They’re only slightly slowed down by the thick coat of bug spray we’re wearing. We’re told we should appreciate the mosquitos since they’re food for the many species of birds we’re able to enjoy here. We’ve tried. We can’t do it. When we see one of the bazzilion big, hungry, buzzing aerial torpedos with their little eyes staring at us and their stingers wiggling in anticipation of being stuck into some part of our bodies, our response is “You little bastard. You have to die.” The issue is, we NEVER see only one. They cover the screens of our motorhome like a carpet, until we spray the screen and happily watch them fall off.
We decide that perhaps camping here and riding buses for another two days is not the best plan. Friends who were here two weeks ago thoroughly enjoyed the park, essentially bug free. It’s a wonderful place, but next time we visit, we’ll make it early June or early September – pre or post the bug infusion. We’ll venture out tomorrow and explore other parts of Alaska.
When we return to the campground, any thoughts of taking a walk or sitting outside are thwarted by swarms of mosquitos. They’re only slightly slowed down by the thick coat of bug spray we’re wearing. We’re told we should appreciate the mosquitos since they’re food for the many species of birds we’re able to enjoy here. We’ve tried. We can’t do it. When we see one of the bazzilion big, hungry, buzzing aerial torpedos with their little eyes staring at us and their stingers wiggling in anticipation of being stuck into some part of our bodies, our response is “You little bastard. You have to die.” The issue is, we NEVER see only one. They cover the screens of our motorhome like a carpet, until we spray the screen and happily watch them fall off.
We decide that perhaps camping here and riding buses for another two days is not the best plan. Friends who were here two weeks ago thoroughly enjoyed the park, essentially bug free. It’s a wonderful place, but next time we visit, we’ll make it early June or early September – pre or post the bug infusion. We’ll venture out tomorrow and explore other parts of Alaska.