Alaska: Denali National Park | A North American Bicycle Journey

Last night we arrived in Anchorage after 10pm and I had no idea where I was going to stay. While slowly assembling my bike outside the station I started talking to the security guard and he eventually got around to asking where I was staying. After my vague reply he pointed me towards an RV park just a half mile down the road. As I crept in under the stealth of darkness, a kiwi voice shouted out “Another touring cyclist!”. It was Heidi, and her partner Nigel who had just finished a ten month trip from Argentina to Anchorage on a tandem bicycle. This morning I crept out of the RV park before light and without paying. There’s another bit of bad Karma that will come back and bite me in the arse one day.

At Denali, David, Sophie whom I’d met on the train earlier had dinner at my campsite and finished off a bottle a wine I’d been carrying since Juneau. They are a wonderful couple and when not braving the elements in Denali, live and work in London. They eloped about six months ago to avoid the lavish wedding that both pairs of their parents want. They still haven’t let their parents know yet. After dinner they made hot chocolate with a generous splashing of traveller’s rum (plastic bottle) and we got to see the first flakes of snowfall. They invited me to join them to camp inside the park tomorrow night, but unfortunately I don’t have anywhere to stash my gear in the meantime (the lockers at the visitor centre were not designed to house an acoustic 12-string guitar).

On the train to Denali National Park (Day 110)

Train to Denali (Day 110)

Bear in Autumn foliage, Denali National Park (Day 111)

Wolves with a caribou kill, Denali National Park (Day 111)

A National Geographic photographer’s wet dream, Denali National Park (Day 111)

An amazing day. The Autumn colours are out in full and it snowed last night so everything looks
bloody splendid. And so said the tour bus driver Peter who gave a wonderful commentary along the entire trip into the park. We saw moose early in the morning. Peter spotted a bear and after waiting patiently while it hid out of sight for several minutes, we were rewarded with it wandering down the slope in front of us and then walking a few feet from my window. It wandered under some trees, bumping snow off the branches and looked like a sugar-frosted bear. It then stood up and gave itself a back rub against a small tree that shuddered under the bear’s weight. We spotted a small herd of caribou, quite some distance away, but close enough to see the male’s bloodied antlers from where all the velvet had fallen off.

When we got to the East Fork River bed Peter spotted a wolf, then another, and another. Peter, who’s been driving here for ten years was really surprised to see one, let alone three. When we got to the bridge, we discovered why.

A caribou had been freshly killed, about thirty metres from us and the wolves were taking it in turn to rip it to shreds. When we returned in the afternoon, it was a field day for photographers who were standing at the edge of the river with ten thousand dollar telephoto lenses. Apparently not long after we left, a bear and its two cubs wanted a share of the action. We were pretty lucky. Peter offered a prize to anyone who could spot the next bear and I managed to win that one. We didn’t go all the way into the park, but instead stopped at a visitor centre overlooking the highest mountain in the USA; Mount Denali (McKinley) standing at 20,320 feet. Like most days though, we weren’t overlooking the mountain, but looking at a large cloud covering the mountain. Lastly, we spotted some Dall sheep high overhead on a rocky cliff.

After getting back from the bus trip I headed over to see National Park dog sled team. I miss dogs. A lot of the huskies have eerie clear blue eyes, it’s almost unsettling.