The seeds of a 2022 camping trip in Denali National Park were planted in our heads by friends who had spent time at Denali’s Teklanika River Campground the previous couple of years. Located at Mile 29.1 of the park’s ninety-two-mile road, a minimum three-night stay is required for anyone driving to the campground in their personal vehicle. After deciding it would, in fact, be nice to spend time deeper inside the park, we began making plans.
The first critical and time-sensitive task was snagging a reservation at the campground for our preferred four-night stay in the latter part of July. This was accomplished in early January after reservations for the summer became available. The reservation process required another decision. Would we be renting an RV or car camping with our trusty, four-season North Face tent? We checked into renting an RV, but at almost $2,000 for five days, we choked at the price. There were no rental discounts for Alaskans during the height of the summer tourist season. So that ended that idea. Tent camping it would be! Little did we know at the time, what a fateful and expensive trip this would turn out to be….
While May and June were two of the driest and hottest months in recorded history in Southcentral Alaska, in mid-July, the great spigot in the sky opened and it rained day after day after day after day into late September. No one who was in Southcentral Alaska during that time was surprised to learn that July, August, and September were three of the rainiest months in recorded history. In fact, after record-breaking snowfalls in December, the year 2022, won the prize for being Southcentral Alaska’s wettest year on record.
Once the rains began in mid-July, tent camping in the park did not seem nearly as appealing as when the campsite was booked five months before. Ten days out from our trip, I began checking the weather forecast and was surprised to find that forecasts were available for the campground itself, along with one for the park as a whole. We still had time to pull the plug on the trip, which we did consider. By the time our departure date arrived, the forecast for just about every place in southcentral Alaska, except the Teklanika River campground, called for lots of rain.
We left Anchorage around 7:00 a.m. on July 25, 2022, with John’s Subaru Outback literally stuffed to the brim, including things (like my day pack) tucked around my feet on the passenger side of the car. The forecast for the campground was hopeful with no rain predicted until around 4:00 p.m. However, that was not the situation in Anchorage, the Matanuska Valley, or the one-hundred twenty-three miles from the Valley to the park entrance.
Driving in constant rain, John kept giving me “the look,” particularly on the stretch of the George Parks Highway between Talkeetna and Cantwell. It wasn’t just that we were driving in rain, the rain was coming down in sheets. While I continued to present an outward, optimistic assessment to John about the weather at the campground, inside, even I feared it would most likely be pouring down rain when we arrived.
After a brief stop at the Denali Bus Depot to pick up our “Tek Pass,” we drove on to the park headquarters where we met a cousin of an Anchorage friend. During our short visit, we learned about her soundscape project. We then continued on our way deeper into the park. After going just a few miles, much to our surprise, shock, and disbelief, the rain stopped. Of course, that afforded me the opportunity to maintain that I had always been confident that the forecast for the campground was correct….
The park’s paved road ends at Mile 15 just before crossing the Savage River. Only park shuttle buses and other permitted vehicles are allowed beyond this point. In all my visits to the park with family and friends over the years, I had only ever seen the park beyond Mile 15 from a shuttle bus. Now, John and I were free to drive at our own pace on the now gravel road, the next 14.1 miles from the Savage River to the Teklanika River campground. Ever mindful, however, that the forecast called for rain to begin in the late afternoon, we chose not to dilly dally along the way. I did, nonetheless, insist on a few photo stops to capture the contrast of the pink fireweed blooms with the lush greens of the surrounding landscape and the brilliant blue sky.
Once we reached the campground and selected our campsite, we first put up our tent and then a 10x10x10 foot “mosquito-free” shelter. By the time the forecast rain began, we had enjoyed dinner at the campsite picnic table, relaxed in the shelter, and slipped into snuggly sleeping bags inside our tent. While it rained a bit during the night, it had stopped by morning.
On Day Two, we used our Tek Pass to hop into seats reserved for us on an 8:00 a.m. park shuttle bus. We then rode the bus as far as possible, which was Mile 43 of the ninety-two-mile park road. In August, the year before, Amgalan and I had taken a shuttle bus from the park entrance to the Eielson Visitors Center at Mile 66 and back. Accessing the visitors center entailed a drive up and over the very narrow and steep Polychrome Pass. The very next day, the road was closed at Mile 43 when the fast-moving Pretty Rocks Landslide made driving up the pass, first too dangerous, and then impossible. The road had remained closed since that time.
The clouds were low as we crossed the Teklanika River and then began the drive up Sable Pass, stopping briefly along the way to enjoy a healthy-looking moose in the willows along the road. At the top of the pass, the clouds were low and the mountains sported fresh snow, which made the fireweed even more beautiful.
While the sky was threatening rain and there was a chill in the air, we were nonetheless excited to first see a grizzly and then a caribou with its impressive rack silhouetted against a rocky mountainside. As the bus dropped down from Sable Pass to the East Fork River, we could see the park road snaking its way across the valley and along the mountainside heading up to Polychrome Pass.
At this point, given the weather, we were unsure which of two options made sense. The first was to get back on the bus at the end of a fifteen-minute rest stop, thereby keeping our seats and returning to our campsite. The other was to disembark and explore, taking our chances of catching another bus later in the day. We were prepared for either option.
Once we arrived at ‘the end of the line’ at the East Fork River bridge, we slipped on our raincoats, grabbed our day packs, and hopped off the bus to further investigate our options. Some visitors were walking on the park’s gravel road up toward Polychrome Pass. After crossing the bridge and talking with a park ranger, we decided to abandon the bus (for the time being) in favor of climbing down a newly-installed staircase to the floodplain below and then hiking along the East Fork River.
There was plenty to see including the river itself, colorful rocks, hardy flowers, and animal tracks in the silty soil, including those of caribou, grizzlies, and best of all, a wolf. As the morning wore on, the weather continued to improve. Along the way, we considered, rather than backtracking along the river to catch another shuttle bus, scrambling up the mountainside to the park road, which was rising ever higher toward Polychrome Pass.
After finding a location that looked doable, we bushwhacked our way up the mountain side, calling out to any bears, until we intersected the park road. As we neared the road, the route we selected became quite steep, requiring me to reach up to grab alder branches to help pull myself up the last couple of feet, and then onto my knees at the side of the road. As I did so, I called out, “I am not a bear!” to a group of startled hikers about twenty feet away.
After John pulled himself up onto the road as well, we surveyed the surrounding landscapes, posed for a photo, and then followed the road another half mile to see firsthand, the Pretty Rocks Landslide. After reaching the “Road Closed” barricades and reading the warning sign about “Hazardous Conditions Beyond This Point” we proceeded with caution to a place that afforded us a view of the now missing road. We did not have to be warned twice to stay back from the edge.
We loved being able to literally walk in the park and explore it at our own pace. The hike down the park road to the bus stop afforded us with beautiful views of the valley and surrounding mountains in addition to a close encounter with a parka squirrel. Back at the river bridge, there were plenty of open seats left on the next bus heading back to the park headquarters. Along the way, we enjoyed views of high peaks in Sable Pass that had been obscured by clouds in the morning.
There were also stops to see more caribou in addition to a lone Dall sheep grazing high up among the rocks in the mountains near Igloo Creek. With that sighting, we had seen the “the big four” mammals (moose, caribou, grizzlies, and Dall sheep) that all park visitors hope to see. Exiting the bus at the Teklanika Campground stop, we had just enough time for dinner before attending a park ranger talk and then crawling inside the tent for a well-deserved night’s sleep.
The following morning (Day 3), it was cold in the tent. Tempting as it was to stay snuggled deep inside our sleeping bags with our heads covered until the outside temperature warmed up, that was not a serious option. We were, after all, in the Teklanika Campground twenty-nine miles inside Denali National Park. Today, we were on a mission to explore this part of the park by mountain bike. After quickly dressing inside the tent and then crawling outside, we were pleased to find significant patches of blue sky overhead.
After breakfast, I made sandwiches before gearing up for our bike ride. Dressed in layers, we wore day packs with our lunches as well as extra clothes…just in case. I fastened my camera with its telephoto lens into a harness on my chest, then placed it inside a plastic rain and dust cover. Last, but not least, we slipped water into the bottle holders on the bike frames, secured bear spray to the belts of our day packs, and fastened our bear “noise makers” (tin cans with bolts inside) to our handlebars. We were now ready to roll!
Pedaling out of the campground, we turned right and began the ride uphill toward the Teklanika Rest Stop. Along the way, I paused to photograph a pond that I had only ever seen through the window of a moving shuttle bus. This particular body of water had always beckoned me for a closer look, since it seem to be ideal place to see a moose. Now, even though no wildlife was there to greet us, it was nice having time to simply enjoy the beauty of the pond and its reflections.
As we biked through the rest stop, where shuttle buses pause so their passengers can take advantage of multiple restrooms in addition to a view of the Teklanika River, I stopped to photograph a bumble bee on fireweed flowers. It was a reminder that nature’s beauty lies not only in the broad expanse of the park, but also at close range as well.
Continuing beyond the rest stop, we peddled up another hill before pausing to check the view of the many braided channels and gravel bars of the Teklanika River and the mountains beyond, before coasting down the long hill to the river bridge. After riding across the bridge, once again taking advantage of our freedom to explore, we stashed our bikes and walked back to the middle of the bridge to see what we could see.
Toward the top of the hill we had just descended, it was obvious that a tour van had spotted something. The vehicle was stopped, its passengers (with binoculars and cameras in hand) were either hanging out the van windows closest to the river or were standing outside the vehicle on the same side. We began scouring with our own eyes, the area where they were looking, eager to find what they spotted. As we suspected (and hoped), it was a grizzly.
We finally saw its light brown coat among the brush adjacent to the river several hundred yards in front of us. From the safety of the bridge, we had the luxury of time to watch the bear for thirty minutes or so, until it hurried across the river and disappeared into the brush on the other side, which was now our side as well.
With the grizzly no longer visible, we once again hopped on our bikes and continued onward. I didn’t recall ever seeing wildlife along this stretch of the road from the Teklanika River to the approach of Sable Pass just beyond the Igloo Campground. It is typically where park shuttle bus drivers put the pedal to the metal to make up time, if they stopped for too long earlier in their trip to view wildlife. As a result, we did not anticipate this part of the road to be that interesting. On the contrary, we found it to be beautiful with views of both nearby and distance mountains. It turns out, as is typically the case, we just needed the opportunity to explore the area at a slower pace, so nature could reveal itself.
Arriving at the Igloo Campground, which is primarily used by backpackers, we found a sheltered area with picnic tables. While it provided a convenient place for lunch, the shade proved to be a bit chilly. So, before leaving the campground, we walked to Igloo Creek, where we relaxed in the sun on boulders warmed by the afternoon sunshine.
Back on the park road, we peddled our bikes another half mile up toward Sable Pass before turning around and heading back to our campsite. Since the ride from the Teklanika River to beyond Igloo Creek had been an uphill, but easy climb, we could now coast most of the way back to the river.
It was now mid-afternoon. The mostly blue sky was accented with beautiful white clouds. However, after about a mile, the only rain cloud in the entire sky found us and released its contents. Glad we were prepared, we stopped long enough to put on raincoats and cover our packs and my camera. Once the rain cloud passed, we paused in the sun to dry out before continuing on to our campsite.
We had thoroughly enjoyed our mountain bike ride. The park’s gravel road provided a hard, and mostly rock-free track. Because of recent rains, dust was not an issue. While we encountered park maintenance vehicles, park shuttle buses, and tour vans, their frequency was such that they weren’t a bother and their presence was not particularly intrusive. It was a small price to pay for the benefit of being able to take our time to stop and explore whenever and wherever the mood struck.
Sleeping in the next morning, Day Four, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before following one of the gravel paths through the campground to the edge of the broad expanse of the Teklanika River. Walking out onto the sun-filled floodplain, I was fascinated by patterns in the silt, which revealed the impressions of once-flowing water in addition to drops of rain from the last storm.
Walking upriver, we decided to climb to the top of a bluff adjacent to the flood plain to check out the view from a higher vantage point. This required picking our way across several shallow clear-water streams that flowed into the brown, fast-flowing and silt-laden river. After successfully negotiating the streams, we scrambled to the top of the bluff, where we found the perfect spot from which to perch and survey the surrounding landscape. Not long afterward, our attention was captured by a moose that crossed the river upstream before disappearing into the trees on the other side.
About ten minutes later, the moose emerged from the forest, across the river from where we sat, and then ran into the river, reaching down with its head to scoop up water at the same time. After first dashing downriver, the moose abruptly reversed course, doubling back the way it came, scooping up more water into it mouth before disappearing back into the forest where it first emerged. We could see with our binoculars that the moose was thin. Its ribs were showing, which did not seem normal at this point in Denali’s short summer. Its behavior was certainly curious.
A short time later, a grizzly appeared and began milling around in the water and at the edge of the forest where the moose had been. While it seemed obvious that the grizzly had caught the scent of the moose and there was a connection between the behavior of both animals, we were not to be privy to the rest of this story.
Walking back to the campground, we followed a trail through the forest, taking time to admire (and photograph) flowers, berries, and mushrooms along the way.
Mid-afternoon, we once again hopped on our mountain bikes and peddled to the campground entrance. This time we turned left onto the park road. It was another pleasant outing with more expansive views of the surrounding landscape.
On our ride back to camp, I noticed that park shuttle buses heading to Mile 43 (the temporary end of the park road) had just a handful of people onboard. After checking the bus schedule, I suggested to John that we peddle back to camp as quickly as possible to see if we could catch the last bus going to Mile 43.
After reaching our campsite and securing our bikes, we literally ran to the bus stop, where we had five minutes to catch our breath before the last bus pulled up. Hopping inside, we couldn’t believe our luck; we were the only passengers. It was a glorious ride. The driver, like us, never tired of seeing more wildlife and how the scenery looked at a different time of the day. On the return drive, near Sable Pass, a caribou trotted in front of the bus for several hundred yards before veering off the road and sprinting across the tundra.
After packing up camp on our final morning (Day Five), we took two hours to drive the fourteen miles back to the Savage River Bridge. Along the way we enjoyed views of Denali, which was partially obscured in clouds, in addition to another close encounter with a caribou that walked right past our car.
Not yet ready to leave the magic of the park, after crossing the Savage River at Mile 15 and hitting pavement once again, we took time to hike the four-mile Savage Alpine Trail. As the trail ascended ever higher, we were rewarded with views of the Savage River Valley, the last of the summer’s wild flowers, ferns emerging from a weathered boulder, a parka squirrel alert for any danger, the various greens of the alpine tundra, another view of The Great One, and time for personal reflection. Arriving home in Anchorage after midnight, we collapsed into bed with visions of the park still in our heads.
On the first day of our adventure, I stated that “Little did we know at the time, what a fateful and expensive trip this would turn out to be….” During our drive home, we discussed how nice it would be at this point in our lives to have someplace warm, dry, and up off the ground at the end of a day of hiking or biking.
One thing led to another and a few weeks later, we surprised ourselves (and our friends) by making a deposit on a small fifth-wheel trailer. Picking it up in July 2023 in Chilliwack, British Columbia, where it will be built, I will have my first opportunity to drive the Alaska Highway, which will prove to be another interesting adventure.