Denali dreams
Photograph from wikimedia.org
One of my colleagues used to keep a large photograph of the tallest peak in North America on his office wall. The gorgeous snow-covered mountain rose brilliantly into a clear sky, lit by low light, perhaps at sunset, given the angle of the light on the mountain. Carefully drawn onto the photograph were several major routes of ascent taken by mountain climbers, mostly in black, with one route highlighted in red. The photograph was a natural discussion starter and most of us who visited that office at one time or another had a conversation with him about the mountain. I had several over the years. It was clear that he had studied that mountain in depth and had poured over that photograph, memorizing details. He had also read widely about expeditions to the mountain and different parties who had successfully summited the peak.
Here’s the rub. Although he had all of that expertise and an obvious love for the mountain, he had never seen the top of the mountain. I don’t just mean that he never successfully climbed the mountain, which is the case. I mean that his eyes never beheld the glory in person that is portrayed in the picture.
When he was finishing his college degree, he was an active outdoorsman and rock climber and had already been on several expeditions that summited mountains in the lower 48. It was on a trip to the top of the Grand Teton that he and his colleagues formulated their plan. They would obtain sponsorships for a summiting of Denali and when they completed that climb, they would have enough recognition to mount an expedition to Everest.
It was from my friend that I learned the word Denali. I had grown up with the English name, Mount McKinley. Denali is the name that is widely used by Alaska locals and the name means “High One” or “Great One.”
The story from that point, once you have understood his great reverence and respect for the mountain, is rather simple. When the climbing party, with all of their equipment reached Talkeetna, it was raining. They sat around for a couple of days before the weather opened up enough for the air taxi to ferry them to the glacier where they set up their base camp. As the plane took off and headed away, the wind picked up as well and the clouds moved back in. The very peak of the mountain was always in the clouds from the point of view of the climbers. As they struggled to set up their tents and sort their equipment, the wind picked up and it started to snow. By the next morning, they had to shovel out the entrances to the tents.
They waited for better weather. They waited for days. They did establish a higher base camp and shuttled most of their equipment to that camp, and they battled winds and whiteout conditions. It was no picnic on that mountain, though they ate their meals in haste, either in their tents our standing outside.
And still they had to wait. They might get a few moments of lifting weather and it would clear up enough to see across the glacier and down to the land below, but they never saw the very peak without clouds and wind blowing snow.
And then they ran out of time. The expedition never got a chance to do any serious climbing. There was a feeling of disappointment as they loaded their gear into the red ski plane to fly back down. Their only consolation was that they had been prudent and safe and no one of the party had experienced frostbite or been injured.
Plans were immediately made to return to the mountain. And then life intervened. One member of the party got married. Another started graduate school. Other climbers got jobs to support their passion for the outdoors. Scheduling became challenging and then impossible. Several members of the group summited the mountain a few years later. My friend was with his wife anticipating the birth of their son, born the same month as the climb.
I, too, have never seen Denali, but it has inhabited my dreams for years. I’ve watched the videos of the Grand Denali tour with a glacier landing offered by Talkeetna Air Taxi. I keep track of the price (currently $390 per person). I have frequently visited the web site of the Alaska Railroad Denali Star Train. I have a copy of the Milepost, the comprehensive guide to driving the Alaska Highway. I keep a map of the highway in our camper, just to inspire the camper and pull it out to study and dream from time to time.
I also know that we could make the best possible plans for a visit to Alaska and that our window of time might occur when the weather obscures the mountain and that I might never see it. It is good to have big dreams in life and to balance them with real experiences and to understand that not every whim of the imagination can become a reality. I know that I’m at an age where I will never gain the strength or skills to be a serious mountaineer. I know that I am capable of imagining trips that I cannot afford to take. I know that circumstances change and that plans that are made also have to change to respond to the realities of this life. Those are all important lessons.
Still, something stirred within me when I read that President Barak Obama announced that the name of the mountain has been officially changed from McKinley to Denali. The President is planning a trip to Alaska soon.
Alaskans have been trying for decades to get the federal designation of the mountain changed to the locally-preferred name. To date their efforts have been blocked. I think that folks in Ohio, McKinley’s home state, have not been thrilled by having his name removed from the maps and official documents. On the other hand it has been more than a century since the 25th President was assassinated and it seems clear that he will not be forgotten by historians. McKinley himself never set foot in Alaska. I have no idea whether or not it was a destination to which he aspired.
I don’t have a photograph on my office wall. But if you see me leaning back in my chair with my hands behind my head and a dreamy look in my eyes, it is possible that I’m having Denali dreams. Whether or not I ever see the mountain remains yet to be revealed.