Only in Alaska: Flight-seeing Mt. McKinley

by Catherine Bodry on

Yesterday we wrote about the tallest mountain in the world: Mt. McKinley (better known as “Denali”). Now, how to view this mighty peak? If you want to see the summit, you have two options: One, you could climb the mountain. But if the training and heights and gear and time are a bit too much for you, then consider a second option: a flight tour.

In both Denali Park (the village just outside the national park that houses all the visitor services) and the small town of Talkeetna, which serves as the base for all climbers making summit attempts, flight tour operators abound. You’ll have several options to choose from when deciding on a tour. Some will not only buzz the summit, but also land on one of the mountain’s many glaciers. If you want to get really adventurous, you could try a helicopter tour; many of these also include glacier landings.

On my recent tour of Alaska, I signed up for a basic summit viewing flight tour through Denali Air. The ten-seater propeller Piper was much, much smaller than any plane I’ve ever been on, and the turbulence on take-off and landing was palpable. We all wore headsets with microphones, and, once we hit 12,000 feet, oxygen masks. The unpressurized cabin also required heat, and the pilot cranked it up (the temperature outside was around 25F below zero).

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The pilot flew us within a mile or two of the summit, though we felt like we were only a few hundred feet away. Besides pointing out the West Buttress and the Wickersham Wall, he also showed us the 14,000ft base camp – a minuscule smattering of several dozen tents.

A flight tour of Denali doesn’t come cheap, but it’s hard to put a price on circling the summit of the world’s tallest mountain. You can expect to pay several hundred dollars for a two-hour tour, and even more for options like a glacier landing. It doesn’t matter whether you fly out of the park or Talkeetna; the summit looks the same no matter which direction you fly in from. Pop a Dramamine if you suffer from motion sickness, and don’t forget your camera!

My trip through Alaska was sponsored by Princess Cruises, but the ideas and opinions expressed in this article are all my own.

Only in Alaska: The tallest mountain in the world

by Catherine Bodry on

Can you name the tallest mountain in the world? Did Mt. Everest just pop into your head? If so, you’re close – but not totally correct.

Mt. Everest, at 29,029ft, is the highest mountain in the world. But Everest’s base is way up on the Tibetan Plateau at 17,000 feet. So although this mountain reaches an elevation higher than any other on the planet, its base-to-summit height is actually closer to 12,000 feet.

If we measure from base to summit, Alaska’s Mt. McKinley (known locally by its native name Denali, or “the high one”), is the tallest mountain in the world. (Caveat: the folks in Hawaii might take issue with this, as Mauna Kea stretches over six miles, though only 13,796 feet of those are above water.)

But Denali’s base sits near 2,000 feet, giving this mountain a rise of 18,000 feet. In fact, Denali has an entire wall that stretches longer than many mountains at 13,652 feet. Wickersham Wall, as its called, is one continuous drop – and yes, people have skied it. Crazy people. Another fun fact about Denali is that it actually has two summits. The South Summit is the taller of the two, and naturally the one most climbed. The North Summit is no shorty at 19,470 feet, but is often ignored by those collecting peaks. When it comes to conquering mountains, elevation definitely matters.When it comes to seeing the tallest mountain in the world, North Americans are in luck. The peak can be viewed from afar in Anchorage, Alaska, the biggest city in the state. The best accessible views, however, are out of Talkeetna, a small town about a two-hour drive from Anchorage. This tiny town also serves as the base for the climbers who come to make summit attempts on Denali, so you can chat up those folks with crazy sunglasses tan lines about their experiences.

Coming up next: flight-seeing Mt. McKinley.

Only in Alaska: Welcome to the 49th state

by Catherine Bodry on

Alaska is one of those places where your expectations are met and often exceeded: the mountains are gargantuan and they’re everywhere, there are moose wandering the cities, and folks still run trap lines and live in log cabins. Yes, people still mush dogs (an Iditarod champion even lives in my small town), and many Alaska Natives still practice subsistence living.

Though the stereotypical Alaska is alive and kicking, there’s a whole lot more to the state. Environmental issues such as climate change and Pebble Mine, the political scene in 2008 (remember Sarah Palin? We’ve still got her), and an 800-mile pipeline that supplies a sizable sip of oil to the rest of the country all make Alaska more than simply a vast and beautiful place where hairy hippies live in off-the-grid harmony.

I hope to highlight some of the quirky qualities of living in or visiting Alaska – and there are plenty. Here are some stats, just to get you started:

  • Alaska is the largest state in the US. It’s more than twice the size of Texas, which means that if you cut Alaska in half, Texas would be the third largest state. In general, it’s about the one-third of the size of the continental contiguous US.
  • Though it’s not the least populated state (that would be Wyoming), it’s the least densely populated. There’s just under one square mile per person.
  • The population is approaching 600,000. Around half that number lives in Anchorage (279,000), and another 35,000 are in Fairbanks. The state capital, Juneau, has 31,000 residents, while Ketchikan, Sitka, Homer, Soldotna, Wasilla, and Seward collectively add roughly another 40,000. That leaves only 215,000 residents scattered across a massive sweep of land. It can be pretty quiet up here.
  • It’s the only state with a capital that’s not accessible by road.
  • Alaska has the US’s largest national park (Wrangell-St. Elias, 13 million acres), national forest (Tongass, 17 million acres), second-largest national forest (Chugach, 5.5 million acres), and the highest mountain (Mt. McKinley [locals call it ‘Denali’], 20,320 ft).
  • Though English is the official language, it is still possible to hear Yupik and Iñupiaq spoken. It’s not common in the cities, but in rural villages many residents still use their native languages.

With the widest spaces, the highest peaks, a somewhat surprising political influence, and a romantic place in Americans’ imaginations, it’s no wonder that Alaska receives $1.6 billion in tourist dollars. But if you can’t afford the trip this summer, I hope to provide a virtual tour of some of unique aspects of the state. Stay tuned!

A Long Weekend in Denali National Park

by Catherine Bodry on

There are a few ways to experience Denali National Park and Preserve. One is to arrive like a rajah on the second floor of a domed rail car or lofty motor coach, and stay at one of the plush corporate lodges. From there you can book a number of excursions that include flight seeing, river rafting, and guided hikes and tours.

Or you can arrive independent of commercial companies, bus into the park, and backpack through terrain absent of trails but full of grizzlies, caribou, and panoramic views.

Our approach was a compromise between the two options above. A good friend who works for one of the large tour companies got my husband and I free round-trip tickets for the train as a gift for our one-year anniversary. While the tourists arrived from their hotels via motor coach, we parked our car in downtown Anchorage and boarded with large packs. From there it was a spectacular 8-hour ride to the park. The sky was cloudless, and Mt. McKinley (“Denali” or just “The Mountain” to locals) was looming — a rare sight.

After we disembarked we took a shuttle to Riley Creek Campground, just inside the park boundaries. We walked in, but were clearly outsiders; the campground was full of RVs and campers. We couldn’t find any bear-proof storage bins so we left our food outside the tent and hoped for the best. Not the smartest thing to do, but I figured if there had been any bear problems we would’ve heard about them. It turns out that our biggest problem was aggressive and fearless squirrels.

The next morning, our only full day in the park, we caught a 9:30 a.m. “shuttle” (read: school bus) that took us on a several-hour journey to the Toklat River, just over 50 miles in. Along the way our driver stopped for caribou, eagles, and one large but distant grizzly. The park road, 91 miles long, is unpaved and only open to shuttles; the ride is dusty and bumpy, but one of the coolest and easiest ways to access Alaska’s backcountry. You buy a ticket for as far in as you’d like to go and can get off and on wherever you want.

We arrived at the Toklat just after 1 p.m., and since it was such a perfectly warm and sunny day decided to take a hike up an enticing valley across the river.

We crossed the river, filled our water bottles from a bubbling spring, snapped the following photos,

and went on our wary way. We followed a glacial stream up the steep valley until it became more of a canyon. As we climbed, the orange walls became steep and towering and when we looked back, the top of Denali rose heavily above the mountains (see first photo).

It was one of those rare perfect Alaskan days — the sun was warm, there was a slight breeze, and no bugs. We found a patch of meadow and took a short nap before continuing up the canyon. We reached a surreal-looking landscape where the stream we’d been following split and flowed from several sources. This was our stopping point.

Since we had to make the last bus out of the park at 7 p.m. we didn’t have time to scale one of the higher ridges, much to Lael’s disappointment. Reluctantly, we made our way back down the creek, across the river, and on a waiting school bus. Back at camp we devoured our pasta and were in bed far earlier than is normal.

It turned out that our glorious weather was short-lived — it began raining sometime during the night and when we woke up everything was soggy. I peeled my damp pants on over my sweaty, dusty skin and made my way through the rain to the nearby general store, where I indulged in a latte and hot shower ($4 each). Civilization was never too far away. We boarded the train back to Anchorage later that morning, scrubbed and happy.