North to Alaska Part 2 – Heong (Aug 2002)

Part 2 – in which Heong has a close encounter with a grizzly, names a mountain and confronts a caribou.

We’d be exploring Denali National Park itself in the next few days, but as a warm-up, we walked up Mt. Healey, a 6,000 ft peak nearby. Strangely, the others followed me on the path despite my having told them that I had an innate ability for getting lost. I suppose it could be because the two Swiss girls misunderstood me and tagged along behind, whereupon the others followed. To exploit my new-found leadership ability, I took the more direct rout at the first fork, which lead to a steep 20m wall. It looked impassable, but as un-elected leader I couldn’t possibly admit to a rout finding error, so I scrambled my way up the rocks and scree. The others followed without questioning my sanity until two of them got stuck halfway. It turned out that they’d never scrambled before. A delicate rescue operation soon had them up safely, whereupon it was an easy ridge walk to the summit. Despite the drizzle, we could see the vast expanse of mountains and rivers to the west, and looked forward to heading there the next day.

As we descended on the safer path through the woods, it occurred to us there could be a bear lurking around, waiting for us to trample on its paws so that it would have an excuse to maul us. So we started singing hits from the Sound of Music, altering a few words to suit the circumstances (‘Do, a deer’ became ‘Do, a bear’) with, we hoped, Julie Andrews approval. However we met a couple of Canadian hikers who told us solemnly that our singing was too melodious and could attract bears rather than repel them. So, although I assumed bears were tone deaf, we switched to singing different keys – simultaneously. The resultant cacophony would probably win the equivalent of the Turner Prize for modern music. But it did the trick no bear dared approach us.

That night we had our first close encounter at our campsite. I was just dozing off in my sleeping bag when I heard what sounded like someone heavy moving around our tents, stopping occasionally. Then the sound of a tent zip being opened, and a gasp before the zip closed hurriedly. Still thinking I was dreaming, I remembered we’d been toasting marshmallows by the campfire, and hoped none had been left lying around. As always in bear country, all our food, cooking equipment, dishes and cutlery as well as toiletries had been packed away in the van, but my skin still smelly faintly of soap after my wash. In the morning, we discovered the truth: our campsite had a visitor and it was a grizzly. I wasn’t the only one who heard it prowling around, but only the German bloke was brave enough to peer outside his tent. He described it as a giant shadow with a hump – unmistakably a grizzly that we confirmed by checking its footprints against the guidebook. It didn’t hang around for long, not finding any food (apart from ourselves – possibly) and strolled off to check the other campsites. But fortunately, everyone staying at the campground had either kept vulnerable stuff in bear-proof containers or locked out of sight in vehicles, otherwise the bear would have kept coming back to human sources of food and eventually shot.

We took the bus into Denali National Park despite the awful weather: the rain turned to snow but the driver kept our spirits up telling us to call out if we spotted any wildlife. She’d then stop so we could all take photos. Despite the limited visibility, by the time we reached our furthest stop (mile 66 – Edison) we’d seen three grizzlies (one of the4m crossing the road, oblivious to the bus a few meters away), several caribou and moose, red foxes, gyr falcons and golden eagles, and learned a lot about them from our driver – in fact it was she who spotted most of the animals, despite having to dodge rocks and potholes on the unpaved road. We weren’t allowed to get out of the bus when watching the animals, but there were several stops along the way where toilet blocks were situated. Everything else was pristine wilderness – miles and miles of tundra, mountains and riverbeds as far as the eye could see. And we could get off and walk anywhere; we could even camp out overnight (or several nights) if we had a backpacking permit (which we didn’t, they were like gold dust, snapped up first thing in the morning by those who’d already been camping for several days). But like many day hikers, we bought bus tickets for two days: the first for reconnaissance, checking out where we wanted to walk, the second for the walk itself (the return bus ride to Eielson took nearly a whole day).

We struck lucky with the weather next day: the clouds lifted at dawn and Mount McKinley, eighty miles away, could be clearly seen, towering above everything else. It was truly an amazing sight. Denali National Park is certainly an area of extremes – blue sky and sunshine today raised the temperature twenty degrees centigrade higher than yesterday. We picked an interesting looking un-named peak in the Polychrome range to climb: chances were it had never been climbed before, so it would be nice to bag a virgin peak. The driver dropped us off on the road and we set off with our rucksacks, feeling like real adventurers. The 1:200,00 maps that we bought at the VAC were too small-scaled for planning climbs: our intended route turned out to be too difficult up a scree slope, so we walked further round and found a grass slope to climb on. The only problem was we couldn’t see what lay beyond the grass, because the slope was convex. Still the unknown was all part of the fun. We fanned out before stepping on the tundra to avoid killing the delicate grass and creating a path and leaving a permanent scar on the landscape. Underneath the tundra is permafrost, which is why it is so easily damaged.

After bushwhacking through dense brush, we clambered up the grass until the slope flattened out. From here on it was all jagged rock and scree, plus snow patches. The reddish-brown rock (hence the name polychrome) was nerve-racking to scramble on as it broke off so easily; no holds could be trusted, even big ones – further evidence that no human had ever set foot up here. I imagine that this is what Crib Goch would look like today if thousands of boots hadn’t trampled on its slopes, knocking off all the loose flakes. Finally we gained the knife-edge summit ridge. Like Crib Goch it was difficult to ascertain where the highest point is, but it was too risky to proceed further. So we satisfied ourselves that we’d made the first ascent of an unnamed peak in Alaska, height 1,530m according to my altimeter. We felt we’d earned the right to give it a name – K1, because K2 needs a younger brother.

The views were spectacular, but we didn’t want to hang around too long on crumbly rock, so we descended to the grass level for lunch and sunbathing. A herd of caribou was walking along a riverbed far below, and we also spotted a grizzly further away by the time we’d descended from the mountain, it was still mid-afternoon. While most of the group took the bus back to the Denali Hotel’s bar, the non-alcoholics amongst us went on a walk beside the river – away from the bear. The herd of caribou seemed to be following us and one in particular came over our way. We knew a moose would charge if it felt threatened, but didn’t know if caribou did. We altered course, but it kept following until we stopped. After we’d stood our ground for several minutes, it took a few disdainful sniffs of the air and walked away. Relieved, we waited until the herd had moved on before heading back to the road to catch the next bus.

Just outside the park gates the bus stopped suddenly. The driver told us a moose and her calf was blocking the road, causing a small traffic jam. We all rushed to the front to take photos through the windscreen. A couple of foolhardy, or ignorant, tourists got out of their cars and snapped away with their cameras, but our driver shouted at them to get back in before the moose charged. Fortunately the moose remained calm and turned round, leading her calf up the road and into the woods. Later we found out that a grizzly had been stalking the calf and she’d decided that the road was the safest place to be! The excitement over, we all met up at the hotel for drinks, and told the others what they’d missed. That evening, a group of young Americans joined us at our campfire where we ate, sang and got drunk late into the night. And no sign of the grizzly from the previous night – perhaps the sight of so many inebriated humans scared it off.