After leaving Anchorage, I drove towards Denali, spending one night sleeping in a pull off on the side of the road. Because the car I rented was a Nissan Sentra, it was too small to stretch my legs out in. I was pretty stiff in the morning and eager to stretch and hike when I arrived at the visitor center at Denali National Park that next morning.

I spoke with the Rangers and learned about some great hikes. The people who staff these national treasures are fairly knowledgeable and quite helpful. I hope we still have both the parks and the people working in them for many generations to come.

I passed many people on my way up to a lookout, which was incredibly windy. The Ranger had told me I could continue down the ridge, and so even though everyone else I saw on the trail turned around at the lookout, I continued up the ridge for another few miles. It was spectacular.

When I was talking to the Ranger, she told me it would be beautiful with fall colors. I admit I kind of poo pooed it telling her, “I’m from Vermont. I’m used to amazing fall colors.” Little did I know the mountains of Alaska with their short vegetation could rival the maple trees of Vermont. The bearberry covering the ground was a brilliant scarlet. The blueberries and other low shrubs had a tint of orange and the alders down below were flaming bright yellow. In addition, the path was lined with lowbush blueberries, cranberries, and crowberries, which added their blues, reds and blacks to the mix of colors. I kept turning in awe and gratitude, taking in the beauty of that place.

When I reached an area that would have required a rock scramble over a narrow ridge, I sat and watched a marmot watching me. After a bit I was shivering from the cold, so I reluctantly left that beautiful place, stopping often to pick berries. I thought I had a clear view down the ridge so was surprised when I came around a bend and almost bumped into a black bear. Luckily, she had no interest in me and stepped off to the side of the trail, allowing me to get by without incident. That night, I drove into the park and spotted many very large moose.

I sat at a pull out that was supposed to have a view of Denali, but the great mountain was shrouded in clouds. I cooked and ate my dinner waiting for Denali to show itself. It never did and eventually I fell asleep there in my car, listening to rain drumming on the roof.

In the morning I did a few more hikes, including one along the Savage River and another that took me into the Alpine regions. I was thrilled to spot Dal sheep, marmots, ermines, alpine squirrels and more on these hikes. I again spent the evening waiting for Denali to show to no avail. But rather than being disappointed, I appreciated what was there. The clouds created beautiful lighting in the mountains.

I hadn’t decided exactly what I was going to do from there, but when I woke up in the rain, I thought it would be a good day to drive towards Fairbanks. The Aurora forecast was predicting a high probability for northern lights, although the weather made it less likely. Still, I followed my instinct saying I needed to head to Fairbanks. It was interesting seeing how the landscape changed dramatically as I drove north. The mountains fell away and for many miles I drove through flat boreal forest.

John, who I had met towards the end of my PNT hike, told me about a great visitor center in Fairbanks and Steph had told me about a bird refuge so I decided those were the two places I would head to first. I was grateful at the way this unplanned trip was working out day by day, enhanced by conversations I had with people I met along the way.

The visitor center had many interesting exhibits, and the woman working there was incredibly kind. When I explained what I was doing, she told me I could go into the handicap bathroom where there was a private sink I could use for bathing and washing clothes. I declined her offer but was moved by her kindness. After filling some containers with water, I went to the bird refuge where I cooked and ate dinner while watching the many water fowl come and go.

Before sunset, I started up to Murphy’s Done, which is a popular spot in Fairbanks from which to view the northern lights. A number of people drove up after me, and together we sat watching the sun go down and the beginnings of northern lights on the horizon. The clouds were too thick to get a great view, so around midnight most of the people left. I could tell the clouds were moving and I suspected there might be a clearing later on so I decided to sleep in my car on top of Murphy’s Dome. When I woke at 2 AM to pee, I was rewarded with a good showing of the aurora borealis. While it wasn’t as spectacular and multicolored as it sometimes is, I was quite satisfied and grateful with what I was seeing. Watching the light dance across the sky was truly stunning.

In the morning, I had a great sunrise and was thrilled to pass a farmers market when driving into Fairbanks. I picked up some fresh vegetables, looking forward to having a fresh salad for the first time in many days. While chatting with a wood carver and his wife, I mentioned I was a weaver. They then told me about an art exhibition of natural dying they thought I would enjoy, so I headed over to Pioneer Park where they told me I would find it.

From the moment I stepped into the doors of the exhibit, I was glad I went. Seeing all the gorgeous items made with naturally died fibers, including wool, silk and salmon skin, reawakened my love of dying, spinning, and weaving, which had been wounded because of things my ex said and did during the divorce.

After taking in the beauty of the art exhibit, I ate a wonderful salad from my purchases at the farmers market. I then spent the afternoon walking around this 44 acre historical park in Fairbanks. It had one of the best playgrounds for kids I’ve ever seen. Pioneer Park also consisted of many refurbished historical buildings as well as a number of museums depicting areas of Alaskan history including aviation, railroads, mining, native people, the gold rush and dog sledding. I hadn’t planned on stopping at this park. In fact I didn’t even know about it before that morning, but it was the perfect thing for me to do on a day when I was dragging from lack of sleep the night before. It again confirmed for me that just taking one step in front of the other, and focusing on what was in front of me would be enough, especially when I was learning to fully appreciate what I had and not be disappointed with what I didn’t have.

I returned to Murphy’s dome that evening and while I did not get a repeat of northern lights, I again chose not to be disappointed. Not having a second display of northern lights meant each time I woke up and saw nothing, I was able to go back to sleep and catch up on what I had lost in sleep the evening before.

Because the weather looked rainy for the next many days, I decided to head down to Anchorage. I had received a message online from a woman I had never met before who had found me on the Pacific Northwest Trail Facebook page. She told me she lived in Anchorage and could offer me a place to stay. I’ve been trying to take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way, and after four nights of sleeping in a cramped Nissan Sentra, I thought a chance to stretch my legs out after a good shower sounded like a great idea. I texted Grace and told her I’d arrive that night. I knew I wanted to drive south to Seward and the Kenai Peninsula so going back towards Anchorage was not going out of the way.

I had a fantastic time with Grace and beyond, but for that story you’ll have to wait for the next blogs.

As always, thanks for reading.

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