Sunday, August 14th, 2022.
Denali National Park, Alaska.
Pilot and I wake up to a beautiful, rainless morning. Take short walk to the river, coffee and breakfast at the campsite, then head out. There's a hiking trail just down the road. We get out and stroll through the majestic valley.
As it turns out, dogs are not allowed on the trails, a despicable aspect of American National Parks that I had forgotten about. It's an easy hike, a loop less than a mile. I pretend not to see the sign. I get a mild chiding from a woman who says she left her dog in the car. I feign innocence, smile, and keep going. Pilot's a good kid, and I am a responsible dog mama. We won't hurt anything in the next ten minutes of rebellious rule-breaking.
I secure a site at tonight's campground: Riley Creek. It's huge, full of people. I think I see an old ex-boyfriend, the one who used to live in Juneau. I can't be certain--it's been years. Nevertheless, I claim a spot as far away from that site as possible. I have a history of choosing narcissistic and abusive mates. That's all it is, though, now, history. But I don't want to go back and revisit any of those bad choices. Not while I'm on this amazing adventure.
According to the map there's a trail near the visitor center that's dog-friendly. We hike it for a few minutes, but it's disappointing. Just a wide gravel jogging trail lined with tall trees. No view. No sun. Echoes of traffic and tourism all around.
It's a beautiful day, and as much as I want to hike, I'm not about to leave my buddy alone in the car. This is his adventure, too.
The DNP brochure says nothing about dogs not being allowed on the road.
So we hike it.
We don't see any wildlife, but the air is fresh and the wind invigorating. We hike to the end of the line, the Eielson Visitor Center. The road goes all the way through the park, but right now only park buses are allowed on it to shuttle hikers to trailheads and viewpoints. We stop off at a picnic area to enjoy the view. Apparently dogs aren't even allowed to walk around here. I make a point of not letting Pilot's feet touch the precious ground.
We eat some snacks and admire the view.
Then we begin our trek back to the car and see it all from the opposite direction.
The road is busier on the way back. Maybe it's rush hour in Denali. Every minute or so we have to step onto the gravely shoulder to let vehicles pass. I start noticing chunks of old road, presumably leftovers from the last repaving. I think they'll make great souvenirs, so I collect some. More than I'll need. Want one?
I have sad feelings about missing out on the trails, but no regrets about not leaving Pilot behind. After dinner my buddy and I take a long, slow drive back down the road we hiked today. The sun is out, and it's a glorious golden hour that lasts forever in the Alaskan summer evening.
We soak it up.
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