"I reject your reality, and substitute my own." -Adam, Mythbusters

We recently went back to Denali, to show the visiting relatives a little of Alaska. The choice given to them was to head up north, toward the Arctic Circle, or to head to Denali. Denali, being a big mountain, won over the concept of a line that's way far north. I mean, without surveying it, how would you know you had been there? Sure, there would might be a sign, but what does that really prove? That you visited the sign that some guy put up to tell you that you've been to the Arctic Circle? That takes a lot of trust. And, the roads are bad. Which really says something since most roads in Alaska might have been paid for by dentists so they can drum up a few bucks replacing fillings. So, we headed south. Above is the bridge over the Nenana River near the Denali National Park entrance. Below is the raft launching facility into the Nenana. Steeper than it looks. I didn't measure, but it looked to be about forty feed down. Nearly straight down.



Getting to Denali was nice. Part of living in Fairbanks is like being on the television show Survivor. You and a group of other folks walk around naked are pretty physically isolated from the outside world, and Mark Burnett follows you around with cameras all of the time. Forget the Supreme Court, I just want Jeff Probst out of my bedroom.

Alaska is like a reality show. Denali is one big reality set. So, we went up to visit some of the reality crew at Denali.

If you're coming to the park from the north, the first think you visit are a large number of tourista gift shops and hotels. You can stay in a wonderful hotel (pictured below) on a hillside. Quite a marvelous vista, and that's just looking at the hotel. I would definitely be worried about falling out of bed at this place.



Most of the gift shops were getting ready to close when we got up there; some already were closed. The clerk I talked to came up in summer, and had done so for 17 years, to sell t-shirts and fuzzy bear slippers. He spent the rest of the year in Arizona. Now, I might be a caveman, but though he's logged a lot of time here, I don't think you can be called a local if you spent every summer up here. At some point, you've got to get to winter, or you're as real as a FEMA official before a disaster. We bought stuff at the gift shop. Signs around the gift shop indicated it was GOING OUT OF BUSINESS. Further conversation with the clerk revealed the reality: FOR THE WINTER. Most of these shops are open for exactly four months. Yet, mortgage payments are longer. Therefore, profits during that three month period must be good. I actually did find some bargains at the shop, and bought The Boy a compass to which the idea of "North" was only a passing suggestion. Its matching thermometer seemed to understand temperature a bit better, but it was always 80F in the car, since the thermometer never left The Boy's sweaty palm. And, whatever direction he was facing was always north. Not bad.

So, the crew was packing up for the winter, to head to the places they came from, to come back next year for more.

Next: The Visitor's Center From Beyond