Denali Dispatch

It is our pleasure to present Denali Dispatch, a journal of the goings-on at Camp Denali.

 

Written by members of our staff, Denali Dispatch is an opportunity to peek into life in Denali: notable events, wildlife sightings, conservation topics, recipes from our kitchen, and insights into the guest experience at Camp Denali. Denali Dispatch will carry on through the winter, when we hope to share stories of snowy ski adventures, deep cold, and the events of a small Alaskan community.



Our Idea of a Weekend Getaway

February 05, 2011

“Who looks after Camp Denali and North Face Lodge in the wintertime?”  That’s a question we’re often asked by people curious about winter conditions and precautions, and perhaps, isolation, in the heart of Denali National Park.  The surprising answer is, “Usually no one.”

That’s not strictly true.  We have, over the years, had an extended family of pine martens serving as self-appointed caretakers of North Face Lodge.  There was a Spruce Grouse who made a brief habitation of Room 12, and in the fall of 1999, we had a black bear that took it upon him- or her self to look in on one of the staff dwellings.  Most famously, there was a grizzly that volunteered to inventory the contents of the old warehouse during the winter of 1961.  Unfortunately, it worked itself out of a job by knocking over a glass jar of matches and burning the structure to the ground.  It was not eligible for rehire.

As for Homo sapiens alaskensis, there are only a handful of stalwarts who have spent extended winter periods at the lodges, and just one who can claim an entire winter in residence.  That honor belongs to Ron McKinney.  For the most part, once we hang the shutters and drain the pipes in the fall, and move the computers, file cabinets, and potted plants over the 100 miles to the park entrance, human company in Kantishna gets pretty scarce.

Every so often, however, the stars align for a midwinter lark, er, work trip, to the lodges.  Skiing there takes about a week, and has been done on several occasions by the Coles, Hamms and friends.  Traveling in with dog-sled support can be as quick as three days.  But by far the fastest way is by air.  Each fall, I look forward to the ski-flying season as I change the plane (a 1953 Cessna 170B), over from wheels to skis.  Much like you’d change a wheel on a car, I jack up the plane, remove each wheel, and install a wide-bottomed airplane ski.  When you have good soft powder, landing in a ski plane can be as sublime as sinking into a down featherbed.  And just as quiet.

This past weekend, everything fell into place for a flight to Kantishna.  Weather was fair, temps were mild, and staff member Drew McCarthy was up from Anchorage for a visit.  We were also semi-anxious to check on structures following a magnitude 5.2 earthquake the week before, the epicenter of which was pretty much directly beneath Camp Denali and North Face Lodge.

Wintertime flying, while often very beautiful, is also considerable work, especially when you haven’t got a hangar in which to keep the plane.  It usually begins with plugging in an engine heater the night before, followed by sweeping snow off of wings and fuselage.  Then you load shovel, snowshoes, survival gear, skis, wing and engine covers, extra clothing… the list gets quite lengthy in a hurry.  Fortunately there was just room enough for me and Drew when everything else had been stowed.

About an hour’s flying had us overhead of the Wonder Lake area.  The first order of business is usually a flyby of Pika Hut to verify that the shutters haven’t blown off.  Then a quick dogleg over North Face Lodge to confirm that the stone fireplace chimney survived the earthquake.  Then it’s on to Kantishna to scrutinize the runway conditions and set up for landing.  Saturday proved to be one of those down featherbed days.  We tied down the plane, put the covers on, and transferred gear to a snowmachine and sled that we keep for the purpose.  Then it was off via the road to re-trace the four miles to the lodges.

All in all, we found things to be in excellent shape.  The North Face Lodge spring, which had frozen the previous winter, was delivering a steady output of Alaska’s best water.  One chimney cap had blown off at North Face, and this was quickly remedied with a new one out of inventory.  At both lodges, signs of the earthquake were practically non-existent.  The only hint of seismicity was some spring-form cake pans that had shifted forward on a bakery shelf at Camp Denali, but not fallen.  Drew and I busied ourselves with a short list of reconnaissance projects, like checking the wear of Camp’s hand-made quilts, and confirming dimensions for replacement of the North Face bath fans.  Then it was time for a ski tour up Moose Creek in the last light of the day.

With the good weather forecast to stick around, we spent a very comfortable night thanks to the stoked woodstove in Neversweat cabin.  Morning brought brilliant skies, and so after returning to the airstrip, preheating the airplane, and loading everything back in, we were ready to head back east.  Propane tank shut off: check.  Buildings closed:  check.  Teakettle emptied, woodstove cold, antifreeze in the drain:  Check, check, check.  And we’re off into the crisp, sun-filled Alaskan sky, until next time.

More images of the lodges under a January sky (thanks to trip photographer Drew McCarthy) can be seen on our Facebook page.

Back to blog