-----6:00 in the morning—our newest frequent wakeup time—saw us ready to go a little after 7:00. Our first stop of the day was at a Safeway in Fairbanks to replenish our supply of water, which didn't take that long save for checking out; the store was still opening and there were only a few self-checkout lanes open, which slowed us a bit, but we weren't getting massive amounts. We found a spot in which to stuff the water supply and we hit the road on the Parks Highway southbound.

-----As we caught glimpses of the huge peaks in the Alaska Range that we knew had to be scores of miles away, we kept on our toes for Denali. I kept thinking "okay, that one has to be it," but every turn took us within view of an even taller peak. The cloud cover was not bad and it didn't rain on us, but it was quite chilly, fluctuating between the high 30s and the low 40s with a steady wind.

-----The scenery on the Parks Highway made the trip feel like it took no time whatsoever, and after a precipitous bend around a mountain we found ourselves smack-dab in a heavy conglomeration of hotels and restaurants that constituted the town—technically, census-designated place—of McKinley Park. I'm not sure if a single soul lives there, but it's sure busy, and we're ahead of the heavy tourist season.

-----We donned several extra layers at the visitor center, and soon we were practically Matryoshka dolls of fabric. When it wasn't windy, the parka and even hoodie felt excessive, but it was almost never calm. At the visitor center, we inquired about some trails and decided that we were going to go to the Savage River Alpine trail, one of the newest in the park, which led a strenuous four miles up and over a ridge line, from whence we were promised expansive views alongside the possibility of Dall sheep and caribou. As we went back outside, a large moose burst out of the foliage and was spooked by the people accumulated outside.

-----Denali allows passenger vehicles to drive the first section of the park road, until the pavement stops and it's bus-only from then on. The views of the Alaska Range were tremendous despite the clouds; the mountains were bigger than the clouds and as they passed over, we could see evidence of a recent dusting on the peaks. We turned out to admire the scenery on several occasions as we searched for Denali itself, which spent much of the day in obscurity. (By the end of the day, we'd seen it, but from our vantage point, it didn't seem all that much higher than the epic peaks around it to the point that I’m still not sure which one it was.)

-----The wind began eating away at our layered selves once we exited our vehicle, but we'd been well prepared, and began our ascent alongside a foursome from Fairbanks. What we did not expect here on the twenty-fifth day of May was snow, which came down in small flurries as we'd driven and was packed up to a maximum of around eight inches as we trudged up the trail. The evergreens around us kept us insulated from the wind, but made us especially wary of bear and moose.

-----As we exited the tree line, we began the gradual ascent up the mountain, and the wind began blowing a bit, but it wasn't bad—in fact, I even shed my parka for a spell. The path forward did not have the same grandiose view as the view backwards, where it felt like every peak of the Alaska Range was within sight, but the path was treacherous enough as the sun began to melt the snow into slush and then sloppy mud. Our hiking boots were the real heroes of this story, as they repelled every bit of nastiness that the trail threw our way. We would have made much better time had we not looked back every few minutes to marvel at the view.

-----All of a sudden, things got steeper—much steeper. It was switchback after switchback as the trail climbed higher and higher, and before we knew it, we had to catch our breath for the altitude. The wind began picking up, which meant that our parkas went back on and we bundled our faces up as much as possible. Flurries began flying in, thrown hither and thither by the wind that picked them up from the distant cloud that was laying new snow on the peaks far afield.

-----It was here that a Dutch couple met us on the way back, and they told us that they had been unable to complete the loop because of heavy snowfall on the peak obscuring the trail. We thanked them for the heads-up, but secretly we all harbored a suspicion that we'd somehow deduce the trail. Once we got closer to the summit, we kept on a ridge line that now afforded grandiose views to our left, and we split time between turning our backs to the wind, admiring the view, and looking down at the thin trail that led towards a set of rocky outcroppings at the far end. We were now as far up as the peaks around us, having climbed nearly 2,000 feet when it was all said and done.

-----We should have known better when our Fairbanks hikers left us to go back to their car, but they had announced their plans far previously and thus we thought nothing of it. As we inched our way towards the summit, occasionally consulting each other's opinions and observations to great success, we spotted a small furry creature that we thought looked like a gopher. At first we thought it was a marmot, but after taking a few pictures we realized that it was an Arctic ground squirrel, and our hunt for the trail led us up to it. It was a feisty little thing and more or less coincidentally led us up the trail to the top, at which he began screaming at us.

-----We were not entirely at the summit, but we weren't a far distance from it and nor was it a great deal higher than us. While the footprints of the Dutch couple had long since petered out, we were now at a total loss for where the trail went ourselves. Deep snow banks covered a great deal of the incline, and while there was room to spread out at the top, the drop down was quite precipitous.

-----A couple from the Ukraine had caught up to us, and while the husband's English was better than the wife's, putting our heads together only led to one thing: keep moving along the ridge line, up towards the summit, to try to find a way around the vast snow buildup to what we thought was the trail on the other side. As we got up to a smaller ridge just below the nearly vertical ascent to the summit, we spotted a Dall sheep ... walking up the hill the other way towards us. We froze, but he didn't care much at all and continued nibbling on the scant greenery.

-----Standing stock-still was the worst possible thing for our bodies because the wind just whizzed around us, taking up loose snow and scattering it in drifts. As we watched the sheep pass, we saw another come over the hill ... and then another ... and then two lambs following closely behind their mothers. In all, it was a group of ten, slowly eating their way across the mountain. The closest one got to within about twenty feet of us, but none of them really so much as cared that we were there at all.

-----By the time we could regroup, it was abundantly clear that there was no way to get across towards what we thought was the trail, and though we'd walked around three miles of the four-mile trail, it was to turn into six as we diligently trudged down the mountain from whence we'd come, trying to avoid the worst of the wind as we snaked our way down the switchbacks to the safe zones were the worst gusts were hampered by mountains and forests.

-----On the way back, we saw a group of several more Alaskan-born hikers. We knew that they had to be Alaskans because the lady we talked to was wearing an athletic turtleneck with rolled-up sleeves and no headwear, while we were cold beneath our four layers and two hoods each. She told us that she'd been on the hike a hundred times and there was no way to go past the summit when the snow built up, although she told us that going further up the ridge was totally the wrong way to go.

-----The walk down was brutal. While the beautiful view was now easily seen without turning around—and the clouds had all but cleared out—walking down while so weighted down made it hard to stop on the constant inclines. We avoided frostbite, but it was definitely a threat and we'd likely have gotten some had we stayed much longer at the top.

-----We turned on the heat in the car and warmed ourselves as we drove to check into our cabins. We were sore and hungry, and after putting some stuff in our cabin and cranking up the heater to make it nice and toasty when we got back, we left for Denali Salmon Bake. On the route, we spotted two moose crunching on leaves alongside the road. One was the expected dark brown, while the other was lighter—almost caramel-colored—similar to a moose that we'd spotted on our trip up the Alaska Highway.

-----There are no words that can describe the Denali Salmon Bake. The building itself looks like a couple of wooden shacks that were melted together, and the resulting unholy confederation itself melted into the side of the mountain. There is no surface in the entire building that is flat; everything is on an incline. The windows are taped at the bottom. The glasses slide across the table if you’re not careful. Each room looks like it was built by a drunk architect, or by Willy Wonka if he manifested into the corporeal realm and subsequently went into the seafood restaurant business. Any more slant in any surface would have defied the laws of physics, and as it is, I’m not entirely certain if the bending glass in the windows were abiding by their statutes. Someone threw a building code into a black hole and the Salmon Bake was the result.

-----I couldn’t stop laughing at the incredibly slanted building, but they didn’t make money by advertising their weird construction habits. Their menu was as unusual as their architecture, and we began the meal with a trio of elk sliders. I was expecting something gamey, but it wasn’t the kind of gaminess I expected; there was either spice in it or I had a totally different definition of gaminess. They were all finished off in short order.

-----We also had, as a second appetizer, three small bowls of a seafood chowder that featured clams and salmon, which was very rich, although I must admit a preference towards the more traditional clam chowder of New England. Returning from our New England adventure were oyster crackers, which—for my dad—was very exciting. My main course was halibut tacos, which was surprisingly southwestern in aspects other than the fact that it was … well, a taco. They put two shells on it because it was just that big and piled it up with more cabbage and sauces and other assorted vegetables that there was clearly no way to properly eat one and maintain any shred of dignity. Alongside were corn chips and a blend of refried beans, rice, and corn in a bowl that served as a dip.

-----My parents both got plank salmon, which they said had a citrusy flavor. Before we could say “where’s the dessert menu,” we’d demolished our plates and were thinking of dessert. My dad got a chocolate mousse, as has become his custom. He says that he’s “not a chocolate guy” but makes exceptions for most chocolates save for the extremely dark. My mom and I split a slice of blueberry pie, which was made from local berries and served warm. It was sweet but not overly sweet, with a flaky crust, and was like a wonderful little hug for your mouth.

-----After walking up and down the inclines necessary to exit the building and saying goodbye to our Alabama-born waitress, we headed back to our cabin.

-----Tomorrow: we explore Denali further.