This past August I met up with my best friend in Anchorage, Alaska to start our week long adventure hiking and road tripping up and down the state. She moved out to Oakland, California two years ago while I remained in Boston, and we figured it would be a great adventure to have a reunion someplace we’ve never visited before. Since Alaska was on both of our bucket lists, we thought it would be the perfect destination. After flying in to Anchorage and spending the first night at a local hostel, we drove 5 hours up to Denali National Park where we spent three nights camping within the park and hiking as much as possible. The highlight of the park was the Savage Alpine Trail, a 4 mile point-to-point hike that gains 1,000 feet within the first mile. At its highest point, the trail reaches 4,116 feet. When choosing which end to start at, we tapped into the knowledge of the experienced campground hostess, an elderly woman who spends half her year living on the campground in her jetstream, and the other half in Florida. She seemed like the kind of woman who would be a warm den mother, but threaten her babies and she would not think twice about taking you out, so we felt we could trust her. Via her recommendation, we decided to take the bus from our campsite to the far end of the trailhead, which would allow us to end our hike just across the street from the campground. Though it’s the steeper route, it would prevent us from having to wait for a bus to take us back.
After the bus dropped us off at the last stop, we walked over a bridge along the Savage River, which was
filled with large caribou basking in the crisp water. A sign to the right of us read ‘Savage Alpine Trail’ and pointed straight up, and up, and up. We immediately realized the problem with starting a hike near treeline. It meant we could see exactly what we were getting into. The entire side of the mountain was completely devoid of trees. The highest shrubbery only reached my chest, which, as a 5’2” person, isn’t very impressive. Although we could see that immediate 1,000 foot gain, at least we could see if a giant bear was coming our way. The joys of the wild state of Alaska.
We began our hike up the side of the unnamed mountain, the only thing guiding us being a narrow dirt path that curved around a cliff and disappeared in the distance. As we climbed, taking breaks here and there to ‘hydrate’ (a.k.a. catch our breath), chubby squirrel-like creatures popped out of the bushes, scurried over to us, gave us a look, and scurried away. 
I didn’t know whether or not to be insulted by their side-eye or relieved I wasn’t robbed by a rodent. Twenty minutes into our climb, we arrived at a ridge covered in boulders and loose gravel that required careful footing. My hands and legs shook with fear as I made my way across, ever so slowly. With the wind whipping, I took a second to gather myself and looked out across the valley at the Alaska Mountain Range. With very little cloud coverage, I could see the immensely beautiful Mount Denali in all its snow-capped glory. Suddenly, my fears diminished as I breathed in the spirit of the mountain. Towering at a whopping 20,310 feet, it is the tallest mountain in North America and the most stunning one I have ever seen.
As the wind died down, we continued across the ridge with little issue. Soon the trail turned to switchbacks and we were able to keep our eyes half on our footing and half on the stretch of mountains that were splayed out in front of us. One would think that I would
feel insignificant in such a vast, untouched landscape, but instead I felt like I was part of something bigger. Often times, humans are the dominant feature in their world. We live in towns and cities filled with landscapes that were unnaturally manipulated or created by humans, thus making us the regnant feature, but in Alaska, standing on the side of a mountain, humans took their place in nature, and thus I felt like an important piece in a much bigger world. This feeling stayed with me as we reached the summit, which wasn’t marked with any sign or cairn. It just was the point when the trail stopped going up and instead began to guide you down the other side. Though it felt a bit anticlimactic, it fit with the rest of the hike because this wasn’t a place to conquer mother nature, but a place to experience it in all of its glory.
The descent was a lot more gradual than the ascent and soon the shrubbery was up to my shoulders. We crossed over wooden planks and through bushes
filled with colorful wildflowers. All throughout the hike, I kept a keen eye out for bears, much like a tourist would keep a fierce eye out for celebrities when visiting Hollywood. With no encounters thus far, I had put my bear bell away, but I still kept watch with my bear spray readily available. Soon after we crossed the planks, I spotted a large brown lump down by the river, about 100 yards from us. When it moved up the river a bit, we knew it was an extremely large grizzly bear. Since we were heading that way, I immediately took my bell out and rang it like a crazy woman. As we got closer and closer to the river, we became engulfed in a forest of trees. If the bear wanted to hunt us, it very easily could. Later that night at a ranger talk, we learned that a grizzly bear should never be bigger than the top of your pinky finger. If it is, you are way too close to it. When we saw the bear, it was the size of my fist. We speed-walked our way out of the forest, dodging trees and roots, and safely made it back to the campground.
Though we saw a lot of amazing and interesting sites throughout our week in Alaska, this hike provided me with a true sense of the Alaskan wilderness. It was hard, rough, rugged, dangerous, and spectacular in the best possible ways.
Memoirs From The Trails 