About a month after the excitement of the hot springs hike, I decided it was time to go hiking again.  One of my kids’ favorite places is the Savage River down in Denali National Park.  The places you can hike are limited only by your physical ability (and bears), but for those of us who lack imagination there are also two trails.  The first is a roughly 2 mile loop that crosses the river twice.  The second is about four miles long, and takes you up a rock face and over a mountain.  Since we’d done the river loop last year, I wanted to try the alpine trail.  

Now, I know you’re shaking your head, but I was at least *incrementally* smarter than last time.  First off, it's much shorter than the Chena Hot Springs hike.  Second, I was not planning to do the whole trail, especially since we would have the kids with us—I figured we would go halfway and then turn around so we were back at the car before anyone started whining.  We’d ooh and aah at the scenery, feel superior to some of it, and then get burgers before driving home.  Simple.

Despite my earlier performance and full knowledge of our children’s lack of physicality, Rick wanted to hike the whole thing… then turn around and hike back to the car.  Obviously I wasn't the only one with a bad memory.  I privately thought this was a craptastic idea, but I agreed we’d try the trail before making any decisions. (Full disclosure: this was actually not a concession made in good faith, since I totally planned to object to the full hike.  I'd throw the kids under the bus as an excuse and he'd never know the truth.  Foolproof....except for the blog.)

We got up a few days later and headed down to Denali.  It’s only a two hour drive, and the park is beautiful.  If you ever get the chance, go.  It’s definitely worth the trip.  We’ve gone seven or eight times in the last two years and I haven't really been a park person before Alaska.  I particularly recommend going in the spring before the official season opens.  You can drive thirty miles into the park instead of the normal fifteen, the tourists haven’t swarmed yet, and the animals are waking up.  

We were welcomed to the Savage River by a cheeky raven who shamelessly begged for our sandwiches.  Echo obligingly threw hers at his head before we could stop her.  Pretending the raven wasn't laughing at us with his beak full,  we loaded up water and bear spray, strapped on the toddler, and headed up the trail.

A half hour into the hike, I knew I had picked the wrong side of the trail to start on.  I knew this for two reasons—first, because my lungs were rioting and setting fires in my chest, and second, because literally everyone we passed told me so.  It’s apparently much easier to start on the Mountain Vista side, where the trail rises gradually up the mountain, and save the rocky Savage River side for the descent.  Oh well.  Too late now.  There was no way I was turning around to try again on the other side.  I’m nothing if not consistently stubborn about my bad decisions.

The Savage Alpine trail averages about 24” wide, which isn’t too bad on flat land.  When you’re zig-zagging up rocks at a 25% grade behind a preschooler, it’s not nearly wide enough.  My body threatened mutiny for the first mile of thigh-burning, gut-churning switchbacks.  I don’t know how your body works, but mine responds to physical exertion with cramps and an urgent need to use the bathroom—which is kind of an issue when you’re halfway up a rocky mountain with no trees and a view for miles.  Luckily, I was the only one suffering.  The children had lied to me about their abilities and were basically mountain goats, Claudia was strapped to her dad’s back, and Rick…well, Rick’s a Dunedain and walking up mountains doesn’t really phase him. 

Somewhere around here I was looking for Dwarvish doors so I could pass under the mountain.  I'd take my chances with the goblins and the Balrog if it meant I didn't have to keep climbing.

After an hour or so, we finally topped the rocks and the trail evened out.  I felt much better.  My body was no longer in open revolt, and I had won the game of chicken with my bowels.  In any case, like anything that sucks and makes you want to want to quit, it was worth every step.  The screaming wind, the sheer size of the valley and the mountains, the cold air…it’s so damned savage and beautiful.  We saw ground squirrels and fields of fireweed full of fat, sleepy bees.  There were blueberries in the lichen.  We totally ate them.  It was a really great hike.

As I had intended, we did turn around about halfway.  The descent was much easier, but my heart was still in my throat the whole time, courtesy of my daredevil spawn.  The girls thought nothing of scrambling over loose boulders with a hundred-foot drop below them.  Ah, to be young again with no concept of how squishable you are.  My ego aside, Echo was the only injury.  She stumbled on a relatively flat part of the trail (thank goodness) and cut her head and her arm on some rocks, but rallied heroically.

This picture is a lying liar-face.  The trail looks flat because my camera stinks, but this is actually a rather steep set of switchbacks.  Leah and Jane are much further down than they look.

Well, what did we learn, boys and girls?  Not much.  I knew I was out of shape before we got in the car, and it was already pretty apparent that I don't always think things through.   At least nobody died and we made it back to the van without incident.  After an early dinner at a food-shed, we headed home with no further excitement except a possible case of toilet bees (see below).  I really want to try the trail again next summer...except this time we'll start at the proper end and finish the whole thing and I won't spend too much time wheezing on the side of a mountain.  I’m even thinking about working out this winter to prepare.  The hike will definitely happen.  We’ll see if the workouts do.

I regret nothing.

Not much is more Alaskan than a rack of moose antlers bolted to the front of a minivan.

Directly after the toilet bees incident.  Supposedly bees flew out of the rest stop pit-toilet while she was sitting down.  I'm pretty sure they were just flies, mostly because the alternative is too horrible to think about.